Cause and Affection

by Sheryl Wright

  It required another hour to explain what that meant and who and what would be involved. She didn’t mind. Talking to these kids was refreshing and reminded her how much she loved this job. Communicating with people, really getting to express ideas and share insights made this job worth doing. That, and she was damn good at it. Still, educating the kids today was more about keeping her mind on business and away from the emotional roller coaster she had ridden all weekend.

  “It went really well,” Joanne said unnecessarily.

  “What were you expecting, a mutiny?”

  Embarrassed, Joanne sputtered. “You know what I mean.”

  “No Jo, I don’t. And frankly, I’m way too tired to try and figure it out.” Kara watched as Joanne’s look slipped back and forth between contrite and concerned. “No. Don’t go there. Not now.”

  “But you know I’m here if you need to talk?”

  “Jo! Stop already. I don’t want to talk about it, I don’t want to think about it, nothing, nada, got it?”

  She nodded, although it was clear she still had something to say and was having a really hard time reining herself in. Finally, she agreed, asking Kara, “Okay. What’s next?”

  * * *

  Madeleine pulled her Jeep into the driveway and parked beside her dad’s work truck. Her mom, she knew, would have already left for work. She had planned her arrival, driving all night just to be sure she arrived in plenty of time to talk things through with her dad before her mom got home, took charge, and told her what to do. She hated that about her mother. Hated the fact the woman couldn’t and wouldn’t just listen, like some Civil War general who would only allow subordinates a few minutes to deliver their reports before imperiously delivering a solution and the orders to make it so.

  It took a long minute for Madeleine to drag herself out of the driver’s seat. Her father was already standing on the front porch, curiosity on his face, and a coffee mug in his hand. There was no mistaking the Scandinavian heritage in the man. Tall, a good six inches taller than Madeleine, he looked more like a Viking dressed as a workman with his wiry red hair, long limbs and meaty hands. He hoisted his mug in greeting. That was just like him. Good God, the man never changed, and for once she was thankful for that. “Hey, Dad.”

  “Hey, kiddo. Them’s some fancy wheels. Never realized you could make that kind of dough kicking your cancans,” he teased. “At least your grandparents’ll be relieved you didn’t come home drivin’ some fancy Bavarian schatzie wagon.”

  “Like that would ever happen,” she scoffed as she wrapped her arms around his core, giving him a big warm bear hug. “I’m still your all-American girl.”

  “Oh, I do know. Still, ten years is a long time,” he replied with a grin.

  “Too long to go without your coffee, that’s for sure.”

  “Come on,” he said, leading her into the house and back into the kitchen.

  She followed him and as was their custom, kept her peace until he poured the coffee and set their fresh cups on the kitchen table. “Dad, I have to ask…”

  “Whoa, holy hell, kiddo, you haven’t even been in the door thirty seconds. Let’s get caught up first, and yes, you’re more than welcome here. So stop worrying. Yes, your mother can be a pain in the ass, but that’s why we love her. Stop worrying about what your mom thinks. We’re both happy to have you home and for however long that might be. Although I still don’t allow boys in your room. I don’t care how old you are!”

  She laughed at his stern look. “Oh, Dad. Trust me. That’s not going to be an issue.”

  He grinned, watching her carefully, all while drumming his fingers on the table. It was reassuring and irritating at the same time. “Well then. I guess it’s a good thing I got the whole day off. Once we get your things up to your room and settled in, you can come out to the garage and help me with a new project.”

  “Let me guess. If I’m going to drop a bomb you want me to earn my keep first?”

  “That’s harsh but true.”

  “So what’s this big project? More custom cabinets?”

  “Naw. I can’t compete with those big box stores, but I did figure out how to outsmart them. It’s the countertops they can’t move on. See, everyone wants granite these days, but it costs a small fortune. So I’m making fancy custom counters with concrete. The materials are dirt cheap. Literally. And I can make them look as good as granite and for half the price. Pretty cool, don’t-cha think?”

  “Dad, I think it’s very cool; I can’t wait to get to work.”

  * * *

  It was after nine when Kara finally tossed her keys on the foyer table, kicking her boots off and heading for the kitchen. Too tired to cook or even order, she grabbed a beer from the fridge and a bag of chips, neither of which she usually touched. What the hell. She was tired and emotionally exhausted, and they were there. There was always beer in the fridge in case she had guests, but she didn’t usually stock junk food. Looking at the bag, she suspected her mother’s hand. There was no telling what Joanne had said to her, but clearly she’d been out shopping and decided to stock Kara’s kitchen, including today’s edition of chips and dip. Over the last few years, she had become even more of a mothering hen, constantly on the hunt for anything to improve the life of her daughter, her love life that is. How she had changed. While Kara hated her constant interference in her love life, she had to admit her mother was a different woman without her father. She imagined her mom had been a lot like Joanne as a young woman. They even looked the same. Petite, soft, and slightly insecure.

  Heading for the rooftop patio, Kara stopped long enough to toss her socks in the direction of the bedroom before heading outside. The new condo next door blocked her view of the sunset but she could still enjoy the last remnants of twilight. Planting herself in the lounge chair, she twisted the beer cap off and took a sip. She had never been a beer drinker but on a hot day, the only thing better than an ice cold beer might be iced tea, and she had no patience to make it. For the first time in days, she smiled as she scolded herself. Why do I always have to make things harder than they need to be? Like her love of iced tea. She always insisted on brewing her favorite flavor instead of using an instant mix. She preferred her home brew and would do without before accepting whatever was available. Maybe that was her problem, always insisting on the best. Am I a stuck-up brat, or is it knowing exactly what I want that makes the difference?

  “Finally! I see a smile on your face.”

  Kara choked on her beer. She grabbed a nearby folded towel to wipe away the dribble as it spilled down her chin and onto her shirt. “Shit, Mother…you scared the crap out of me!”

  “And it’s so nice to see you too sweetheart. How was your getaway?”

  “Really?” Kara untucked her work shirt and blotted out the last of the spit-up beer. “Why are you here? I should have known when I saw the chips, much less the folded towels.”

  Marsha Wexler, unconcerned by her daughter’s attitude, planted herself in the twin chaise lounge. “I understand you are no longer speaking to your brother.”

  “Mom. Please stay out of it.”

  “I most certainly will not. When my children are in pain, I’m in pain.”

  Kara groaned. All she wanted was just to spend an hour enjoying summer in the city and maybe further come to terms with her single status. Her mother had always been against it, often going as far as calling it unnatural despite being single herself for the last dozen years after divorcing Kara’s father, and describing it as the best thing ever to happen to her. So it was okay for Mom but not for her. That was pretty much how every one of their conversations went. Do as I say, not as I do could be her mother’s personal motto. “Mom, why are you here?”

  “I’m sorry, Kara. But your brother called me, and your sister, and your sister-in-law. Frankly, I’m useless to understand why a splendid roll in the hay has caused so much turmoil.”

  “Roll in the… Mom!”

  “Oh for goodness sakes, Kara. You’re n
ot a teenager anymore. We’re grown women, and we can discuss grown women topics. Can’t we?”

  “Yes, of course, wait, no. Mom!”

  “So, let me see if I have the story straight. You met a girl. You had fun. You were intellectually challenged. And you had earth-shattering sex. And now you’re home, and it’s over and you…” she prompted, much as she would when Kara was a child.

  “It wasn’t exactly like that, Mother.”

  “You do know they meant well?”

  That admission caught her attention. She took in her mother’s auburn waves, so similar to Joanne’s, and the summer blouse, Tilley shorts and bare feet and tanned legs. Her mother had been a striking young woman with a classic patrician beauty. Kara often thought her profile would have marveled any Roman empress. Even today, the woman turned heads wherever she went. And even though she had thickened slightly she still moved with grace and spoke with earnest determination. “So you know?”

  “Know what, dear? That your siblings arranged an introduction to a compatible young woman with whom you might enjoy yourself?”

  “Mom. I don’t think getting me a girl is the same as a formal introduction.” Her reply was harsh and underlined her embarrassment and discomfort.

  “I know what your father said about her. And I know why it hurt—it was disgraceful. But I need you to listen to me, young lady. First, regardless of what your father said, that young woman you were introduced to is a card-carrying member of the second profession. Yes, from all I gathered, that young woman is and always was an entertainment professional. From what I understand she sings and dances, and has even choreographed several shows. She is not now, and from what she told me, has never been a member of the oldest profession. Not that I have a problem with those women who are. Goodness knows, not all women are given the same opportunities as you and your sister.”

  Kara stood suddenly, tossing the unopened bag of chips on a nearby table. She marched a few paces to the patio railing and stopped to turn and look at her mother. Had she heard right? Had her mother spoken with Madeleine? With the night suddenly too dark to make out her features in any detail, she returned to the entry door to flip on the patio lights. “I’m sorry… Did you say you spoke to Madeleine?”

  “Well, of course I did. It’s my responsibility as your mother to be sure the girl you love will make a suitable lifetime companion.”

  Unsure how to explain and overwhelmed by her mother’s ridiculous notion, Kara made her way back to the lounge chair, taking a seat on the edge. “Mom, I appreciate your concern, but it wasn’t like that.”

  “What was it like then? Tell me, dear, because if earth-shattering sex, and an intellectual match with an emotional connection is not love, I don’t know what is. Do you?”

  “I…”

  “That’s what I thought. Now let’s begin with what I do know which, whether you like it or not, is more than you do. First, you need to know your father is an asshole. You know that, I know that, it’s why I left him. So the sooner you stop with the hero worship, the better.”

  “What? I don’t…”

  “Oh please,” her mother groaned.

  Without looking, she knew her mother was rolling her eyes.

  “Listen, kiddo, whether you like it or not, you are your father’s daughter. You are just like him. Well,” she qualified, “excluding the racism, sexism, homophobia, and elitism, you’re just like him.”

  “Jesus, Mom. If I had to be just like him, why didn’t I get the tall part too?” It was a joke. Weak at best.

  Never fazed, always rolling with the punches, her mother said, “So you got my height, or lack thereof. Get over it. Even your brother got ripped off on the tall genes. I can’t wait for the day your father shrivels up into an old man and Douglas can tower over him. I really think it’s all the boy needs to see his father is not a giant but just a man, and not a very good one at that. Douglas told me how your father behaved with Madeleine and what you did. I must say, I have never been prouder of you.”

  “Prouder? Proud that I punched the old man out? You do know he could have pressed charges?”

  “Yes dear,” she said as if confirming the most natural thing. “You’ve always looked up to him. In a way, I worried you wanted to be him, especially when you first came out. Yes, I can feel you rolling your eyes now. I will admit there was a learning curve involved in being a parent to an LGBT person…”

  “Where did you learn that?”

  “What? I’m up on all the PFLAG blogs.”

  “I thought you were busy trying to figure out how to get Samantha pregnant and keep Joanne’s kids in sports.”

  “I’m a mother, I can multitask. And don’t change the subject. I know you must be terribly hurt by your father’s actions.”

  “I wouldn’t call it hurt, Mom. More like one too many disappointments. Between that and this whole thing… It’s almost like he knew what was going on before I did. It’s humiliating. I’m humiliated.”

  “Oh my baby girl,” she offered, setting her wineglass aside and reaching for Kara’s hands. “The only thing that happened with your father is he arrived knowing you were going to win the board vote and his ego was out of control. So, like the bastard he is, he took it out on you. He was trying to hurt you. I know that’s hard to hear but it’s just who he is sometimes. I’m not asking you to forgive him, Kara. I’m asking you to forget it.”

  “Yeah. And what happens when he finds out he was right?”

  “He most certainly was not. Yes, arranging this fantasy date thing was misguided but to be honest, I can understand where Joanne comes up with these crazy ideas, and why Doug is so easily convinced to follow her lead. Frankly, your brother would follow a jackal down the rabbit hole. I swear that boy has no concept of consequence, much less cause and effect. Thank goodness he married well. I know you’re disappointed with Samantha too. We both count on her to keep your brother on the straight and narrow while helping rein in your sister when she gets a little impetuous. Still, she had good reason to follow along with this scheme of Joanne’s and frankly, I think it’s the best thing that could’ve happened to you.”

  “Mom. You’re not listening. If Dad finds out…”

  “Finds out what, sweetheart? That your lady is an actress and not a sales rep? Yes, that would disappoint him. But it’s a type of disappointment you’ve endured, and frankly, I do enjoy seeing your father irritated.”

  Kara blew out a hot breath, trying to get her thoughts in order. “You spoke to her? Madeleine, I mean.”

  “If it’s any consolation, she is just as troubled. More so I think.”

  That made Kara mad. She shook off her mother’s hands, standing and marching away like a petulant child. Reaching the rooftop railing, she was forced to stop and consider her words.

  Before she realized it, her mother was standing beside her and much as she had when she was a child, she clasped Kara’s jaw between perfectly manicured fingers and turned her head so their eyes met. “Of my three children you have been the most resilient, resourceful, and successful, and the biggest pain in my backside. You’ve never taken the easy road. Goodness me, I don’t know how many times I’ve marveled to see you consistently cut a new path instead of following…anyone. Everything had to be your way. I respect that. But it makes life very difficult, not to mention lonely. I don’t want that for you. I know this whole thing may feel…well, I don’t know what you feel. I never have. I can see you’re upset now and I get that. But that girl is upset too.”

  “Yeah right. Upset enough that she’s probably got another, whatever you call it, in her little Venus flytrap.”

  Her mother’s fingers, still firmly clenched around her jaw, forced her head back around to her. “Stop acting like your father! You’re smarter than that. Now listen to me and listen carefully. That young woman is not a prostitute.”

  Kara pried her mother’s fingers from her face, but held onto her hand. “Mom, I’m sure she told you that but—”

  “Do
you think I was born yesterday? The moment your sister confessed to what was going on, I had the agency run a background check. She is an actress, or performer, or whatever you call it these days, singer? Her only foray into personal entertainment was this misguided setup with you. And before you ask, she only took it because she needed the money to leave town and get a fresh start. What woman hasn’t been in that situation?”

  “Me.”

  “Kara Delphine Wexler, you spoiled brat!” She softened and shook her head, pleading gently, “Sweetheart, you have an extraordinary career. One I’m sure you would have accomplished without your opportunities and family connections. But, imagine your sister. Without your father’s indulgence, she would have been lucky to land a job at Tim Horton’s.”

  There were tears in her eyes when Kara hissed out her shame. “Mother, she was paid to have sex with me.”

  “I will have you know the contract and script for this whole thing specifically stated she was not obliged to have sex with you.” When Kara wouldn’t or couldn’t look at her, she wrapped a consoling arm around her daughter. “I never imagined you so delicate. What with all the traffic you’ve had through this place. You do realize I’ve had to replace your bedroom carpet twice since you moved in. And don’t get me started on the rate you wear through linens.”

  Kara shook her head, offering the weakest of smiles. “Mother you redecorated twice. There was no long line of women waiting to grace my bed and wearing out the carpet.”