There was no way I could go home in my present mood—there wasn’t enough there to clean—so I turned my car east toward my father. Maybe I’d beat my father’s obnoxious doctor. I was definitely in the mood.
There was no traffic this time, although I wouldn’t have minded more time to cool down. As it was, I arrived still hashing over my remarks to Klee and, even more irritating, his to me. The man had a monumental ego if he thought he could act the way he’d acted since the moment I met him and gain my interest. Even if he’d been a perfect gentleman, I wouldn’t have given him a passing glance.
I knew the words were a lie even as I thought them. I would definitely have given him a passing glance. He had the same kind of big rugged frame as Darren, and he’d probably be a really appealing man if he’d keep his mouth shut. I would have given him a glance, but I wouldn’t have acted on it.
The nurse on the front desk was the one with the brogue. I gave her as pleasant a nod as I could manage. “Go on in, Mrs. Graham,” she told me warmly. “Your mother’s already with him in the dayroom. And another gentleman.” The gleam in her eye told me it had to be Darren.
It was, and I had never been so glad to see anyone in my life. I made a huge effort to compose myself before I joined them. My mother sat on the sofa with dad, telling him some story that had him nodding and grinning. Darren was sprawled across from them in an overstuffed chair, laughing at whatever Mother said.
I walked up to the group and sat on the arm of Darren’s chair.
The room was full of visitors. I thought this must be a prime visiting time. Then I remembered what dad’s doctor had said about him getting agitated as the afternoon wore on. The pamphlets I read the night before—once I remembered they were in my purse, explained this frequently happened with AD patients.
Across from us, a woman was talking cheerfully to a man in a wheelchair, who seemed oblivious to both her and her words. Two patients were playing a game of ping pong at the other end of the room, with an attendant keeping score.
Darren patted my hand when I sat down, his attention still on my father. My mother was saying, “Your mom always did rule your pa with an iron hand. I remember the time he snuck a piece of cake from her kitchen right after he’d been diagnosed with diabetes. Remember that?”
My father nodded and grinned wider. “She put a half cup of black pepper in the next one she made and left it right out on the table. I thought he’d choke to death. Never snitched another slice of anything after that.”
“Well, look who’s here, Don,” mom said. “It’s Lou.”
My father looked at me blankly. “Do I know you young lady?”
I could see Mother tense. “Sure you do, Don—“
“Sure you do,” I interrupted, standing and crossing to him. “I’m that young lady that keeps stealing kisses from you.” I leaned down and kissed his cheek. “How are you, dad?”
“I’m fine. Fine.” he said. Then he looked back at Mother. “What about when dad got mad at mom and stayed out all night. Remember that?”
Darren was watching me when I turned back to him, but my father’s not remembering me wasn’t the most immediate thing preying on my mind. I tipped my head toward the door that led out the back. He nodded and stood, saying, “I’m going to grab a breath of air with Lou, Eleanor. You keep Don entertained until we get back.”
Mother looked at me curiously. I was quite sure she saw anger still simmering beneath my surface, but she was generous enough not to mention it. “I’ll do that, Darren. I was just going to ask Don to play a game of cards with me.”
“Poker?” my father asked with childlike happiness as Darren and I made our way out the back door.
The flower beds had been turned recently in preparation for spring. The world here was fragrant with re-awakening soil and fresh pine bark. The sun had warmed the morning until it was bearable, but the air still had that sharp winter feel that bit into the throat. I always thought that’s how pure oxygen should feel as it entered the lungs.
As we moved away from the dayroom, the sounds of chatter faded. A car pulled into the parking lot and a young couple spilled out, two children in tow. Midway across the grounds was a fountain, dry now, and surrounded by benches. We were silent until we reached them and sat down.
“What’s up, Lou?” Darren asked.
“Klee.” I spit the word out like an oath. “He told Sam and Jeff about us.”
“Oh.” Darren ran his hand over his face. “Shit.”
“Exactly. He blurted it out. I was going to tell them, Darren, but I was waiting until the right time. I wasn’t trying to deceive them.”
He took my hands. “I know you weren’t, Lou. Jesus, we just filed on Tuesday. It isn’t as if you let it ride for a month or two.” He folded my hands in my lap and rested one of his big ones across them. “Tell me what happened.”
I related the whole thing to him, omitting only Klee’s final remark, which was way too absurd and embarrassing to repeat. He listened silently, nodding occasionally. Darren was a wonderful listener.
When I finished, he sat rubbing his chin with his free hand. “Why don’t I go over and talk to them? I don’t have anything pressing this morning, and it might be better coming from me.”
I could have thrown myself at his feet. “My knight in shining armor.”
“Hardly,” he said, hanging his head.
That one word carried more bitterness than any man should feel. I reached over and touched his hand. “Hey, we decided there wouldn’t be any of that, didn’t we?”
His head came up and his eyes met mine. “I suppose we did,” he said, one corner of his mouth valiantly trying to tilt upward. “In one of my weak moments, as I recall.”
I grinned at him. “Whatever.” Then, “Are you sure you don’t mind talking to them?”
“Hell, it’s the least I can do, don’t you think?”
I wasn’t going there. Instead, I said, “Greg called me last night.”
Darren’s eyebrows shot up. “And?”
I felt my eyes sting. “He apologized. He was so sweet.”
“If he was half the man I thought he was, he never would have suspected his mother in the first place.”
“He apologized, Darren,” I said, a bit of steel in my voice. “He’s a big enough man to apologize, and that’s good enough for me.”
We sat silent for a few moments, Darren probably thinking I was a pushover where Greg was concerned. He wasn’t far wrong, but I thought he was too hard on his son. It wasn’t a new issue, nor had it ever caused hard feelings between us.
Finally, he blew out a breath. “Let’s go visit with your dad for a while before I have to take off.”
He stood and pulled me to my feet. He slung an arm companionably across my shoulders as we walked back. By the time we reached the dayroom, he had me laughing.
The first face I saw when I entered the room was Jules Proctor’s, scowling as usual, and at me, as usual. He was sitting with a family near the ping pong table, and turned at the sound of the outside door opening. I wondered what I could possibly have done to earn his ire this time.
My mother was ready to leave when we got back inside, telling dad she’d be back that afternoon. I had to wonder how she did it. We spent another hour with my father before Darren left. He shook dad’s hand and winked at me.
“He’s a nice young man,” dad said when he was gone. “Who is he?”
“He’s your son-in-law. Darren.” I reminded him gently, and was suddenly glad he had little idea what was going on around him. He had always thought the world of Darren. Knowing about the divorce would break his heart.
“Nice fellow,” he said. Then he looked around. “Where’s Eleanor?” he asked.
“She’ll be back in a little while.”
His eyes roamed the room restlessly before coming to rest on the large television on the corner. “I have to watch TV now,” he said, getting up and walking away.
I sighed, glad that we’d had a little
time together, even if he hadn’t remembered who I was.
As I walked down the hall leading to the front door, I saw Jules Proctor coming toward me. I intended to breeze by him without a word, but he came to a stop in front of me. Short of knocking him out of my way, which I may well have done an hour before, there was nothing to do but stop.
I looked up into a pair of cold eyes the color of stormy skies. “I didn’t get a chance to meet your boyfriend, Mrs. Graham.”
His tone was friendly enough, amiable, even, but the eyes gave him away. The thoughts that raced through my consciousness in the seconds after he made his remark could have filled a journal. Among them were outrage at the insinuation contained in that “Mrs.” and astonishment that he would accost me in a hallway to voice it. What I was not, was willing to exchange insults with him. I had to hoard what bullets remained in my verbal gun. I was sure I was going to need them later.
I smiled sweetly. “That, doctor, was my husband,” I said over my shoulder as I pushed past him.
“But I—“
I didn’t stay around to hear the rest of what he said. I had much larger fish to fry: two grown children and an almost-ex-husband coming to dinner.
Chapter Ten
I was glad there were no cars in the driveway when I got home. I loved my children, both of them, but I wasn’t looking forward to seeing them tonight.
“Both of them. Together,” I said aloud as I sank into a steaming, fragrant bath an hour later. Greg and Jana. Didn’t that beat all?
They were close when they were young, or as close as siblings of the opposite sex with several years between them could be. Jana moaned about having a little brother tag along behind her and get into her things, but she was protective of him and affectionate in her dealings with him. Then somewhere along the way when I wasn’t paying attention, it changed. Jana turned on Greg. Nothing he did was right. It broke my heart to see the hurt on his face when she rebuffed his every overture. It wasn’t long before he began giving as good as he got, and the war was on.
I had always suspected that the rift was caused by Jana. Greg, a beautiful baby, had only improved with age. His disposition had always been sunny, where Jana tended to brood. He made friends easily and kept them. Jana’s mercurial moods had lost her a number of friends before she accepted that the problem stemmed from her treatment of them. School came easily to Greg, and honors were showered on him regularly. Jana had to study until her eyes were bloodshot to make “B’s.” While Greg had girls calling every evening, Jana could count her high school dates on one hand. It couldn’t have been easy for her to grow up with a younger brother who was not only sharper academically than her but was also better looking and had longer eyelashes.
Darren and I made a point of giving her special attention during the toughest of those years, but she saw right through us. She threw our praise back in our faces. She was a lovely woman now, vibrant and happy with a wonderful husband and two beautiful children, but she was a difficult child.
It amazed me that Greg had turned to Jana when he stormed out the night before. I was glad. Maybe as adults they could find the common ground that eluded them as children. Wouldn’t it be wonderful if one positive thing came out of this divorce mess?
When the water grew too cold to bear, I climbed out of the tub and wrapped up in my favorite robe, an old ratty flannel one of Darren’s. Then I made my way over to my dressing table and Roger’s little bag of miracles. I hadn’t watched closely as he applied my makeup, but I figured if I stayed really light-handed, I wouldn’t make too much of a mess.
I may not be one to stare in a mirror, but I wasn’t quite as oblivious to how I looked as Mother and Darren thought. I had a nice if somewhat compact figure and it cost me a lot of suspended pleasure to keep it that way. I knew I was attractive in a pixie kind of way and could be almost pretty if I made an effort. I quit making the effort a number of years ago for reasons of my own, and I feared it might take a while to get back into the habit.
I opened the zipper bag and spilled the contents onto the dressing table, grateful that the color had receded from my cheeks, but knowing the evening before me would almost certainly bring it back. I bypassed the blush after spreading on a little foundation. A touch of brown shadow on my eyelids and a light cream color under the freshly shaped brows. Mascara. A dab of lipstick. War paint any way you looked at it, and necessary. Dread was too mild a word for how I felt about the evening looming before me, and I didn’t intend to go into it unarmed.
Once satisfied I had done all I could in the face department, I started on the body. I didn’t want to dress up and give the evening undue importance, but neither did I want to face my judges looking like I stopped in the middle of cleaning the garage. I settled on slacks and a cotton blouse. No jewelry. Kids always pick up on jewelry. Except my wedding ring; I still hadn’t been able to bring myself to quit wearing it.
As I was tidying up my dressing table, the phone rang. I have to confess that I hoped for a moment that it was the kids canceling.
“Tonight’s the big pow-wow, huh?” Mother asked.
“Don’t you ever say hello, mom?”
“Hello, mom,” she said, chuckling. “Tonight’s the night?”
I had to smile. “Yes, it is, and I’m not looking forward to it.”
“Don’t be too hard on the kids, Lou. I know they’re going to be insulting and abusive—“
I laughed. “Well, that certainly gives me something to look forward to.”
“You know they will. They’re children and they’re hurting.”
“We’re all hurting. It may be the only thing we still have in common when the dust settles.”
There was silence for a moment. Then she said, “Lou, honey, I wish I could do something.”
“I know, mom. Don’t mind me. I wish it was over. If we can get through the next few months, we can all start to move forward with our lives.”
“That’s not going to happen until the whole truth comes out.”
“Mom—“
“Until then, you and Darren will live in fear.”
“Mom?”
“What, Lou?”
“Goodnight.”
“Call me if you need me. It doesn’t matter what time.”
* * * * *
She was a good mother, really, but like all mothers, me included, she simply had to state the obvious to be certain their offspring grasped it.
Knowing none of us would eat much, I planned a light dinner and changed my mind three times about where we would eat it. The kitchen was friendly, but casual, which might encourage the kids to be more candid than I wanted them to be. The dining room was more formal, the room where the kids always did their homework. We seldom used it for dinner unless we had company. I finally settled on it, hoping the good manners and general decorum we always demanded from the kids when they were allowed in that hallowed room would help contain them. I was determined no one would be allowed to go for anyone else’s jugular until dessert and coffee.
Darren arrived first. He was as nervous as I, although I thought he hid it better. We avoided each other’s eyes as he helped me put the finishing touches on dinner, and we spoke only in monosyllables. That had been natural enough when we were living together, with a grunt or a gesture speaking for us, but now it seemed odd.
Jana and Greg arrived together, although only in the physical sense, as they didn’t look, speak, or acknowledge each other. Apparently their brief moment of camaraderie was at an end. Nor did either of them look directly at Darren or me. I wondered why I had bothered with my appearance. They filed in the front door, prisoners on their way to sentencing. There were no smiles, no hugs or pecks on the cheek. They stopped in the foyer as if unsure where to go.
Darren saved the moment by saying, “Give me your coats, and go set the dining room table.”
Jana looked relieved to have direction. She immediately shrugged out of her coat and gave it to Darren before heading into the kitchen. Greg wa
s slower. He glanced at Darren, and I realized it must be the first time he’d seen him since his return. They stood filling the hallway, so alike in form and feature. My throat burned with love and longing for things to go back to being all right, and pain because they never would.
I turned and went into the living room. That must have broken the spell, because Darren followed me a moment later carrying both coats.
I wiped damp eyes, hoping Roger’s mascara was waterproof. This was a rotten beginning.
Darren tossed the coats across the back on the sofa and crossed to me. “You okay?”
I didn’t trust myself to speak. I nodded.
Darren placed his hands on my shoulders and rested his forehead against mine. “We’ll get through this, hon. I promise you.”
And, as the gods of irony were in full force that night, that’s exactly when the kids walked into the room. Stupidity made us jump apart.
Jana looked confused; Greg jubilant. He walked over and slung an arm across each of our shoulders. “Mission accomplished,” he said. “Table’s set and I’m starved.”
I knew he thought he’d witnessed a reconciliation. I knew it, and I let him believe it because I was too much of a coward to correct his misinterpretation. Craven.
I don’t know what Darren thought. Probably the same as me, or maybe he just wanted a meal without indigestion. Even Jana cheered about halfway through dinner.
Greg carried the conversation, as he often had during his younger years, regaling us with stories about his job and friends and social jaunts down into Mexico. I basked in what I knew might well be the last normal meal I shared with my family. Normal on the surface, at least. There was still an undercurrent of expectation, even dread. Or maybe I was the only one feeling it.
After three helpings of everything, Greg pushed back his chair and rested his hands on his flat, firm stomach. “I’m stuffed,” he said, grinning. “What’s for dessert?”
An Irreconcilable Difference Page 9