Fairytales

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Fairytales Page 12

by Cynthia Freeman

“No, Papa, a person has a right to be from the time he’s born … he was born with that inalienable right.”

  Oh, for Christ’s sake, this was really too much for him this morning. “Besides, your mother would never permit it.”

  “I’ve already spoken to her about it.”

  Slowly, Dominic asked, “And what did she say?”

  “She agrees.”

  “She agrees?”

  “Yes.”

  Oh, my God, he had to get out of here before he lost his sanity. “You’re not going and that’s final. When you get older, you can save the world, your mother and yourself.” With that, Dominic got up from the table, his head pounding worse than before and hurried up the stairs. As he went up, he knew he’d discuss this with Catherine, but not this morning … he simply wasn’t up to it.

  There were two doors that slammed almost simultaneously. The front door where a very angry Dominic hurried out and a door to a very hostile Roberto’s. Immediately Catherine jumped out of bed and walked rapidly down the hall. Standing before Roberto’s room she paused before entering. Knocking gently she waited, then entered before asking to be invited in. She was a mother who understood her son and what he was feeling. Roberto was lying on top of the unmade bed staring up at the ceiling. Quietly she sat on the edge and observed the face of her son. So young, so beautiful, so full of longing for a life that belonged to him … one he was fighting so desperately to explore. Taking his hand in hers she asked, “Darlin’, tell mama … what happened?” He bit his lip hard and breathed with contempt, his eyes studying the ceiling.

  Finally he answered with unmistakable bitterness, “What’s to tell?”

  “A whole lot, Roberto … if you have a problem the problem’s easier if it’s shared.”

  “Sure … Sure … that’s a lot of baloney … that’s baloney. I tried that with Papa and you know what he said … you ready for this?”

  “I surely am, darlin’.”

  “Well, dig this … he thinks I’m some kind of a weirdo Commie … would you believe that. From your own father? What the hell kind of understanding is that? You got to think his way or it’s no go.”

  “Listen, Roberto, to your Mama. Now don’t think I’m takin’ sides with Papa, I’m not … but the truth is he really wants the best for you … but it’s difficult for him to understand the needs of people like you … like us, really. When it comes down to it, darlin’, you and I are so much alike … I do believe more alike than all the others, although I love you all the same … but I understand you because we’re both reachin’ out for love and understandin’. And it’s just somethin’ people don’t seem to sense in us. It’s confusin’ … I know in my case I got a lot of love to give but it seems to me there’s no one to receive it all … like livin’ on an island. That’s why I understand your needs … your dreams and, Roberto, you’re gonna have ’em and … maybe I will too.”

  Roberto looked away from the ceiling and into the face of his mother. It was like seeing her for the first time, with tears in her eyes, and for the first time he realized what she was saying … look at me, please look at me…

  At five minutes of twelve, Dominic was seated at a table in the corner waiting for Victoria. This was a rendezvous he did not look forward to. In spite of the hangover he had earlier, he sat drinking a Bloody Mary … the next was a double. When he looked up, Victoria stood before him, smiling breathlessly … exquisite in her navy blue suit and the soft, pink silk blouse beneath it.

  “Darling, I’m so happy you went on without me. I’m sorry I’m late.”

  “You said you might be. It’s alright.”

  The waiter came and Dominic ordered scotch and soda for Victoria, but she said, “I’m going to have the same as you, a Bloody Mary.”

  “Fine, make that two.”

  “How did your day go, darling?” Victoria asked.

  Dominic laughed, putting his hand up to his head. “You wouldn’t believe it, you honestly wouldn’t.”

  “I know, darling … I suppose we’re in the worst profession in the world.”

  Before he could answer, the waiter was back with their drinks and asking if he could take their orders.

  “What will you have, sweetheart?” Dominic asked.

  “The sole amandine.”

  “Make that two.”

  They drank their drinks and spoke about unimportant things, then lunch was served which Victoria ate with relish, but Dominic couldn’t get it down. She stopped eating, “Darling, are you worried about something?”

  “Yes … you could say that.”

  “What is it?”

  “I … I don’t know how to tell you this.”

  “Tell me what?”

  He hesitated. Victoria asked, “Did you rob a bank?”

  “I wish it was as simple as that.”

  “Then where did you bury the body?” She laughed, “Nothing can be that impossible to tell me.”

  “This is.” His words had a very sobering effect… was he breaking off with her, was that possible? No, she mustn’t even think a thing like that.

  “Alright, Dominic, whatever it is, I’ll understand.”

  “I’m afraid you won’t understand this.”

  “Okay, test me.”

  For a moment longer he put it off, then said, “We can’t go on Thursday.”

  “We can’t? … well, I suppose it couldn’t be helped … your plans changed, that’s par for the course.”

  “No, that’s not it at all.”

  “It’s not?…Well, then?”

  “Victoria,” Dominic said very slowly, “my … wife insisted on going.”

  Victoria’s mouth dropped open in stunned disbelief as she sat staring at Dominic … there were no words … simply no words. Trying to hold down the anger, she shook her head and finally asked, “Why now … I simply don’t understand, Dominic, I simply don’t. You’ve told me she never wanted to go with you. Why … just this time?”

  “I know … that’s what I asked myself last night Over and over again.”

  “And?”

  “And I realized the stupid irony of this.”

  “What’s that, tell me.”

  “That she feels since our reconciliation, which is strictly on her part to be sure, she apparently felt it was her duty to go with me. Now, I ask you, is that ridiculous?”

  “That’s putting it mildly. I suppose you had to tell her … ?”

  “Of course, I did, sweetheart … I’ve never gone away, without saying where I was going to be.”

  “I know … I know … that was a stupid question to ask, but I’m so upset, I can’t think rationally.”

  “Oh, darling, don’t you think I know what you’re going through … my God, I seem to always hurt you … and I love you so … I’m really sick about this.”

  But Victoria seemed not to hear the words as she rambled on, “Yes, I can see that, but since I’m not likely to be sainted, I’m going to tell you, I went through all kinds of hell so we could go away. Poor Wilcocks was going to carry the load. I’m just devastated—”

  “Darling, don’t you think I realize how crushing this is for you?”

  “I’m sure you do, but at this point, I don’t know whether to scream or cry. I feel as though I’m living on the edge of a precipice, ready to fall over.”

  Dominic reached for her hand and held it firmly.

  “Tell me, what can I do?”

  She bit her lip to hold back the tears, “I don’t know, Dominic … I really don’t, but at this moment, it seems almost impossible.”

  “Please don’t say that, Victoria … please … if I pressed her too hard, you know what that would mean.”

  “Did you try and talk her out of it?”

  “Of course, but how could I say she can’t go … what else could I do when she insisted?”

  Victoria saw the agony in his eyes and suddenly, she knew how impossible it was for him and she was badgering him, just like his wife. She sighed, “Funny, Dominic,
I really felt, in the beginning, I would be able to cope with anything, but I’m so in love with you and so tied up in knots, I’m not thinking. Of course, you couldn’t help it.”

  “Thank you, darling … God, I’m so damned miserable about this.”

  “I know you are and so am I, but next time, check it out first with your spouse before asking me to make any plans.”

  “You’re right, except I never expected her to go—”

  “I know … I know, dear, and I am sorry we won’t be together.”

  “What will you do?”

  “The same thing you did when you found out about Santa Claus … cry a lot.”

  When Sunday morning finally came, Catherine was only too happy to go home. The past three days had been exactly what Dominic had promised. It had been miserably spent for her. The days of shopping and having lunch by herself had not been too bad, but the nights were dreadful with Dominic not returning until well after midnight, and she had hoped that this could be a second honeymoon … a new start, but nothing happened in spite of the fact she waited up for him in bed all bathed, smelling from the scent of Christmas Night. He fell asleep almost immediately, not from exhaustion, but from weariness. His business was usually concluded about six … seven in the evening, at which time he would go to dinner with his clients until nine, give or take, but after dinner was over he would walk aimlessly around the city, finally coming to rest at some bar, have a few drinks and listen to the piano player while conjuring up thoughts of Victoria to whom he spoke every night. No sooner would he hang up, he had an impulse to call back, just to hear her voice again … just to hear her voice again, although they had said all the sentimental things that lovers say to each other, but she left him with a feeling of complete emptiness. He would have listened to her reading the classified section, if the conversation could have gone on and on. The results of his deliberate neglect of Catherine had exactly the effect he had so carefully planned.

  She had decided that from now on, she would not go on business trips with him again, but sitting on the early morning flight, she said, “Dominic … I think next summer we’re going to Europe.”

  When a man had taken on a mistress, it was better not to start any deliberate confrontations. Guardedly, he said, not wanting to argue with her, “I’m glad you brought that up.”

  “Yes, Dominic, what’s that?”

  “Bobby told me you and he spoke about quitting school … I’m absolutely opposed to that.”

  “Why?”

  “Why? Well, for God’s sake, Catherine, you can’t be serious. A boy, not quite sixteen, with no education, what kind of future could he have?”

  “The thing you have to understand, Dominic, is that Roberto isn’t like the other boys. They all want to go into the law, but Roberto, of all our children, is a dreamer and an artist … an idealist.”

  “Even an idealist has to have an education.”

  “I don’t agree. With all the readin’ he’s done, since I can’t remember, he knows more about things than the other boys … he’s brilliant and I’m gonna see to it that we don’t inhibit his creativity.”

  “Catherine, he’s only sixteen … by the time he’s eighteen, he’ll want to be a surgeon … a tightrope walker … a million things. You can’t take this too seriously.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong. I don’t want to bring up anything unpleasant about the past, but really, Dominic, you haven’t been around long enough to observe the children. Roberto’s a dreamer … so are you … in a different way, of course, but you’ve had your dreams same as him and I’m gonna encourage him.”

  You never encouraged my dream, he couldn’t help thinking.

  “Look, Catherine, I think this is a big mistake.”

  “No, Dominic, I’ve made up my mind. Roberto’s gonna be a great sculptor and I’m gonna do everythin’ in my power to see to it he has his chance. Now, next summer, we’re gonna take him to Florence so he can study with Amileo Segetti … and that’s a promise I made to him.”

  “I’m still against it.”

  “I feel real sorry about that, Dominic, but I’m gonna have to insist.” The subject was over; to Florence they would go … no use trying to move a mountain.

  It was one o’clock Sunday afternoon when the family all settled down to lunch … all were present except Dom who was away at school. Dominic looked around the table at his children. Catherine was right about one thing … he hadn’t really realized how different Bobby was from the others. He always had a remoteness about him that the others didn’t. He even dressed differently, not casually, just sloppy. Why didn’t Catherine do something about that, but his thoughts were interrupted by Tory saying, “Papa, do you think it’s possible for me to make law school in two years instead of three?”

  “You could if you went to summer classes, forgot about girls, weekends and …”

  Angie interrupted, “Not me. When it comes to girls, I’m going to take my good old time.”

  “You can say that again,” his exact replica, Tony, chimed in, laughing, while Bobby grimaced and continued eating.

  “Papa,” Gina Maria said, “I think I’d like to go to Harvard …”

  “No, I’d rather you go to a girl’s college … Wellesley.”

  “But why?”

  “Because it’s traditional.”

  “I think it’s a stupid tradition … see, that’s one example of freedom … in Russia, women are treated equal,” Roberto answered.

  “Well, this isn’t Russia,” Dominic answered a little too quickly, “this is a democracy.”

  “What’s so democratic about a country when a girl can’t go to the school she wants to, or if you’re black or a Jew or—”

  “Listen, Roberto, I’m warning you—”

  “Now, just a minute, Dominic,” Catherine interrupted, remembering New Orleans … the cotillions … the wops … dagos, “Roberto has a right to voice his opinion.”

  “I’m not saying he didn’t, but he’s way off base. His whole total concept is one-sided.”

  “You mean radical… isn’t that what you want to say, Papa?” Roberto said, defending himself.

  “Please don’t tell me what I want to say. I’m reasonably competent at articulating what I mean.”

  “Sure you are, but this is not a court of law.”

  Dominic turned red while the others sat stunned. Catherine said sympathetically, “Roberto, you have a right to your opinions, but darlin’, don’t get so upset.”

  “Of course I’m upset, the courts are so corrupt and Papa’s defending a corrupt society.”

  Tory answered, heatedly, “That’s damned unfair, Bob, and you know it.”

  “Sure … very unfair because you’re a member of the great decadent American society.”

  “Come on, Bob, knock it off,” Angie shouted.

  “Is this the way my sons behave to one another when I’ve taught you love?” Catherine said above the voices.

  But Tony was so angry, he didn’t hear. “Well, let me tell you, Mr. Marx, this decadent society is going to send you to Florence so you can bum around … all expenses paid for.”

  “That’s enough, all of you,” Dominic pounded on the table.

  Roberto got up abruptly, slamming down his napkin, upsetting the wineglass which ran red over the table linen and left, running upstairs with Catherine going after him. Everyone sat in awkward silence. Finally, Gina Maria came to Dominic’s side and put her arms around his shoulders, crying. “Bobby shouldn’t have said those things to you. I’m never going to forgive him, never.”

  He stroked her hair and wiped her tears, “It’s alright cara mia. Roberto will learn. He’s just growing up … as all of you are.”

  Dominic was deeply disturbed. Maybe some of the arguments Catherine had raised through the years had a ring of truth in them. Children needed the strong hand of a father’s guidance. And of course, he couldn’t be in two places at one time and the times he should have been home, he wasn’t, which
left Catherine in complete command. If she had seen this happening, apparently she did not seem to realize how serious the situation with Bobby was. But he wasn’t blaming her; for that matter, never had he. Going to his study, he sat silently, deep in thought. After he was alone for some time, Catherine came in and stood before him, “Dominic, you handled that situation with Roberto in the worst possible way imaginable.”

  “Look, Catherine, I don’t want to talk about this … I’m too upset.”

  “Oh, are you really … well, let me tell you, Roberto is a very, very sensitive boy who has a whole set of ideals you don’t understand.”

  “And what you don’t understand is he’s turning into a radical, a Commie radical.”

  “How dare you say that about your own son?”

  “My God, are you so blind or deaf you didn’t hear or see what happened?”

  “I heard and I saw … and it’s nothin’ but a phase that all children go through. Where’s your understandin’?”

  “I understand that the others aren’t like that. Now, how do you account for that?”

  “It’s because you want to think of them as livin’ in your image, followin’ in your footsteps … that’s why you can’t believe one of your sons could be a free, independent soul.”

  “Oh, for Christ’s sake, Catherine, wake up, that boy’s becoming a nutty radical.”

  “No, he’s not.”

  “Okay, Catherine, if that’s what you want to believe, okay …”

  “Well, I have a deeper perception … a more esthetic value of sensitivity than you do.”

  “Fine … fine, but I’m warning you, if we don’t try and straighten him out, I’m afraid to think of what he’s going to become.”

  “Well, I can tell you what he’s gonna become … an artist of whom I’m gonna be very, very proud.”

  “Then, you don’t think anything’s wrong in his reactions.”

  “No, I don’t.”

  “And you’re not going to try and help straighten him out?”

  “There’s nothin’ to straighten out… he’s an individualist who’s got to have room to breathe and I’m gonna give him that room.”

  Dominic shook his head. “Alright, fine, but I’m going to try to talk some sense into him. At least, I won’t have a guilty conscience.”

 

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