Our Seas of Fear and Love

by Richard Shain Cohen

  “Tom,” he wrote, “I was just thinking of Embden and the fun we had there. There’s a man who just retired. I’m certain they would take someone like you. But you’re certainly giving up a lot. Yes. I know Brigit liked it here. I think your children will too. Truthfully, there are times I miss Boston, but I love it here. My family thrives where we are” – but not Deirdre he might have added. “It’s funny, we never got together when we lived in Belmont. Are you sure you want to give up the family home? I do know Deirdre and Brigit met in town at least once. Deirdre was pregnant with, I believe it was, our third daughter. Think about it. Our oldest, Melinda is having a party for her sixteenth birthday that has passed already, but her mother wanted to wait ’til spring. Why don’t you all try to come up for that? It’s the 20th of this month. Perhaps you could see the people here. If you want, I’ll tell them you’re interested.”

  Thomas told him he had made up his mind and Brigit agreed, “was very pleased when she heard we might move. She’s also a little sad about giving up the house, if they want me up there. The children are excited. They would be. Robert is now fifteen and Kathryn twelve, a little younger than yours. But you had a head start. Thanks for the address and the phone number. I’ll get in touch right away and let you know what happens. I appreciate it, Greg.”

  Why Thomas would have wanted to move is a question. For some reason he was being naïve about placing Brigit and Gregory so close. However, when he thought more about it, he felt they had lived in Belmont at the same time. She never talked much about them except for the time she met Deirdre in the delicatessen.

  Brigit answered Deirdre about the party, telling her they would attend. Deirdre, when she received the note, was peeved that Gregory invited them without asking her.

  There was another argument, those more and more occurring annoyances that made Deirdre feel she had made a terrible error marrying Greg. Why did she do it? She was going to settle with him once and for all. She called to Melinda. There was no answer. She called Pamela. No answer. She wanted to try out the dress she bought for Melinda as a surprise. “Where the hell are they?”

  Pamela came home without her sister.

  “Where’s Melinda?”

  “She said she was going to a friend’s house.”

  “Why didn’t she tell me? I’ve told both of you I want to know where you are or where you’re going.”

  “Yes, ma,” she answered wearily.

  “You listen to me without the faces and disgust. I’m your mother.”

  Pamela whispered to herself, “Don’t I know it. Doesn’t Melinda know it. You’ll be lucky if she puts on that dress.”

  About this time, Gregory came home. “Those girls. I guess I drove my parents crazy too. I want to talk to you – alone.”

  She took him into his office and closed the door.

  “What the hell is going on? You invited your old girlfriend and her husband to my party, to my daughter’s party? What the fuck are you thinking? You want her back? Shit, I’ll give her back to you. I can do it.” She stopped. What was she saying, what message conveying?

  “I told you I’m sick of hearing you swearing at me. I live here. It’s my house, my children too. I can invite. Besides” and this was the first time Deirdre heard it from him, “Tom will probably be practicing in Portland. I’ve been helping him get a position here.”

  “Here?” She was now furious. “WHY?” For the first time in their marriage she felt insecure, that she had lost her dominance. “F . . .,” she caught herself. “Crap. Go invite all your friends from Boston, the whole fucking staff from the hospital here. I’m trying to have a, well, coming-out party of sorts for our older daughter, and you screw it up.”

  “You shut your mouth, Deirdre.” He began to shake. “I’m not listening to crap like that.” He started toward her, grabbed her arm, staring directly in her eyes, those dark eyes he thought he loved so much, had seduced him with their brightness, depth, intelligence. He wanted to squeeze her arm but resisted. He glared. “You decided on the party. Did you ever think of asking Melinda if she wanted one? Do you have any idea how she feels about it?”

  Deirdre shoved his hand away, backed several feet from him, staring. “I’m doing this for her. She’s my beautiful daughter that I want the world to see,” her voice trembling.

  “You or Melinda, Deirdre?” his voice somewhat quieter but still angry.

  “Damn you. I’m sick of being the evil one here.”

  He stared at her, struck by ‘evil.’ He felt suddenly sad. “You know, Deirdre, you are beginning to tell all of us how to live. You come and go. Do I ever question? You go overseas every so often. I don’t object. But this is it. You have left me feeling like I don’t belong any longer. I have to beg for sex.”

  “Beg?” Again she shouted. “Like hell. I’m supposed to spread my legs any time you want it. Well, we’ve been married some time now, no? Well, there are times. Goddamn it. You’re a doctor. You know there are times a woman doesn’t feel like it. Even you don’t.”

  “I’m not going to beg. I don’t even want to talk about this. But when you back away, and you have, I begin to think there’s a chasm between us, a dangerous one.”

  Melinda returned home in time to stand with Pamela at the door listening to their parents, both horrified. “I’ve heard enough,” Melinda told Pamela. “I’m home for spring vacation and come for this. This terrible party should have been last year, but she had to be away. She’s always away, always doing something. Don’t you ever wonder why she goes away so much?”

  “Sure I do. Well, anyhow, you’ll be in college next year, and I’ll be away at the Bennett School. Neither of us will have to listen.”

  “Pam. Have you noticed some of the art stuff she’s brought home, like the Chinese vase we aren’t supposed to touch, and that little Greek statuette? Even the living room is becoming a museum. It’s a wonder she lets us go in there. And that jewelry. She sure does make money with that foreign joker. And she’s always buying clothes for us, and bought the new car. “

  “Well, sure I’ve noticed. So have my friends. The clothes, with all the comments the kids make, make me feel like a freak.”

  Just then the door opened and Deirdre came rushing out, slapping Melinda.

  “Where have you been?” she loudly demanded. “Who do you think you are just disappearing?”

  Pamela looked in the room at her father, watching him with his head lowered. When he heard Deirdre, he started for them. Pamela kicked Melinda in the heel, letting her know their father was coming and not to argue with their mother. However, Melinda ignored the slight pain of her sister’s warning. “I’m old enough to go see friends. How do you know, anyhow, what I do when I’m away at school? How will you know what Pamela is doing? In fact, do you even care? You’re hardly ever around. You shoved us off to school so we could be proper ladies. Well I’m grown up now, and I’ll do what I want.”

  Without warning, Deirdre slapped her again. Gregory saw and hurried toward them. “Who do you think you are? You’re talking to your mother, young lady,” Deirdre’s yelled. She grabbed her and started to pull her toward the sitting room. “You will never talk to me like that again. And you will never stay away from this house or visit anyone without my knowing where you are. You hear me?” Deirdre, her face red, raised her hand again. She felt a strong hand stop her. “Don’t you ever, EVER hit one of those girls again, NEVER.”

  “And don’t you ever raise your voice at me like that again, Gregory Hurwitz, my great doctor. Why don’t you help me discipline these girls? I send them away to a good school and this is what they learn and come home with. Disobedience.”

  Gregory, startled by the “I”, hesitated, deciding what to answer. “Fine, Deirdre. Maybe we’ll just let her finish the year and keep Pamela home next year. Since you’re the one who sends them, pays for them.”

  By now, Andrea had come into the room. Everyone stopped, looked at her. “What the hell do you want?” Deirdre demanded.
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  Because she had been with the family so long, she didn’t answer, took Melinda and Pamela by the hand and walked out of the room, in effect, daring Deirdre to fire her.

  “I hate her,” Melinda told Andrea, sobbing now, barely able through her tears to see her sister also crying, both trembling, wondering about their home, their mother and father. “I hate her, I tell you.” Andrea stroked her hair, Pamela’s, held them to her. They were her girls too, even if she never had them. Why hadn’t she married that Steve guy she had met in Boston? She just didn’t trust him. Now older, all left to her were these two young girls, growing toward womanhood and its sadnesses and joys. They would be good women coming from a fine home. She stayed with the Hurwitzes because of the doctor, such a fine man with such good manners, always kind and sympathetic. There were no airs about him. But his wife. Everyone knew where she went to school and all the things she did or does. Dr. Hurwitz never said anything about who or what he was. He didn’t have to. He came from a grand family and had done grand things for people. This is why she stayed on. She hugged the children to her. “C’mon, my dearies, it was only an argument. You’ve heard and had them before.”

  “Not like this,” Pamela sobbed. “You didn’t see her slap Melinda. She’ll have a mark on her face.” Pamela looked at her sister’s cheek. “See how red it is, how hard she hit her. She’s not my mother anymore.”

  “Stop that silly talk. She is your mother. You just be who you are and everything’ll be all right.”

  They sat about the kitchen table, the three in tears, then smiling some for the love among them. Melinda laughed. “Andrea, if we were the same color, maybe you could be our mother. Ooo. Excuse me.”

  Andrea laughed. “There you go again.” They had conversations about color and different ethnic peoples. Andrea had taught both of them about slavery, about Abraham Lincoln, about going to Washington and hearing the great Dr. Martin Luther King. Deirdre did not want to give her the time off, but Gregory gave her airfare and hotel expenses and some extra spending money, telling her he wished he could go.

  Listening to Andrea laughing, suddenly Melinda thought of her father. There had been another woman. Why didn’t he marry her? Aunt Mary had mentioned her once, maybe more. They were friends.

  “Pam, do you remember Aunt Mary telling us about that woman, oh, what’s her name – Brigit.”

  “Aw, yes.”

  “Aunt Mary said dad loved her. But she never told us what happened. She lived in Belmont when we did. I wonder what she’s like.”

  “What for? We never met her.”

  “I saw her once, Pam, when we were little. She and mom met in a store. I wonder.”

  “About what?”

  “Just wonder. I think she and dad had something going.”

  “So what?”

  “Nothing.”

  Andrea, knowing who Brigit was and having also met her, smiled. “She’s just some nice lady who has a boy and a girl, a little younger than you two.”

  But the letter Thomas sent to Gregory was unknown to them nor the fact that Thomas had been urged to come to Portland after the interview. A calm came over the kitchen, as the sisters and Andrea stroked one another’s arms with love, unaware they would meet that Brigit.

  ~

  The night of the party, Melinda refused to dress. She took the gown and threw it in a corner. “I won’t go down. They’re all her friends. Everyone has to make an impression.”

  Deirdre knocked, came in. “Why aren’t you dressed?” She looked at the bed, expecting to see it there, then in the corner where it had been thrown.

  “What’s going on? Guests are arriving.”

  Pouting, “Your guests.”

  “Now, dear, let’s not get into an argument. Some of your friends are here too. This is your evening.”

  “Yeah. Thanks, mother.”

  Although the sarcasm annoyed Deirdre who began to get angry, she held back. She picked up the dress, shook it to see if there were wrinkles. She saw some creases in the skirt that annoyed her. “C’mon. We’ll get this ironed out in no time,” which she did without saying anything but the anger visible in her face. “Here you are, sweetie.”

  The sarcasm did not escape Melinda. “O.K., mommy, dear,” she mimicked.

  “You keep quiet and mind your manners. I didn’t have to go through all this for you to be so resentful. You want another mother, another home?”

  “Yes, I DO,” she yelled. Tears came to her eyes. “Why are you so mean sometimes, mother? And the way you treat dad. What did he ever do to you?”

  Trying to withhold her temper, not answering, she said, “Look, this is no time for us to fight. Please just get on the gown. You’ll be beautiful.”

  Crying now, Melinda stepped into the dress, pulled up just above her bosom while Deirdre automatically zipped the back. “Let me see you. Oh, Magnificent. Melinda. Please look at yourself in the long mirror. Isn’t it lovely? The gown comes just to your bare shoulders. See how beautiful you are. Perfect. Everyone will admire you. Oh. Here.” Deirdre gave her a handkerchief. “Dry your eyes. I’ll put a little liner on them, and no one will ever know.” She put her arms about Melinda, pulled her close. “I love you, darling. Don’t ever doubt it.”

  Hesitantly, Melinda answered, “Yes, I know, mother,” but she didn’t believe her words.

  “I’ll go down. You come alone, so all eyes will be on you. O.K.?” Deirdre smiled sweetly. “And, dear. You don’t need to tell dad that we had an argument. All right? Let him enjoy the evening too.”

  “Yes, m’am”

  Deirdre turned to her, her face red, but she fought to control herself, whispering to herself, “I raised a bitch.” She laughed aloud, placed her hand on her mouth. Like her mother.

  Or was it that she left the girls no other choice but to react to her as she did to them and to Gregory? She thought of their births, the discomfort of the pregnancies she endured. But she did give birth to lovely, attractive, and one day, alluring daughters. Yes, she did love them. But how do I measure or weigh my love? By what I’m doing tonight, for one? Be honest Deirdre.

  What her parents did not know was that she had called her closest friend who lived near the private school, asking if she could stay with her for a few days but not to tell her parents why she was there except that her folks were going away for a few days, so she was returning before spring break was over. She pleaded over the phone, “I’m just so mad about this party. My mother wanted it. I didn’t. I don’t want to be here. Do you think you could drive here and your folks will let me stay? And if you think so, promise me you won’t tell any one.”

  “Oh, with that excuse, I think they will. I’ll tell them you just wanted to be with me after the party so we could talk about school, whatever, that you told your parents and they didn’t mind.”

  Deirdre had already gone down to announce the young lady would soon appear. As Melinda walked the stairs, she stared at all the people, smiled at the applause and the greetings, thinking perhaps she could enjoy herself. Most of the time she looked toward her father, watching his pride, aware of the love in his eyes. That was enough for her, helping her to endure her mother’s guests.

  Melinda greeted the people, pleasantly received their compliments, answered when asked her college choices. Meanwhile, Deirdre saw a politician eyeing her and went to him, “She's too young for you, Barry. I'm more your age, no?”

  His face reddened. He forced a smile. “I can’t argue that. How about a jaunt tonight?”

  “Jaunt?” she smiled coyly. “What's in it for me?” her voice soft, seductive. She was now forty-six, had gained some weight about her waist. Her breasts fell some, not as attractive to her as they had been, yet still full enough to excite a man. Her face had no creases though it was somewhat more full, erasing a bit of the angularity that was so much a part of her beauty. Her hands kept their softness with the creams and oils she used; and her fingers could still direct with a subtlety of movement or silken soothingly arou
se emotion or settle imagined or real pains.

  Later she beckoned to Barry when she believed her absence would not be noticed but not before she was certain Gregory wasn’t about. Still she wondered where he was while Melinda stood alone at the door saying goodnight to several of her guests.

  In that interval, Deirdre and Barry left, Deirdre knowing Gregory had to appear and, if necessary, make an excuse for her.

  She would be absent just long enough to satisfy this lascivious politician and get what she wanted, more political help from a conservative who believed about Viet Nam as she did. They both hated the protests. He would get her money in return for a tryst. They walked to his large car, looked quickly about, went to the back seat. He raised her skirts, her slip, grabbed at her panties.

  “Just a minute, Barry. Promise me I get the money.”

  He was impatient, pulling down his pants. “Damn. You’ll get it. Now give me what I want.”

  She laughed. “Give me your handkerchief.” She spread it, and rubbed slowly, gently, harder on the shaft and head until she felt the release into the cloth. “Feel good?” He nodded, yet dissatisfied. “Barry, give me what I want, and then I’ll give you more.”

  “O.K. Promise me.”

  “When you come through,” placing her lips on his. “Look forward to it. I guarantee you’ll be satisfied.”

  When she returned and the guests were gone, she and Gregory could not find Melinda.

  Gregory was frantic, having looked throughout their large home. Deirdre upset, forgot her short sexual rendezvous with Barry, being concerned but angry, thinking of Melinda’s ingratitude.

  “Did you let her go somewhere with one of the boys she knows?” Deirdre demanded. “What are you talking about? I don' t know where she is.” He started to raise his voice. “Don't you shout at me. I'm getting damn sick and tired of your temper.”