Bitter Rose

by Melody Carlson

  “I’m sorry, Dad,” I tell him. I wish I could go over there and hug him or something, but for the moment, this is the best I can do. “I had no idea. And Mom doesn’t know either?”

  He looks up and shakes his head. “I know I should’ve told her, but I figured she’d just laugh in my face. I guess I couldn’t take it. I thought I could get hired someplace else and just pretend this never happened.”

  “So that’s why our finances are such a wreck?”

  “I traded my Explorer for an old Honda that barely runs. I’ll be out of this place by the end of the month.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “I don’t know.” Then he sits up straighter. “So tell me, how’s your mom doing? Did she take Louisa’s death pretty hard?”

  “Yeah, you can say that.”

  “Too bad. How about Elisa and Marc—are they okay?”

  “Yeah, I guess.”

  “But everybody still hates me?”

  I shrug.

  “I hear your mom has a boyfriend.”

  I consider that statement—how odd it sounds to have my father saying that about my mother. How did we ever get to this place? “Actually, he hasn’t been around too much since Louisa died. I’m hoping Mom is going to lose him.”

  Dad looks hopeful. “You don’t like him?”

  “Not at all.”

  “How about your mom—does she like him?”

  “I don’t know. I think she likes that he likes her. He’s always telling her how pretty she is and stuff like that. She kind of eats that up.”

  Dad sighs. “Yeah, I can imagine.”

  Now I look at him for several seconds, this shadow of the dad I once respected and loved. That one seems like a distant memory now. “Why did this happen, Dad? Tia Louisa once told me to get your side of the story, but I figured the only reason you left Mom was because of your affair. Was I right?”

  He picks up the dirty socks now, wads them up, and throws them toward the bathroom in the hallway. “You really want the honest answer to that question, Maggie?”

  “Yeah, I do.”

  “You think you’re old enough to handle it?”

  I consider this. “I’m eighteen, Dad—an adult by some standards.”

  He nods and then slowly exhales. “Well, during the past few years, your mom and I started to grow apart, you know what I mean? She was getting more and more caught up in her job, and I felt like she was pushing me away all the time—especially when it came to the bedroom.”

  I feel my cheeks growing warm now and wonder if I really am old enough to hear this. I mean, who wants to listen to the gory details of her parents’ sex life? But I remind myself that I asked for this, and I attempt to keep a straight face and just listen.

  “I asked her about going to get some help—for our problems, you know—but she didn’t see it as a problem. She said it was just how couples our age were supposed to act.” He picks up a pillow that’s on the floor and gives it a punch. “Well, I just didn’t see it that way. I’m sorry, but I wasn’t ready to hang it up. I’m only forty-eight, Maggie. That might seem old to you, but there’s a lot of life left in this old guy. Anyway, there used to be. I’m not so sure anymore. I’m not sure of much of anything anymore.”

  I try to process his words, try to understand how this must’ve made him feel. I remember how I felt when Ned rejected me, how badly it hurt for a while. “So you got involved with Stephanie then?”

  “Not right away, Maggie. And like I told you back at the beginning, I never really meant for that to happen.”

  “Yeah, I’m sure no one ever does, Dad—I mean, not at first anyway. But then you cross this line, don’t you? You know it’s wrong, but you still step right across it.” Even as I say this, I’m remembering that night when I was going to invite Ned to go to a hotel with me, knowing full well that it would be wrong. It was a line I was willing to cross anyway. I’m so thankful I never got the chance.

  “I guess you’re right, Maggie. You do reach that place where you have to choose, and I chose wrong. And in the process I lost everything.” He tightens his hands into fists. “Even God.”

  “No,” I say quickly, “you didn’t lose God. You just turned your back on him, Dad. I know because I did the same thing. But when I figured it out, and turned back around, well, he was still there.”

  “Maybe for you.”

  “For everyone, Dad. You know that as well as I do.”

  He looks down at the floor again. “Maybe in my head, but that’s where it stops.”

  “Well, you’re the only one who’s stopping it, Dad, because God is still there, just waiting for you to figure things out.”

  He seems to consider this but still appears unconvinced.

  “The reason I came over here …” I take in a deep breath, telling myself I can do this. I mean, how hard can it be to forgive a guy who’s so down on his luck? Even so, I have to pray for help. “The reason I came was to tell you that I forgive you, Dad.”

  He looks truly surprised now. “Really?”

  I nod. “Yes. I know that God wants me to forgive you. And even though I can kind of understand how it might’ve happened now, I still think you were wrong to cheat on Mom, but I forgive you anyway. And I’m sorry I was so mean to you—that time when I told you that you were dead.”

  “I think maybe it was prophetic, Maggie, because I do feel dead now.” He runs his hands through his hair in an act of pure frustration. “And today, at Louisa’s funeral, I was wishing it were me instead. I was wishing I had died back before this stupid thing with Stephanie ever happened. I would rather be dead and buried and remembered with dignity than to be stuck with the mess I’ve created and have to live with now.”

  “Maybe that’s what you’re doing,” I say, not even sure why or exactly what I mean. “Maybe you are sort of dying now—not physically, but maybe you’re dying to all the crud that you created so that God can give you a new life if you let him.”

  “I wish that were true.”

  “You can make it true, Dad, if you take the whole thing to God. You know you can. You know that God is all about forgiveness. Father Thomas said today that forgiveness is the cornerstone of our faith. Without it, the whole foundation crumbles.” I can’t believe I actually remembered that verbatim.

  We talk a while longer, and then I notice it’s getting dark and remember I never told Mom where I was going.

  “I better get back,” I tell him as I stand.

  “Thanks for coming, Maggie.” He gives me a sad smile. “It means a lot to see you. I hope I can see you again.”

  “Will you think about what I said?”

  “If you promise to keep talking to me.”

  “It’s a deal.” And we shake on it.

  “Are you going to tell your mom about all this?” He waves his hands. “Losing my job and being broke and useless.”

  “Do you want me to?”

  “I’d rather do it myself.”

  “Then why don’t you?”

  He nods. “Maybe I will.”

  “I’m sure she’ll enjoy it.”

  He kind of laughs. “Yeah, you’re probably right about that. She might even throw a party and invite all her friends.”

  I consider the recent loss of Louisa. “Probably not.”

  Then we say good-bye, and I drive home thinking that forgiving my dad wasn’t nearly as tough as I thought it would be. And it felt good—surprisingly good.

  But when I get home, I see Rich’s El Camino parked in front of the house and realize that just because I’ve forgiven Dad doesn’t mean life is suddenly going to be all perfect and wonderful again. I’ll admit it: Just seeing Dad suffering like that, knowing that he and Stephanie are history, well, I suppose I imagined that this could be a new beginning for my parents—like maybe he’d show up with a dozen roses, get down on his knees, and beg my mom to forgive him. And maybe he will do that sometime, but not tonight.

  twenty

  “WHAT EXA
CTLY IS GOING ON WITH YOU AND RICH ANYWAY?” I ASK MY mom about a week after Tia Louisa’s funeral. It’s Valentine’s Day, and she came home from work early and immediately started fixing herself up like she’s got some big date tonight. She’s wearing a new hot-pink dress and a lethal pair of spike heels, and I can tell she’s just had her roots touched up. Meanwhile, Rich is sitting downstairs watching TV.

  “What do you mean?” she asks as she applies a shade of lipstick that I’m sure was chosen specially for the dress.

  “I’m just curious about you and Rich. I mean, he’s becoming a permanent fixture in our house. Like, doesn’t he have a home of his own?”

  “Maggie!”

  “Okay, sorry. But I want to know what’s going on with you guys.”

  “What do you mean?” she asks again, which irritates me because I’m sure I’m being pretty clear, and it reveals just how muddled my mom’s thinking is getting.

  “I mean are you guys getting serious?”

  She laughs as she squirts some mousse into her hands and rubs it into her hair. “Serious?”

  “Yeah, serious. I mean, do you really like him? As in are you considering marrying him? Because you might as well know right up front that none of us kids, including Marc and Elisa, likes him. So if you’re thinking Rich is going to be our new daddy, well, you might want to think again.”

  “So you kids sit around discussing my love life, do you?” Her eyes are starting to spark now, like I might’ve gone a bit too far.

  “We talked about it a little, Mom—last weekend, you know. They were curious as to what you saw in him. I am too.”

  “He’s nice to me, Maggie. Is it so wrong for me to enjoy being in the company of a man who’s nice to me?”

  “But you know why he’s nice to you, Mom? I mean, you’re not dumb.”

  She gives me a sharp sideways glance as she applies some jet-black mascara. “What are you saying?”

  “You know what I’m saying, Mom. What do you think he’s interested in? In other words, are his intentions honorable?”

  This makes her laugh.

  “I’m serious, Mom. I can tell by the way he looks at you that he wants to sleep with you. Don’t tell me you don’t know that.”

  She shrugs. “That’s the way men are, little girl. The sooner you figure that one out, the smarter you’ll be.”

  “I’ve already figured that one out,” I tell her in exasperation. “I’m just relieved that you have too.”

  “I’m a grown woman, Maggie. You don’t need to worry about me.”

  “Fine,” I say. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

  Then my mom informs me that she and Rich are driving over to Lamberg. “To that lovely restaurant,” she says as she liberally sprays herself with perfume that smells like rotten flowers. Ea de Pew Pew.

  “You mean the one at that lovely inn?” I add. “So do you plan to spend the night, then?”

  “Oh, Maggie.” She frowns at me with the same expression she might’ve used when I was five years old and had just spilled red punch all over my new Easter dress.

  And so I give up. “Have a lovely evening.” I let my voice drip sarcasm.

  I drive to work later figuring she’s utterly hopeless. It’s Mom’s life, not mine, and if she wants to make a total mess of it, there’s not much I can do. Fortunately, I have only a few more months until graduation, and if she does something really stupid, like marry Rich, I can always move out.

  It’s the first night the restaurant’s been open since Tia Louisa died. As a result, everyone is pretty quiet and somber to start with, and I notice that a few more tears are shed, including my own when I walk past her office and see the door closed with a black wreath hanging on it. I still can’t believe she’s gone or how much I miss her. I feel sad to think of all those years when I never really knew her that well or that I actually used to be afraid of her. How I wish she were still here, still giving me wise words of advice.

  Fortunately, it’s Valentine’s Day and the place gets so busy that we don’t have much time to dwell in the sadness, and by the end of the night it feels as if we’ve managed a successful comeback. I imagine Tia Louisa up there in heaven smiling down on us or maybe even applauding. Casa del Sol lives on.

  I’m not too surprised that Mom isn’t home when I get back. After all, it’s not even eleven. But I am a little surprised when she’s not here the next morning. I’m also a little worried. The first thing I imagine is that Rich’s stupid El Camino hit ice on one of those hairpin curves and that he and Mom have both been killed, or maybe he’s dead and she’s pinned in his car. But I realize that I’m just being melodramatic and that they’re probably perfectly fine. Just the same, I listen to the local morning news on the radio to make sure there haven’t been any bad wrecks.

  I’m tempted to call Mom’s cell phone when it’s nearly noon and I still haven’t heard anything, but at the same time I am feeling seriously angry. Like, why should the kid be checking up on the mom? Besides, if they actually did spend the night together, like it appears they did, I’d rather not speak to her right now. I might say something really nasty and horrible.

  Suddenly I remember that I promised to meet Dad for coffee today at one. I’m not really looking forward to this, especially when I remember how down-and-out he seemed last week. Talk about depressing. But, I tell myself, he probably needs me now. And I know he hasn’t talked to Mom yet—hasn’t informed her of his unfortunate state of affairs, or nonaffairs—because I’m sure Mom would’ve been beside herself with joy to hear what a miserable wretch he has become. I was tempted to spill the beans myself, but now that she’s gone and done what I’m fairly sure that she went and did, well, I’m not so sure.

  Dad and I meet at Starbucks. I think Dad’s too embarrassed to go to Java Hut after the scene I made last time. I’m relieved to see that Dad looks more like himself today. He has on clean clothes, is shaved, and even looks slightly happy to see me.

  We order our coffee and sit down, and straightaway he tells me that he got a job. “It’s not much,” he says. “Just sales at JD Mischlers, but I think it could turn into something. I was completely honest with the personnel director, and when I interviewed with the VP, he said that something like that had happened to him once. He was willing to give me a chance.”

  I smile. “That’s great, Dad. Congratulations.”

  “I’ll be making only about half of what I used to make, but it’s better than nothing, right?”

  “Definitely. So are you going to stay in your town house, then?”

  “I don’t know.” He frowns. “I already gave notice, and I think

  I should look for something cheaper.” Now he brightens. “How’s your mom doing? Is she getting over the loss of her sister?”

  I’m sure my expression is a dead giveaway. It’s a well-known fact that I should never play poker.

  “What’s wrong?” he asks.

  “Oh, nothing.”

  “Come on, Maggie. You can tell me. I’ve already told you all my secrets.”

  So I tell him about Rich and Mom and where they went last night and how she didn’t come home.

  He sighs and looks down at his coffee. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised.”

  “Are you disappointed?” I ask. “Hurt?”

  He nods. “Yeah. But I had this coming. She never would’ve done this if I hadn’t messed up, Maggie. You really can’t blame her.”

  I’m not so sure that I agree with him on this, at least not completely. I mean, Mom made her own choice. No one forced her to go out with Rich—or to spend the night with him.

  “I just wish you had talked to her last week,” I tell him, my frustration showing. “I mean, maybe it would’ve made a difference.”

  “I tried to,” he says sadly. “I left her a couple of messages, but she never called back. She probably assumed it had to do with the divorce and the lawyers since that’s about all we talk about, and that usually just amounts to yelling and accusing.�
�� He shakes his head. “Not very pretty.”

  “I know.”

  “So she’s serious about this Rich guy?”

  I roll my eyes. “Seems that way.”

  “Well, maybe that’s for the best, Maggie. Your mom deserves a good guy.”

  “A good guy?” I kind of laugh. “Elisa and Marc and I all think he’s a sleazebucket.”

  “A sleazebucket?”

  “Yeah. We can’t stand him.” Then I give him the full description. “He’s so lame, Dad, with all his gold jewelry and that ridiculous El Camino. It’s totally humiliating. And if they decide to get married, I am like so out of there.”

  Dad actually laughs now.

  “I’m serious. This dude is bad news. And he practically lives at our house. I can’t wait to graduate so I can move out.”

  Dad gets thoughtful. “You know that if it gets really bad, Maggie, you can always come live with me. I might keep the town house if I thought you needed a place to stay.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Yeah. Not that I want to come between you and your mom, but if it would help you finish out your senior year, you know you’d be more than welcome.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind. And if Rich starts spending the night or anything like that, well, I might take you up on that offer.”

  “So it sounds like your mom has completely fallen away from her faith too.” Dad looks as though he’s on the verge of tears now. “And that would also be my fault. I can’t believe how bad I’ve messed up this family.”

  I consider this. “There are a lot of things you can blame yourself for, Dad, like as far as messing up your marriage and stuff, but I think when it comes to any of us and our faith, well, that’s the result of our own personal choices, and you can’t take the blame for that. If Mom walked away from God, it was her decision, not yours. I know it was my choice when I walked away, and it was my choice to turn around and walk back. I might’ve tried to blame that on you, but that was just an excuse.”

  “That may be true, but still, I’ve been a pretty lousy spiritual leader.”

  Okay, I guess I can’t argue with that, I silently agree.

  “And I really doubt that your mom would’ve gotten involved with this Rich character if I had stuck around.”