Second Time Around

by Nancy Moser

  Don’t do it.

  She turned around, looking for the voice. At the edge of the sidewalk a girl argued with her boyfriend. No one was speaking to Vanessa. Yet the voice had seemed real and had been accompanied by the oddest flash.

  She let her own voice sound—and was surprised to find it amazingly strong. “I don’t have to do this.”

  Then, without permission, her legs moved. Walked. Away from the intersection. To stop would be to argue with herself, so she let her feet take her away, let them lead her to a grassy spot under a tree. There they gave out and she sat. If it wouldn’t have caused a scene, she would have tipped onto her side and pulled herself into a fetal curl.

  Fetal. Ha.

  Instead she leaned against the trunk, closed her eyes, and rubbed her abdomen, hoping the confusion would pass with the morning sickness.

  “Oh… my… goodness! Nessa!”

  Vanessa’s eyes shot open. No. It couldn’t be.

  It was.

  Her mother.

  Dorian Pruitt skipped over the grass, her granny dress dancing around her legs. In one final motion, she fell to her knees and scooped Vanessa into a hug. “My dear, dear daughter. I barely recognized you! How are you?”

  She was better when she was free of the embrace. Her mother was the one who was unrecognizable. Vanessa hadn’t seen her for five years, and that mother figure had not been the wild-and-free woman before her. Always a bit different, but never this far-out. “What are you doing here, Mother?”

  Dorian sat on the grass cross-legged, arranging her dress. “I’ve come back to get my master’s. The grade school gives me Tuesday and Thursday mornings off. My teaching assistant takes over.”

  “You’re still teaching?”

  “Of course. I don’t dare let a year of munchkins slip by without the pleasure of my company.”

  “Since when do you need a master’s degree to teach second grade?”

  “Since I want to be the best teacher I can be.” She swatted Vanessa on the knee. “Learning for the joy of learning… you should try it sometime.” She didn’t wait for her daughter to defend herself—not that Vanessa could. She’d never been a good student. “I’ve missed you so much.”

  Vanessa didn’t believe that one. If her mother missed her, wouldn’t she have tried to contact her? Not a card. Not a phone call.

  Her mother plucked a blade of grass and twirled it between her thumb and forefinger. She audibly let out one breath before taking another. “So. Are you happy, Nessa?”

  “Sure.”

  “‘Sure’ is the answer of the uncommitted.”

  You want me to jump up and down? These last five years alone with her father had been busy ones, taking care of him. They’d been okay. Fine.

  Okay and fine. Two more words of the uncommitted?

  A reply was needed. Vanessa drew her knees closer to her chest, a barrier between her heart and this woman. “College is awesome.” It was a huge exaggeration but definitely not an uncommitted word.

  Her mother squinted. “Hmm. What’s wrong?”

  At first, all she could do was stare. She wasn’t used to someone reading her. Vanessa could be crying and her father wouldn’t ask that question. Someone else’s emotions were always an imposition to Daddy, so Vanessa had learned to keep them in check. Yet suddenly, crying was a reality. The tears flowed and she bowed her head into her knees.

  Her mother stroked her hair. “Oh my. Oh dear. I see it was no coincidence I passed this way and found you here.”

  Vanessa looked up. “But it was! I didn’t plan to be here. I was heading—”

  Her mother hooked Vanessa’s hair behind an ear. “Heading where?”

  Vanessa got to her feet. “Nowhere. I need to go home.”

  “Oh no, you don’t.” Dorian pushed herself to standing, her feet getting caught in the long skirt of her dress. “I’m not letting you loose just yet. We’re going to lunch.”

  “I can’t. I don’t have time. And it’s not even eleven.”

  “Oh pooh. You are your father’s daughter. Or you were. But today you’re mine, and my philosophy is to eat when there’s reason to eat, not when it’s scheduled or proper. As far as time?” She linked her arm with Vanessa’s. “This is a time of celebration. I’m getting to spend time with my daughter, and nobody, not even your father, can interfere.”

  What’s that supposed to mean? But how could she object? She had nothing better to do.

  Something to do, but certainly not something better.

  Frankie’s Cafe sat directly across from the arches on the edge of campus, catching students—and their dollars—as soon as they hit Broad Street. Vanessa had been there only once because close proximity was all it had to offer. The floor was sticky, the food greasy, and the tables were stained aqua Formica with chrome legs that wobbled. Once had been more than enough.

  And now, entering the student hangout with her mother dressed like an over-the-hill hippie… Vanessa was proud of the clean lines of her own wide pants and belted tunic, her long, straight hair compared to her mother’s frizz-bomb.

  Yet when they walked in the door, the cashier beamed and raised his hand for a high five. “Dorian, baby. The day isn’t complete without your shining face.”

  Her mother smacked his hand, then interlaced her fingers with his and squeezed. “Flattery will get you anywhere, Frankie.” She yanked Vanessa close, claiming her. “I would like you to meet my daughter, Vanessa.”

  Frankie gave her the once-over. “Well, well. This is her, huh?”

  “In the flesh. Isn’t she lovely?”

  “Almost as lovely as you, babe.” He shook Vanessa’s hand. “I’m glad you finally came to your senses and contacted this fine lady, because she—”

  Mother led her away. “Let’s sit.” Over her shoulder she called out, “Two Frescas, Frankie. Lots of ice.”

  Vanessa detested Fresca but didn’t say anything. She was too busy thinking about Frankie’s comment. Her mother had discussed their relationship—or lack thereof—with this stranger?

  They opened their menus as a waitress who was old enough to be Frankie’s mother brought the drinks. “The lunch special is a cheese frenchee with fries,” she said.

  Mother slipped her menu into the space by the salt and pepper shakers. “Oooh. That’s for me. How about you?”

  Vanessa had no idea what a cheese frenchee was and didn’t care to find out. “Do you have a chef’s salad?”

  The waitress let out a burst of air. “You want rabbit food, go to the Green Earth at Five Points.” Then she pointed to the left-hand side of the menu. “The BLT has a bit of lettuce on it.”

  “Fine. No fries.”

  “Chips?”

  “No chips.”

  The waitress raised an eyebrow and looked at Vanessa’s mother. Dorian laughed and said, “Don’t blame me. You know I’m your best customer. I may like natural threads, but I abhor bean sprouts. I like a little grease with my food.”

  “We’re going to name the new griddle after you.”

  “Much obliged.”

  As soon as the waitress left, Dorian reached across the table and took Vanessa’s hands in hers. “So. Under the tree. The tears. What can I do to help?”

  Vanessa was dumbstruck. For five years Daddy had been stressing that her mother didn’t care about her and wanted nothing to do with her. Yet here, in the span of a few minutes, she’d heard evidence to the contrary.

  She pulled her hands away, setting them safely in her lap. “What did that man mean when he said it was about time I came to my senses and contacted you?”

  “You’ll have to forgive Frankie. He’s as subtle as a whack by a two-by-four. I know you didn’t contact me on purpose today, but I’m thrilled with the contact just the same. I have to admit I�
��ve lived on the edge of endurable having all my letters returned, all my phone calls intercepted.”

  “What are you talking about? What letters? What calls?”

  Her mother’s back found the chair. “I was afraid of this.”

  “You’ve been trying to contact me?”

  The flat of her mother’s hand hit the table, making the ice jiggle. “I knew it! That louse! How dare he keep us apart.” She leaned forward. “For a while, when the letters were returned, I thought you were avoiding me, but then when I drove to Buckhead and stopped by the house and got the runaround… I got the picture. Daddy dear would stop at nothing to keep us apart.”

  “You came to the house?”

  “More than once. But either Yardley answered and said you weren’t home or no one answered.”

  “Daddy always told me never to answer the door when I was home alone unless I was expecting someone.”

  “There you go. Premeditated, calculated ostracism. He certainly thought of everything. It’s bad enough he skewed the facts against me in court, getting them to grant him full custody when he didn’t deserve it any more than—”

  “But you left us, Mother.”

  Her jaw dropped. “Is that what he told you?”

  Suddenly, the thought of eating anything was impossible. “He said you didn’t love us anymore, that you didn’t appreciate any of the wonderful things he worked so hard to provide. He said you wanted to go live like a hippie, in a commune.” She lowered her voice. “Have sex all the time. Free love and all that.”

  Her mother made two fists and shook them over the table. “I could just strangle that man! How dare he lie like that?” Her hands dropped. “Though I should have expected it. I was naive not to expect it, knowing him as I do.”

  This didn’t make sense. Daddy was a good man. Daddy loved Vanessa. He wouldn’t lie—

  She felt her mother’s hand on her arm. “I don’t mean to blow your world apart, honey. Yet, apparently it needs blowing.”

  Vanessa looked at the door. If only she could rewind the last half hour, she’d find herself standing on the corner near the clinic and…

  And what? Would she walk across the street and get the abortion? While she’d been sitting under that tree, hadn’t she felt the slightest bit of relief that she hadn’t done it?

  But now, for her mother to come along and further complicate her life… she didn’t need this. Not now. Not ever.

  Mother was talking and she wasn’t listening. “I’m sorry if this hurts, Nessa. But you don’t want to spend your entire life based on a lie, do you? Depending on a liar? The truth may be painful now, but I guarantee it would hurt a lot more later.”

  Vanessa shoved her glass away, making it spill over the edge. “Why does it ever have to hurt?”

  She recognized the look her mother gave her, and for a moment old memories melded with the present. “Certainly you’re not that naive?”

  Vanessa didn’t want to hear it, though she had heard it from others like Bruce and her friends: “You’ve got to stop letting your father use you. He shouldn’t be calling the shots—you should.”

  It was perfectly natural for Daddy to need her and depend on her. Since the divorce all they had was each other. They were still working things through, but it was getting better. Vanessa was feeling stronger, and every once in a while she actually found herself in control. She liked the feeling.

  Yet you also love being needed. It makes you feel important. Admit it.

  But what about the lies? What about her father keeping her mother away?

  The waitress brought their sandwiches. Mother poured a huge amount of ketchup on her plate and dragged the tip of her fried sandwich through it. Wary of her own choice, Vanessa lifted up the bread to inspect the BLT, yet felt little like eating.

  “I don’t mean to make waves, Nessa. That’s not how I envisioned our first chat, but you’re twenty-one. You’re a big girl. Life is full of hard knocks and hard truths. Your father has been doing a number on you—on both of us—by keeping us apart. And living under such hype doesn’t do anybody any—”

  “I’m pregnant.”

  The cheese frenchee plopped into the lake of ketchup.

  Vanessa scanned the cafe, suddenly afraid everyone had heard her shame, but no one looked her way. “Less than an hour ago, I was heading to the clinic to get an abortion.”

  “But you didn’t.”

  She shook her head. “I ended up under the tree. Then you found me.”

  Her mother laughed. “No-sirreeny. God found you! And then He let us find each other. This is wonderful.”

  Vanessa stared at her, incredulous. “Hardly. It’s a disaster.”

  Her mother lifted a hand. “We’re talking about two different things, honey. Back to your pregnancy…”

  “Don’t say it so loud.”

  She lowered her voice. “Do you love the father?”

  I thought I did. “He doesn’t love me. He’s gone. Out of the picture.”

  “I’m so sorry.”

  That was not what her father had said.

  “Who suggested the abortion?”

  Vanessa rearranged the triangles of her sandwich. “Daddy.”

  “He disgusts me.”

  “It seemed like the right thing to do.”

  “The easy thing. The quick thing. Not right. Not by any means right.”

  “But it’s okay. It’s done all the time now. My friend had one.”

  “Then I pity your friend.”

  “Pity?”

  Her mother took a deep breath along with another bite. “Just because you can doesn’t mean you should. I’m not going to preach at you, Nessa. But I am going to tell you there are other alternatives.”

  “I can’t keep it. I’d make a horrible mother.”

  “Now, now. We’ll work through this thing together. I promise.” Her mother pointed to Vanessa’s sandwich. “But for the moment, eat up.” She raised a hand and called for the waitress. “Agnes? Could you please bring us a large milk over here?” She looked at Vanessa. “You’re eating for two, you know.”

  Two. One more than herself.

  Vanessa drank every drop.

  As soon as Vanessa entered her dorm room, her roommate, Connie, jumped off the bed. “So? Did you do it?”

  It took Vanessa a moment to remember what “it” was. “No.” She sprawled on her stomach, pulling her pillow into her cheek.

  Connie stood over her. “You chickened out?”

  “Not exactly.”

  “You changed your mind?”

  “Not exactly.”

  Connie shoved her over and sat. “Then what happened?”

  “I ran into my mother.”

  “You’re kidding. After all this time?”

  Vanessa told her all about it. Connie moved to her own bed, resting her arms on her knees. “Your dad’s been lying?”

  “It appears so.”

  “Bummer.”

  Vanessa snickered.

  Connie sat erect and aimed an imaginary gun. “Want me to go with you to confront him? I could be your backup. ‘I am woman, hear me roar!’”

  “You’ve been watching too much Starsky and Hutch.”

  “I prefer The Avengers. Sure do miss Emma Peel.” Connie did an Emma-jab with her leg and put the “gun” down. “You gotta know, Vanessa, Yardley Pruitt is not going down easy. He owns you.”

  “Don’t exaggerate.”

  “Who pays for your tuition and dorm room?”

  “A lot of parents pay. Unless a student is smart like you and gets a scholarship.”

  “But I doubt most people have a daddy who gives them fifty bucks a week to blow on clothes and booze.”

  “If he didn’t give me
spending money… I don’t have a job.”

  Connie scooted back and pulled her legs beneath her.

  “Maybe the question is, why not? I work. Bruce works. All our friends work.”

  “Daddy says I need to concentrate on my studies—not that it does much good.”

  “That’s not why he doesn’t want you to have a job. Where do you go every weekend?”

  “You know Daddy lives less than an hour away. It’s not that big a deal one way or the other.”

  “Then don’t go. This weekend, don’t go.”

  It wasn’t that simple. “He needs me. And Saturday he has a dinner party he wants me to help with. He doesn’t have a wife. I have to take her place.”

  Connie raised a hand. “I wouldn’t touch that one…”

  “You have a dirty mind.”

  “Hey, I only go with what you tell me.”

  Vanessa flipped off her shoes. “Daddy says I’m a big help. He says—”

  “Daddy says, Daddy says…” Connie rolled her eyes. “Like I said, he owns you. You are bought and paid for. One slave running to her master.”

  “It’s not like that.”

  “Of course it is. You’ve been selling out for years. Your mom just proved he’s done a number on you. He’s kept the two of you apart. Isn’t it time you called him on it?”

  Vanessa didn’t say anything. The idea was tempting but also scary. She’d never talked back to her father, much less called him a liar. Besides, she needed him right now. She was failing two classes, and she needed him to pull a few strings…

  “You’re afraid he’ll cut you off, aren’t you?”

  Her teeth clicked shut. “He could. He probably would.”

  “Maybe your mother could take over and give you some bread.”

  “She’s a second-grade teacher. She doesn’t have any money.”

  “But maybe this is about something more important than money.” Connie got up to leave. “I have class. Hang in there, Vanessa.”

  She’d give it a shot.

  “Vanessa Rae! Why haven’t you called?”