“You mean because of the divorce?”
“Yeah, well…now that dad’s not living here.”
This was turning into an ongoing nightmare. It was as if we were picking up with where we left off the night he walked out with Diane. I remembered Mother’s words about facing facts. “You’re being here isn’t going to alter a thing, Greg. The divorce papers have been filed. It’s done. Your father and I told you—”
“You told me nothing that convinced me you really needed to split up. A little trouble in the rack—”
“Greg—”
He held up his hands. “Hey, I’m not going to pry. If you and dad don’t want to talk about it with me, that am fine, but there’s no way I’m going to let this divorce happen—”
“The divorce is already happening—”
“—when I know damn well it wouldn’t have happened if I’d been here.”
I stared at him open-mouthed. The arrogance of youth always astounds me, but never as completely as now. “Exactly what does that mean?”
He jumped to his feet and began to pace the room. “It means that if I’d been here, I would have seen the signs and headed it off somehow, talked you and dad into getting counseling or whatever. Instead, I was in California. Jesus, when I think of what I let happen—”
“You didn’t let anything happen. It would have happened anyway.”
His pacing didn’t stop. If anything, it increased in speed. “There’s no way I’m going to see my parents get a divorce when it’s clear as anything they’re still crazy about each other. Jana agrees with me. You two still love each other. You always have, mom,” he added, his voice almost pleading.
“That has nothing to do with it. Greg—Greg, sit down.” Then, more calmly, “You’re making me dizzy.”
Greg had always been a pacer. Whenever anything was wrong in his world, he walked it off in measured steps. My words brought back innumerable times that he’d paced off his anger, his frustration. They must have brought them back to him, too, because he gave me a sheepish look and dropped back down on the couch.
“Greg,” I began slowly, having no idea how to get it across to him the reality of the divorce, “please don’t think I’m not touched by your concern, because I am. I know what a sacrifice it was for you to drop everything and drive across the country like you did, but it won’t make any difference, honey. Your father and I have filed for divorce, and in twenty-one days, it will be final. There is nothing you can do to change that.”
His jaw set. “I don’t believe that.”
“Well, it’s true. We’ve made our decision. Nothing you do is going to change it.”
“I don’t care,” he said stubbornly, not meeting my eyes. “Anyway, I’m here now, and I’m staying.”
I felt frustration bubble up in my stomach. “Listen to me, Greg, you’re wasting your time and throwing away your future for nothing. You have to go back to California—”
“You’re tossing me out?” He was back to belligerent now. “Because it won’t work, you know. You can throw me out of this house, but I can stay at Jana’s or grandma’s. Or dad’s, wherever the hell that is now. Or Diane’s, if none of you want me around. But I’m going to be around. You can’t run me out of town.”
He made it sound like a Grade B western. “I’m not trying to run you out of town,” I said, exasperated.
Or was I? I did not at all like the idea of Greg being here or at my mother’s or Jana’s or Darren’s or Diane’s where he could watch my every move. Not that my moves were particularly suspect, but the thought unsettled me. I was astounded at his outrageous assertion that he could have prevented the divorce and could still prevent it. Had he always been so egotistical? I’d never seen any sign of it before.
I was at a complete loss. Of all the scenarios that had played through my mind when I mentally rehearsed telling the kids about the divorce, this one never occurred to me. I expected Greg to get angry, then be really sad, and then get over it. What other choice did he have?
Now I knew. I also knew I needed to call Darren and warn him as soon as possible. I didn’t relish the prospect. He would be upset—he was so proud of Greg and the future he had before him—and his disappointment would come out as anger. Part of that anger would be based on fear. I know mine was. My mother had to be told, too.
Greg was watching me. I had no idea where to go from here. In that moment, I decided I would do that. Go. Somewhere. Anywhere. Run. Hide. I was too weary to fight.
“I’m not throwing you out, Greg,” I said, a good measure of that weariness creeping into my voice. “This is your home. I’m only sorry you’re here because of the reason you’re here. I think you’re making a huge mistake, and I know you’re wasting your time, but I guess you’ll have to realize that for yourself. I only hope you don’t jeopardize your career in the process.”
He looked at me, hope beginning to bloom once again on his face.
I stood. “I’m going over to your grandmother’s.”
I could see the relief written on his face; his eyes lit up. It reminded me of when, as a small boy, he would charm me out of being mad at him. Now all it did was make me sad.
“Hey. Great. Can I come with you?”
I almost said yes out of habit, but I wanted to talk to my mother without my misguided son around. “No. I want some time with her. You can go see her another time. I don’t know when I’ll be back. If you get hungry, fix yourself something to eat.”
He tried to hide his disappointment. “Sure. Okay. Tell grandma I said hi.”
I nodded. I would tell her a hell of a lot more than that.
* * * * *
Mother’s car wasn’t in front of her condo, so I took a chance and headed over to Bradford Manor. The day hadn’t warmed much, maybe up to forty degrees, and the sky was overcast. It wasn’t dark and wouldn’t be for hours yet, but the clouds created an artificial twilight that only deepened the gloom surrounding me.
Traffic crawled. Rush hour begins early in Atlanta—at three-thirty or so—and lasts until ten or eleven at night. It didn’t help that I was heading away from town. So were a million or so other drivers.
Once I got off the Stone Mountain Freeway, traffic lightened some. I saw Mother’s car when I pulled into the lot, and wondered how many hours she was spending here each day.
After the icy air outside, the heat in the Manor was stifling. I tugged off my coat and scarf the instant I was inside the door.
My father was still staying full-time in his room, which was beginning to seem more like a hospital room than the bedroom I had thought it before. There was no obvious hospital equipment in it. It didn’t have the antiseptic smell of a regular hospital room or, thank heavens, the medicinal, half-washed smell I had always associated with long-term illness. It was immaculate, well-ordered, and cheerfully furnished. Nothing had changed except my perception of it.
Mother was sitting in the chair next to my father’s bed. His face was turned to the television screen, but I got the impression he wasn’t seeing it.
Mother looked up as I walked in. Maybe it was the light in the room, but her face looked strained and tense. She was too substantial and vibrant a woman to ever appear frail, but right now she was closer to it than I’d ever seen her.
“Hi,” she said, holding out a hand to me.
I walked over and took her hand, giving it a squeeze. I half expected my father to “shhhh’” us, but he seemed oblivious to us both. “How is he?”
“Not very good,” she said, her eyes returning to his impassive face. “He’s not eating much, and he’s not talking at all.”
“What does the doctor say?”
“Very little,” she answered listlessly. “Only that it’s a normal withdrawal.”
The fact that she was saying all this within his hearing told me more than I wanted to know. “Oh, mom.” I leaned down and hugged her shoulders.
I pulled up another chair and sat beside her. I almost didn’t tell her about Gre
g’s arrival. She seemed to have enough on her plate for the moment. Then I decided it might serve to distract her from her gloomy vigil.
“Greg’s back. He took a leave of absence and raced back here to stop Darren and me from getting a divorce.”
She tore her eyes away from my father’s face and looked at me. I couldn’t read her thoughts, but I half expected her to say, “I told you so.”
She didn’t of course. She shook her head. “I’m afraid I’m not surprised. The boy’s never been one to accept fate lying down. It’s part of what made him so successful in school.”
That surprised me. I hadn’t looked at it that way.
“What are you going to do?”
I bit my lip. “What can I do? I told him he’s wasting his time, but he insists on staying.”
“With you?”
I nodded.
“He’s going to make your life miserable until you tell him the truth, Lou.”
“You think he’s not going to make it miserable after he’s told?” I had lived the nightmare of that day more than once in my mind.
“No, I think he’ll go on making it miserable for some time. Darren’s, too, but then he’ll have to accept the inevitability of the divorce.”
Oh, God, but at what price? I didn’t ask the question aloud. I didn’t want to know the answer.
“Lou?”
I reached over and took her hand, tucking it under my arm. “You’re right, mom. It’s something I have to think about. I’m going over to see Darren when I leave here. I’ll talk to him about it.”
We both froze at a sound from my father’s bed, a kind of cough or choking sound. Mother was on her feet in an instant. She held a glass of water with a straw to his lips. Without acknowledging her, he took a few sips, then pushed the straw back out from between his lips. She waited to see if he would change his mind. When he didn’t, she put the glass back down on the nightstand and resumed her seat.
I couldn’t begin to imagine what a strain it must be on her to sit at this bedside watching the man she loved slip away from her in tiny increments. When I tried to put myself in her place, the only scenario I could come up with was me hovering over my soon-to-be-ex-husband, but I had never seen Darren sick other than with a sniffle or seen him physically weakened to the point of incapacitation. It was unfathomable. It was taking its toll on her, though. I could see tiny lines of strain around her mouth, and her back seemed almost rounded under the weight of all of it.
“Does Darren know Greg is back?”
“Not unless Jana told him.”
Mother looked at me in surprise. “She knows?”
“She knew before I did.”
“Are they talking these days?”
“Apparently. Greg must have called to tell her his plans. She called me at work and tried to warn me, but Klee was in my office and I forgot to call her back. I didn’t know Greg was home until I drove up in the driveway. I don’t think Jana told Darren. I would have heard the explosion clear across town.”
She nodded absently, her eyes back on my father’s pale face. I realized suddenly that rather than distracting her from her worries, I had inadvertently added to them. “Want to go get some dinner?”
Her eyes swiveled back to me. “Oh, I can’t, sweetie. I have plans.”
“You can’t stay here all night,” I said, afraid her plans were exactly that.
She smiled then, and I realized it was the first smile I’d seen since I walked into the room. “No. I won’t. I’m having dinner later with some friends. I’m staying with your father until Eugene gets back from his dinner.”
“Eugene?”
“One of the attendants. He’s keeping an eye on Don right now.” She seemed to mentally shake herself. I could see her posture straighten. “Why don’t you go on and tell Darren. You may as well get it over with.”
She was right, but it didn’t make it any easier to get up and leave her there.
She must have sensed my uncertainty. She stood and wrapped her arms around me. Even somewhat shrunken by age, she was still a good three inches taller than me. It always served to remind me that she was the mother and I, the child. Her arms felt strong and safe. I didn’t want to leave them. Ever.
“Go on now,” she said, accurately reading my thoughts. “I’ll be leaving in a few minutes myself. I want to see if I can get some more liquid down your father before I do.”
I walked over and kissed my father’s cheek. He reacted not at all. I remembered the day not too long ago when that same kiss had brought a grin to his face. I had been saddened that he didn’t recognize me. Now I wished I could have even that.
I grabbed my coat and scarf and, giving Mother one last hug, left the room.
As I started down the hallway, Jules Proctor stepped out of his office. His face broke into a smile when he saw me, and I was astounded again at how his smile transformed his face from almost homely to handsome. In the next instant, I wondered why men were suddenly looking handsome to me again.
The thought made me smile. I stopped when I reached him. “How are you, doctor?”
“I’m great. Did you just get here?”
“No, I was leaving.”
He frowned, and I misinterpreted his look.
“I’ve been here a while. I spent some time with Mom and Dad,” I finished, almost defensively.
He looked confused. Then his face cleared. “Oh. No. It wasn’t—I was hoping to have a chance to talk with you.”
We looked at each other, both a bit embarrassed. “Oh.” Brilliant conversation.
He gestured toward the door. “Do you have a minute to walk? It’s stuffy in here, and I don’t get outside much. Unless it’s too cold for you.”
“No, not too cold,” I said, shrugging into my coat.
He gestured toward the door. He was wearing a lab coat over what looked like a short sleeved shirt. “Don’t you need a coat?”
He shook his head. “I still have my New York blood. It’s the summer heat that gets to me.”
He held the door. Once outside, he led the way around the building to the back grounds along a path I’d never noticed before. Even in February, there was enough green to make the grounds look alive and well-tended. Fescue grass seldom turns the ugly yellow-brown hue that Bermuda takes on in the winter. At least, not in the south. Holly bushes sheltered against the building, their glossy green leaves leaden with red berries. Nandina caught the fire of the morning sun in their foliage.
We walked along for several minutes. I had thought he wanted to talk to me about my father’s condition, but when he said nothing, I began to wonder. “How long have you been in Georgia?” I asked to break the silence.
“Quite a few years.” He looked over at me. “Long enough for the blood to thin, but it doesn’t seem to be happening. Maybe it’s my Scottish heritage. Even though I’ve spent most of my life in the States, it might be bred into the genes. It’s usually cold and rainy there.”
I remembered what he’d told me about having been brought over to New York by his father when his parents divorced. He seemed so American, I had forgotten he was a Scott. Unlike his sister, the nurse, whose accent was unmistakable, his was no more than a gentle burr of some words, undetectable unless you knew it was there. It only served to soften his vowels and to give a lilt to his sentences. I found it very easy on the ear.
“And in the U.S.?”
“A lot longer,” he said, looking down at me. “Twenty years now. It seems like I’ve always been here.”
“Do you miss Scotland?”
“Not a bit. I’ve no desire to return.”
“Isn’t you mother still there?”
He shook his head. “Mother died a couple of years ago. She had moved to New York by then—to devil my father, I believe,” he said with a grin at me. “I think it was what made her life worthwhile. Oh, don’t get me wrong,” he added quickly. “It was a two way street. If she hadn’t come to New York, my father would have found a reason to go back to
Edinburgh to make her life miserable. I’ve never seen two such unsuited people, but they never could seem to let go of each other.”
“That’s sad.”
“Well, it’s over now. They’re both gone and probably lobbing insults at each other in the hereafter. Not all marriages are made in heaven.”
He breathed in deeply. His arm brushed mind as we walked. I felt his eyes on me.
We had half-circled the grounds by then and were on the walkway that led to the fountain. I gestured at the tulips that were drooping on the ground, burned by the hard freeze the night before. “It looks like some of them won’t make it.”
“Most of them will probably pull through, but a few might not. Everything has to die eventually.”
I looked up at him, and the compassion in his eyes almost undid me. After a moment, I asked, “How is my father?”
“Not good.”
We had reached the fountain by then. He gestured at the bench. “Want to sit?”
When we were both seated, he turned toward me. “He’s in a decline right now,” he said, his voice level and calm. “How far and how fast is anyone’s guess at this point. I’m not optimistic that he’ll regain the level where he was before.”
It was no more or less than I’d expected, but it was immeasurably depressing. “Does my mother know?”
“I’ve spoken to her about it. She’s a realist. We’ve talked about her visits and yours, too. They’re more important now than ever.”
“Why now? Not that I won’t be here,” I added hastily. “I’d be here for Mother anyway, but how can they help him if he doesn’t even know someone’s in the room?”
“It’s not him I’m thinking about.” He leaned forward and rested his hands on his knees. “You’re facing a tough situation with your father’s illness. For the rest of your life, you’re going to remember how you dealt with it. Once he’s gone, you won’t dwell on his illness. You’ll remember all the good times you had when you were growing up, all those times when he was the sharp-witted and sharp-tongued man your mother told me about. The only thing that will stick with you about his final years will be how you faced them.”
As soon as the words were out of his mouth, I knew they were true. It brought back to a time when Jana was fifteen. She had developed a huge crush on the high school’s star full-back. He took her to one dance, and then acted as if she weren’t alive for the rest of the school year. She must have confided her feelings to her grandmother, because I overheard her counseling Jana that she needed to come out of it with her pride intact. “If you make a fool of yourself over the boy,” I heard her say, “you’ll remember that long after you’ve forgotten what you saw in him in the first place.”
An Irreconcilable Difference Page 14