Julia went over to him and laid a hand on his shoulder, but then retracted it quickly. It felt too weird. It felt like she was giving some kind of benediction.
“I’m fond of Katie,” she said, “and I’d never ask her to do anything like that. Anyway, I’m not ready to go there.”
“Thank you.” He rose as if to hug her.
“Please understand Harry, I can’t guarantee she won’t divorce you. That’s not in my power.”
“Has she talked about that?”
“I suspect she’s going to want her freedom. We’re living in a different world now. You need to be aware of that.”
“I’m a film director. Don’t you think I know?
“So long as you do.”
“Until that time comes, I’ll take my chances.”
As soon as Harry left, Danny’s bedroom door opened and his heavy footsteps came down the stairs. He took a seat across from her.
“I was out of line.” He began to pick up the cutlery off the table. “It’s just, I had to speak my mind. It’s been bugging me ever since I knew Katie was a mother.”
“I’m glad you said it. I wasn’t sure how to deal with this.”
He rose, but made no attempt to leave. “Hey, isn’t it great we know now who’s been making those damned calls?”
“I told you it was a prank.”
Arranging closure
Her father held up two brown bags and cans of diet coke to Piper. “I was in the area and figured you’d be here.”
The sumptuous majesty of the Rose Reading Room at the New York Public Library with its spectacular ceiling murals of vibrant skies and sunlit clouds had always been a productive place for her to study during her NYU years, especially when she’d had to write essays or cram but had cabin fever and needed to get out of her apartment. They sat by Prudence, the south-facing lion. He’d bought her a BLT on wholemeal with extra mayo and a layer of ‘bread and butter’ pickle chips, a favourite sandwich from her childhood she rarely ate now because it was so unhealthy. Near where they sat, a young, immaculately dressed woman stood before a middle-aged man. He’d set his briefcase between his legs and was clutching a slim rust-coloured folder, the sort litigation attorneys carry to court. As Piper listened, the woman responded to his rapid-fire questions. It was a job interview for an associate position at the man’s law firm.
“Only in Manhattan do they hold interviews on the street,” Piper said. “What a rat race.”
Her father broke off a piece of rye bread and tossed it viciously into the street. Three pigeons immediately scrambled to reach it first.
“I didn’t make detective.”
“Jeez Dad, I’m sorry.”
“My life’s going south with no stops in between.”
“Don’t say that.”
“Some guy five years younger got the job.” He sighed as he looked out to the street. “Really thought I’d get it too. My buddy’s a first grader and he told me the crime and narco work I’ve done would be recognised as investigative by the department. Go figure.”
“Next time.”
A pause ensued. “If there is a next time.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothin’. That’s what it means.”
“What’s bugging you?”
“It’s not as if people are depending on me anymore, is it? Your Mom’s gone. You’re grown up and making it on your own now. Rory’s… well, that’s all I’m tryin’ to say.”
Her father was a fighter, it wasn’t like him to talk like that. “I depend on you.”
“I love you too, hon. You’re all I have left.”
“You’re young, Dad. Apply again next year.”
He looked across the street for a moment. “I want you to think about something.” He paused. “When you decide to get married someday, would you maybe think about not switching our last name… and give the kids the name, too.”
Piper watched the people walking up and down the library steps.
“I know, I know. I’m the traditionalist and this is kinda unusual. It’s just when I pass, our name dies.” He slapped his hands on his thighs. “This probably sounds dumb, huh?” He smiled. “You don’t have to give me your answer now.”
Piper gripped his forearm. “You can still meet someone, settle down and start another family. People do that all… ”
“Your mother’s the only woman for me.”
“She’s moving on and you should too. ”
“How come you’ve never said what you think of this guy she’s seeing?”
“I… you never asked.”
“Come on now. This is your old man you’re talking too.”
Piper squeezed the remains of the sandwich into the greaseproof sheet of paper and put it into the bag. The truth was, the evening she’d gone to dinner at the Bronx apartment Juan and her mother shared had been full of surprises, the first of which had been Juan. He was six inches shorter than her mother, as well as eight years younger. Surprise number two had been the revelation her mother had taken up swimming because Juan was a member of a snorkeling club. Her mother had always been terrified of water. The final surprise had been the amount of fawning, her mother’s Irish reserve about displaying affection clearly tossed out with her marriage. She’d tousled Juan’s hair, giggled and stroked his biceps at the table like a mob boss’ moll.
“You want the truth?” she said to her father. “He’s a nice guy who makes great fried plantains.”
Her father didn’t smile.
“I think you and Juan would get on if circumstances were different.”
The blare of emergency vehicles racing down Fifth Avenue grew louder and louder until it drowned out the natural city din. When the vehicles reached the intersection, the traffic lights were still on red. A fire engine crossed, then another, their occupants seated in the cabs staring out impassively at the rubbernecking pedestrians. Instinctively, Piper covered her ears with her hands and stared at her knees until the sound receded.
“I’ve been thinking about something for a while.” Her father stared deep into Piper’s eyes. “I’d love if we could all go to Rory’s grave together.”
“No problem.”
“Ask your mother when she can make it?”
“Mom, too?”
“Sure. Things’ll be changed forever after she marries that guy. Let’s be a family one last time. It’s not too much to ask. All of us together with Rory one last time.”
“Mom, all I’m saying’s, I don’t see what the problem is,” Piper said.
“It’s dysfunctional. That’s my problem.” Her mother did another half-turn in front of the dressing mirror, smoothed the dress around her waist and hips and checked her profile again. “I do like this, you know.”
“It’s too short, and this country’s full of dysfunctional families. Dysfunctional’s the new normal.”
“My legs look good in it, no?”
“It’s appropriate for someone in her twenties, Mom.”
“Appropriate. I hate that word. It’s… it’s so… ”
“Appropriate?”
“Judgmental.” Her mother put her face closer to the mirror and checked her face, pulling back the skin around the corners of her eyes so the shallow crow’s feet disappeared. “And no offence, but you’ve never been interested in clothes so your opinion doesn’t amount to a hill of beans.”
“None taken.”
They were in the ladies department at Bloomingdales to purchase Piper’s dress for the wedding, which she’d decided upon after trying on just three. Unfortunately, her mother spotted dresses she liked as well, but was annoyingly indecisive. As a teenager, Piper stopped going shopping with her for this reason.
“I suppose you’re right,” her mother said. She returned to the changing room and Piper began to type at her laptop again.
“The other thing is, I like to go to see Rory alone,” her mother said. “That’s a problem.” She came out. “Let’s get outta here.”
Piper saved her document and stuffed the laptop into her satchel.
“I think we should go to the cemetery,” she said, in a last ditch effort while they were on their way to the café on the sixth floor. “Think about it. All of us together with Rory one last time. You owe Dad that.”
“I owe him nada.”
“Learning Spanish, are we?” Her mother didn’t speak. “Rory, then. You owe it to him.”
Her mother glared at her. “Don’t say that to me ever again. A long life was what Rory was owed and he never got it.”
Her remark was so bitterly loud, two women ahead of them on the escalator turned to stare.
“I’m sorry,” Piper said.
They travelled the remainder of the journey in awkward silence. When they arrived on the sixth floor, her mother said, “Look, I’ll come to the cemetery… ” She started toward the down escalator. “Right now, I really need to leave.”
Tea and rancor
“You had a visitor this afternoon,” Julia said to Danny as he came into the garden.
Wearing a canary yellow, orange and blue tie-dyed sarong, she was sitting on a fan-backed wicker chair reading a romance novel. Julia’s gaze darted beyond him to Finty emerging from the French doors, and then lowered to take in the sight of her ungainly puppy loping toward her. It had been weeks since Danny had seen the puppy and, after remarking on it at the Institut that morning, she’d asked him to wait in a pub and then surprised him by driving back to her flat and fetching him. A small gesture, but one that pleased Danny enormously.
For a while after Danny declared his feelings for Finty, he’d felt excruciatingly awkward in her presence. They still sat together in class and chatted, but never about what had occurred that afternoon. They also went for coffee, or to the park, or quiet pubs where they wrote their assignments side-by-side, but it was now always uppermost in his mind she had a boyfriend. But inevitably, as time passed, their awkwardness diminished and the friendship resumed its earlier pattern.
“Your puppy’s a cracker,” Julia said. She put down her book and hugged him as he joyfully licked her cheek with his very pink tongue. “I wish my hair was that soft.”
“It’s the poodle in him,” said Finty, as pleased as a new mother. “They have hair not fur.”
“He’s utterly adorable.”
Adorable was what Danny had once thought when the puppy was a small cute ball of fur. Now it was in the gangly stage of early adolescence, with long awkward legs and a snout too long for his head.
“Who was my visitor?” Danny said.
“Your ex-fiancée.”
“That’s not funny, Julia.”
“I’m serious. I asked if she wanted to come in and wait, but she said she’d try again in a couple of hours.” Julia ceased patting the dog and looked at her watch. “Round about now, actually.”
His heart pounded. Why was she visiting him? Hadn’t his letter been enough?
“You never said you were engaged,” Finty said.
There was a curious expression on her face, a sort of hybrid between astonishment and disappointment. Despite his predicament, Danny liked her response.
“‘Were’ being the operative word,” he said.
“I should leave,” Finty said.
Their end-of-course examination was imminent and they had a lot of grammar and vocabulary to revise.
“You don’t need to leave.”
“I have to, though,” said Julia. “Time I got ready for work.” She patted the dog’s head one last time before leaving.
“You are a dark horse,” Finty said.
“Well, you are, too.”
Susan’s jeans were designer and so tight they looked uncomfortable. It didn’t help she’d put on eighteen pounds since he’d last seen her, especially on her tummy and backside. Finty’s dog sprinted to the front door, leapt up and placed his front paws on her.
“Get this brute away from me.” She arched her back and held out her hands.
“He’s harmless,” said Danny
“You’ve bought a dog?”
“He belongs to a friend of mine. Come and meet her.”
“A woman?”
After introducing them, Danny invited Susan to sit on his chair and left to fetch another one from the dining room. Finty was explaining how they’d become friends when he returned.
“How’s your Dad doing?” Danny said to Susan.
“It’s a slow recovery. So much has been going on at home, you can’t believe.”
“I’m sorry to hear your father’s been ill,” Finty said.
Susan nodded and turned back to Danny. “You wouldn’t recognise him. He’s skin and bone. We might have to sell the business.” She wiped the corners of her eyes. “This has been so hard on me, your father suggested I take a holiday. But I wouldn’t until now. I mean, how could I leave Mother to cope all alone? It wouldn’t have been responsible.” She paused and looked at him.
“I’m just going to go upstairs a minute, Danny,” Finty said.
“Gosh,” Susan said, “I hope we’re not boring you with our troubles.”
“So sorry again,” Finty said. She started hastily toward the house.
Susan watched until Finty and her dog disappeared inside. “She’s pretty, isn’t she?”
“Yes.”
“And not a pick of fat on her. I’m sure I must look as big as a bus in comparison, eh?”
Danny shifted in his chair. “Did Dad suggest you come to London?”
She continued to look toward the French doors. “That dog certainly makes itself pretty free around this house.”
He didn’t speak.
“Aye, not many visitors feel free to go upstairs in people’s homes?”
“It was a polite way of saying she needed to use the loo.”
“Didn’t I see a toilet at the far side of the kitchen when I came through just now?”
“Was it my father’s idea you visit me?”
She picked up Finty’s dictionary and began to leaf through it. “You have to learn all these words?”
Finty came outside. “I’m leaving now.”
Susan held out the dictionary for her to take.
“We’ll revise another time.” Finty gathered the rest of her books and clipped the puppy’s lead onto his collar.
He escorted her to the door. Susan was poking about the kitchen when he returned. While he made tea, Susan talked about her flight, the hotel she was staying at and updated him on what was happening to people they both knew back home.
“What do you plan to do while you’re here?” Danny asked, as they walked into the living room.
“I thought you might show me round a bit.”
“Unfortunately not. My final exams are coming up and I’ve got stuff to do.”
“It’s great the course is over soon.”
He sipped his tea.
“Will you get a certificate at the end?”
How like his father she was, Danny thought. “Probably.”
“Your father’s looking forward to you coming home.” She smiled coyly. “Me, too.” Another smile. “Do you know when that will be?” Her eyebrow lifted slightly as she awaited his answer.
He set his mug down so hard on the coffee table the tea splashed over the rim and pooled at the base.
“We need to talk.”
“I wondered how long it would take until you brought the subject of us up. I said to myself, ‘He’ll wait until tomorrow. He’ll wait until I’m feeling comfortable.’” She sighed. “It’s not to be.”
“There is no us anymore. You know that, Susan.”
“I don’t know anything of the sort.” She looked at him without blinking for a few moments. “What I do know is you’re taking advantage of my situation. Instead of supporting me when I’m suffering under a terrible strain, you decided to stick the knife in.”
She turned away and began sobbing. The sight of a woman crying always unsettled him. He went into the kitchen and fetched some kit
chen roll.
“Please don’t cry.”
“How can I not?” She took the paper sheets and dabbed her eyes. “No-one knows what I’ve had to endure except your father. He knows how to keep promises. He knows the meaning of the word ‘responsibility’. I wish you did.”
He didn’t immediately respond. His gaze focused on the lime-green and scarlet lights moving up and down like dancing bar graphs on the CD player’s front panel as the music played. He’d never understood why they surged and ebbed with equal fervour. It didn’t matter whether the music played loudly or softly.
“I admit I said I was postponing our marriage when I told you I was moving to London. But I didn’t lie. That’s what I believed.”
“Like hell you did.”
“I have the right to change my mind. And I took responsibility when I told you I had.”
“It’s not that simple. There are other considerations in play now, Danny.”
His eyes narrowed but he didn’t speak.
“What if I were to tell you you’re going to be a daddy?”
An enormous quake erupted inside Danny’s chest. His brain ran frantic, trying to recall when they’d last had sex. “We used condoms.”
“Which aren’t foolproof.”
He remembered the morning Julia burst into the house in a panic looking for the telephone number of the family planning clinic. Was this why Susan had put on so much weight?
“You’d have told me before now.”
“Two can play the surprise game.” Susan flicked a piece of lint off her jeans. “So what are we going to do about it?”
His mouth felt dry, as if he’d eaten a ball of cotton wool. He took a large sip of tea. “If you’re pregnant, I’ll help raise the baby.”
“I’m glad to hear it.”
“But I’m not going to marry you.”
“I’d have your baby and you won’t marry me?”
“That’s right.”
“Do you know what people will say about me? They’ll say I’m a whore. They’ll say I’m immoral. They’ll talk about me and my family behind our backs.” She picked up her mug and threw the tea over his face. Its contents were lukewarm. She smacked him across the face, the whack so hard it reverberated around the room. “Fuck you, you spineless cur.” Making a fist, she hit him on the mouth and began pummeling his chest.
Twisted Agendas Page 18