No One But You

by Catherine Maiorisis

  “I gather you didn’t want to tell Jess about staying and moving into my casita?”

  “I realized she’d drive us crazy if she knew ahead of time. We’ll tell her the day of.”

  They walked back in silence. Lily thought about her therapy session. Hillary had encouraged Lily to express her anger and talk to Robin about it and her hurt. Hillary had asked, “Do you love Robin, does she love you, do you want to be with her?” The answer to all three was an unequivocal yes.

  Then Hillary had asked, “Do you trust that she won’t leave again?” And she couldn’t answer. She knew she wanted Robin back, but she wanted to be less angry and she wanted to be sure she could trust her to stay. She took Robin’s hand and they smiled at each other.

  Chapter Fifty-Two

  Shared Casita

  Lily woke to a loud oomph followed by a growl, “Christ, Jess,” followed by “You said a bad word, Dad,” followed by giggles and screams. It was their first morning in the casita and Jess had pounced on her dad instead of her. She examined her feelings for traces of jealousy, but it was happiness she felt. Jess was theirs, after all, and even if it was a long time in coming she liked sharing her with Robin. Jess had been flying high last night when they’d told her the three of them would be sharing the same house. And Robin hadn’t been much better. She had been the calm one, but she felt it too, the joy of being a family.

  Robin was crying “Uncle” over and over and Jess was paying no attention to her surrender, so Lily went to save her. Robin spotted her in the doorway. “Help me, please save me from the tickle monster.” Lily moved to the bed intending to pull Jess off Robin, but Robin dragged her down and the two of them attacked her.

  “We tricked her, Dad. Kiss her. We do tickles and kisses.”

  Their eyes met, and Robin’s lips moved toward Lily’s lips, but at the last second she followed Jess’s lead and planted quick kisses on her face. Then she turned on Jess and she and Lily tickled and kissed her until she cried uncle. The three of them lay there for a second, then Jess rolled over and straddled the two of them. She grinned. “I like this, Mommy and Daddy.”

  Lily rolled over, taking Jess with her, and stood. “Time for breakfast. Who do you want to wash and dress you?” As if she didn’t already know the answer.

  “Dad, Dad, Dad.”

  She handed Jess to Robin. “I’ll get breakfast.”

  Jess wanted to stay home with them, but Robin put her foot down. “You have to go to camp while Mommy and I work. No if, ands or buts, sweet cheeks, so get your cute butt in gear.”

  “Uh, oh, Mommy, Dad said another bad word.” She reached for Robin’s hand. “Can you carry me, Dad?”

  Robin swung her up and onto her shoulders, and they jogged down the beach with Jess whooping and laughing. Lily shook her head. They were adorable together. When they were out of sight, she turned to her computer and her love story. Several hours later, Robin’s voice penetrated her concentration, and she looked up, surprised to see her and Jess facing each other and having what looked like a serious conversation. Lunchtime already? She stretched and went out to see if there was a problem.

  “Tell me again what Amelia said.” Robin’s voice was gentle.

  They both looked up when she came onto the patio. Jess was crying and her thumb was in her mouth.

  “Girls can’t be dads, so you’re not my dad.”

  Robin focused on Jess. “I’m sure Amelia is nice, Jess, but she’s just a little girl and she doesn’t know or understand everything.” She took a deep breath. “Being a dad is a job, like being a teacher or being a doctor or being a mom.” She gently dried Jess’s dripping nose. “Do you understand?”

  “Think so,” Jess mumbled around her thumb.

  “Mommy and I and all the mothers here are lesbians, which means we’re all girls and while some of the children here have only one mommy, you and most of the other children have two mommies. So I’m your mommy just like Mommy Lily. You know that, right?”

  Jess nodded.

  “Dad is just a nickname. Do you know what a nickname is?”

  “Yes.”

  “I think it’s fun for you to call me Dad, but you can call me Mom, Mommy, Mama or even Robin as long as you’re happy when you see me coming. Do you understand?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’ll take care of you like Mommy Lily but there are other things I think a Dad should do, that I wish my dad had done for me when I was your age. For example, I like to carry you on my shoulders and twirl you around and throw you in the air and do other things not all mommies do.”

  Jess bounced up and down. “And wrestle in the sand with me and splash water at me and have races and make funny faces.”

  “That’s exactly the kind of thing.”

  Robin crossed her eyes and stuck out her tongue. “Lunch is here.”

  Jess giggled. “You’re silly, Dad.”

  They were quiet watching the waitress move their lunch from the cart to the table. As the waitress walked away, Robin kissed Jess on the nose. “If you’re still confused, sweet cheeks, your mommy might be able to make it clearer.”

  Lily shook her head. “Take some time to think about it, baby. Wash up for lunch now and we can talk about it after your nap if you want.”

  “Okay, Mommy.” Jess slid off the chair. “Will you help me, Dad?”

  Robin smiled at Lily and swept Jess up in her arms. “You bet.”

  Later that night, after Jess was in bed, they were sitting on the patio enjoying the evening. “Jess hasn’t mentioned the dad thing again. Do you think she got it?”

  Lily laughed. “Well, darlin’, I do think she understands the basic idea, but you can be sure she’s mulling it over in that busy little mind of hers, and it will pop up again when you least expect it. You might give some thought to round two.”

  “She really is exceptionally bright, isn’t she?”

  “She tests off the charts. Her vocabulary, her comprehension and her ability to grasp concepts are well beyond her actual age. She was just over five months when she started talking and not long after she was speaking in sentences and counting and writing. And one day I put her in front of my computer and I realized she wasn’t just randomly pressing things, she was reading the options and making selections. She reads everything, not just children’s books. And she keeps a journal. It’s the red notebook by her bed. Open it and take a look sometime. She has a million questions, about everything. She’s so like you, it’s uncanny. It’s wonderful and challenging at the same time. We’ll need to fight like hell to make sure she has a normal childhood.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Look at camp. Intellectually she’s way beyond her age group so they put her with the five-to eight-year-olds, but socially she’s much younger. Her nursery school thinks she should be in regular school already.”

  “There must be special schools in New York City where she could be with other children like her. Do you want me to look into it?”

  “Does that mean you’re willing to do more than have fun, Dad?” She put her hand up. “Joking. It would be great if you’d take that on.”

  “I’ll put together a list, then we can discuss the most promising and check them out when we get back.”

  “Sounds good. She must get this from you, Robin. I know you have no memory of your childhood, but I’ll bet you were just like her as a child.”

  Robin hesitated, not sure she wanted to get into this now, but she realized she didn’t have to go into the whole story now. “Actually, I went to Florida a few months ago to see my brothers. According to Ted, the older one, that’s exactly how I was, but my parents didn’t notice.”

  “How could they not notice?”

  “Well, my father was and still is an alcoholic, and my mother was…I don’t know what. An alcoholic, a pill addict and somewhat crazy, according to Ted. She apparently focused all her rage and hatred and craziness on me. And talk about being over your head socially, my whole world before I went t
o school was my two brothers and my mom or an alcoholic minder. I’d never had a friend.”

  Lily slid her chair closer and reached for Robin’s hand but caught herself, and pulled back. “How terrible for you. What made you decide to find your family?”

  Robin searched those warm gold-brown eyes and knew it was all right to talk about it. “Some issues came up in my therapy, and Olivia, my therapist, suggested I talk to my dad and brothers.”

  “That must have been hard.”

  “It was and it wasn’t. I didn’t see my dad, but Ted and Paul were both very welcoming and willing to talk about what I was like as a child. I learned some things that I’d repressed.” She cleared her throat. She hadn’t planned to do this now but carpe diem—“seize the day” as they say. “Something happened to me as a child that triggered my leaving you and Jess.” She tried to sound casual, but her stomach clenched and her shoulders tensed, and she knew Lily would see and hear her distress.

  Lily looked concerned. “You don’t need to talk about this if you’re not ready.”

  Was she ready? Would she ever be ready? Probably not. “Not talking is part of why I had to leave you. If I’d been smarter or braver or more trusting of the people who loved me,” her voice broke, “and not so sure you all would abandon me in disgust, I would have talked about what was going on and spared us all, especially you and Jess, a lot of pain. What I’m going to tell you isn’t an excuse, but it might help you understand…me. And why I did what I did. It’s hanging over me so if you’re willing to listen, I’d like to tell you now.”

  Lily put a little distance between them. “Tell me.”

  “I looked like her, green eyes, black hair, olive skin, but I was tall like my father. Like Jess. And I wasn’t at all feminine. In fact, many people thought I was a boy. According to Ted, she never accepted me as her child and we fought constantly. Even before I was a year old, I refused to wear dresses and insisted on short hair. She ridiculed me and told me I was ugly and stupid, that I was a freak, that I wasn’t a girl or a boy. Some time between the age of one and two, she stopped taking me out with her, left me home alone.”

  Lily was aghast. “Where was your dad?”

  “As I said, he’s an alcoholic. And he worshipped her. He refused to see anything she did in a negative light. Ted says he told him how she treated me during the day, but he ignored it. He hasn’t changed, Ted says. Despite everything, he still refuses to believe she was crazy.” She could hear the bitterness in her voice.

  “I was six years old when my sister was born.” She put a hand up to stop the question that was sure to follow the frown on Lily’s face. “I know. I never mentioned a sister. But I didn’t remember her. The baby, Rosaria, was three months premature.”

  Lily gasped. “Oh, God. The name intended for you? Do you need water or tea?”

  “No, thanks.” Robin rubbed her neck. “Ted remembers Mom pacing around the house muttering about the doctors keeping her from holding her little girl. He believes she took the baby home too soon, against doctor’s orders, and he remembers the baby being horrible looking, skeletal, with veins showing and yellowish skin. I guess she was jaundiced. And she cried all the time, not a real cry, but like Jess sounded in the beginning.” She grabbed a tissue and dried the sweat on her forehead.

  “Mariana, my mother, acted as if nothing was wrong. She carried her on a pillow—never put her down, talked and sang to her constantly. She stopped even pretending to care about the rest of us, wouldn’t leave the house to shop, or even if food was in the house, put the baby down to cook. Ted took care of Paul and me. With money our father gave him, Ted fed the three of us what twelve-year-old boys eat, peanut butter and jelly, American cheese, bologna, pizza and McDonald’s burgers and fries. We ate upstairs in his bedroom because it was so scary being around her.”

  Robin’s mouth felt as if she’d swallowed a tablespoon of sand, and she was finding it difficult to talk. “I do need water.” She went to the cooler, handed a bottle to Lily, then drank half her bottle without stopping. She paced. “Ted says I was independent from a very young age, washing and dressing myself as best I could. I was talking by the time I was six months old and taught myself to read soon after. I devoured any book I got my hands on, including his and Paul’s schoolbooks, which, it seems,” she smiled, “I was always stealing. The boys got me library books about subjects that interested me, which was just about anything, and I read everything in my parents’ library. My dad was the chair of the Physics Department at Miami U and my mom was the brilliant young student that he got pregnant, so they had lots of fiction, science, math, history philosophy books, and the Encyclopedia Britannica.” She smiled at Lily. “So yes, I was a lot like Jess, but thankfully she’s had you—”

  “Don’t.” Lily jumped to her feet and embraced Robin. “Don’t go there, Robin, please.”

  She leaned into Lily, feeling a gush of love. Inhaling her scent calmed her. Then Lily seemed to realize what she had done and disengaged. Robin took a swig of water.

  “I don’t know when my dad became a full-out alcoholic but according to Ted, his drinking got worse after I was born and he was almost always drunk. He must have sobered up to teach or maybe it was tenure, but he taught at Miami until he retired a couple of years ago. I don’t know why Ted and Paul don’t hate me since my birth seemed to trigger both of our parents disappearing.” She stared into the distance, took another swig and thought for a minute before continuing.

  “This next part came back to me in therapy. I thought I’d made it up until I talked to Ted and Paul. She never registered me for school and I didn’t go out, so I was home all the time. At first, it was just me and my mother, but after Rosaria was born, it was the three of us. I was afraid of the baby, scared she’d jump up and attack me like on TV, but I was also fascinated. Ted told me I asked him why my mother loved her and not me who was big and strong.”

  Robin stopped to rub her temples but realized she needed the space and the comfort of pacing while she got this last part out. “I had fantasies of throwing Rosaria away or pulling her head off the way I’d broken every doll I’d been given or putting her in the oven as my mother often threatened to do to me.” She cleared her throat.

  “Mariana sometimes chased me with a knife or a wooden spoon or whatever was nearby when she deigned to acknowledge me, so I’d learned to keep my distance. Ted said I was always near but just out of reach, watching. Then one day, I was in the kitchen watching her try to feed the baby, who had been crying constantly and wouldn’t take the breast or a bottle. She went from pacing and muttering to screaming and ranting. I was ready to run, but instead she grabbed the baby by her feet, swung her in the air and slammed her head on the table.

  “Oh my God, Robin.”

  Hearing the shock in Lily’s voice Robin drew back from the horror of the memory and focused on her, surprised to see tears streaming down her face. She wanted nothing more than to hold Lily and to be held, but she forced herself to continue. She needed Lily to understand. She closed her eyes, shutting out the present.

  “I remember the sound of that tiny head hitting the wood, seeing her brains splatter, feeling the wetness on my face and in my hair. And I remember the hate on my mother’s face when she looked at me. ‘See what you made me do. It should have been you, you freak.’ She picked up a knife and came toward me. I ran up the stairs and hid, but she didn’t follow. After a while, I snuck downstairs again and she was talking to herself and gesturing with a gun. When she saw me standing in the doorway she smiled. I hadn’t seen that smile for a very long time and I edged closer to her, though I was still poised to run. When I stopped, she pointed the gun at me and said, ‘This is your fault,’ then she put the gun in her mouth…”

  Robin shuddered, reliving the sound of the gun, the feeling of the wet spray, and seeing her mother drop to the floor. She took another bottle of water and, keeping her back to Lily, drank the whole thing.

  “Oh, Robin.”

  Aware tha
t Lily had stood up, she avoided looking at her and quashed her response to the sympathy and love she heard in Lily’s voice. She was determined to tell her the whole story and didn’t want to break down.

  “I was a little over six years old. I remember the blood splashing me. I remember trying to wake her. Ted and Paul got home about six o’clock that night and found me covered in blood and brain tissue sitting by her body, holding her hand and cradling what was left of her head in my lap. I was in shock. The medical examiner estimated she’d died between nine and ten in the morning. The autopsy found that she was filled with drugs and alcohol. Apparently after Paul was born she suffered from depression, which got worse after I was born.”

  Suddenly she was in Lily’s arms, and Lily was petting and kissing her. “My poor, Robin. I’m so sorry. So sorry, I didn’t know. I would have made you stay.”

  “I didn’t know myself, Lily. I repressed everything. Ted said my father and I acted as if it hadn’t happened. He couldn’t accept it and I guess my little brain couldn’t handle it so I forgot it. Afterward, my father hired someone to cook and clean and be there in the day for us, but she was also an alcoholic and did the minimum. She thought I was retarded because I was withdrawn and didn’t speak to her.

  “My dad hadn’t realized I wasn’t in school but didn’t do anything about it when he found out. Then, months later, I got sick and the family pediatrician realized I wasn’t in school and he sent a social worker to register me. I started first grade the September after I turned eight. Because that was far from where I was intellectually, I became a problem student. My dad totally withdrew from us and pretty much ignored the school’s complaints. I was promoted because it was clear I had mastered whatever they were supposed to be teaching, but no one ever paid much attention until Barbara Fielding took me under her wing.”

  Robin was close to collapsing, but she wanted to get it all out now that she’d started. Hopefully, it would help Lily understand. “Let’s sit.” She led Lily to the sofa.