Charley's Web

by Joy Fielding

  “Did we really expect them to come?” Charley asked for both of them.

  Elizabeth sank into one of the kitchen chairs, pushed a bag of groceries aside. “I guess I must have.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “I just keep hoping….”

  “I know. I keep hoping, too.”

  “What about Bram?”

  “I don’t think I’d count on him showing up either,” Charley said. She’d called Bram several times this morning without success. He hadn’t returned any of her messages.

  “I bought so much food.”

  “So I noticed.”

  Elizabeth smiled sadly, her bottom lip trembling. “What about that young man you’re seeing? Think he’d like to try some of my famous chicken dinner?”

  Charley was about to say no—hadn’t she already decided it was too early to introduce Alex to her family?—but then she decided, what the hell? Having Alex around might keep the evening from being a total disaster. So she called him, explained what had happened.

  “What time do you want me?” came his immediate response.

  “He’ll be here at six thirty,” Charley told her mother.

  “In that case,” Elizabeth said, pushing herself to her feet and glancing at the clock on the microwave oven. “We’d better get this show on the road.”

  “That was quite possibly the best chicken I’ve ever had in my entire life,” Alex said, polishing off the last of the food on his plate.

  “And that was definitely the best wine,” Elizabeth said in return. “Thank you for bringing it.”

  “Can I try some?” James asked.

  “I think you should stick to milk for a while,” Charley told her son, smiling at the small group gathered around her kitchen table. Her instincts had been correct. Inviting Alex had been a great idea. He got on well with the kids and her mother, and seemed to have taken at least some of the sting out of Bram’s failure to appear. Unlike his sisters, Bram hadn’t even had the decency to call. Charley had phoned his apartment again just as her mother was serving dinner, listened to the now-familiar instructions on his voice mail to leave a detailed message after the beep. She hadn’t needed to go into a lot of detail. Her message had been clear and succinct: “Asshole,” she’d said before slamming down the receiver.

  “What’s your sign?” James demanded suddenly of Alex.

  “My what?”

  “Your sign,” James repeated with mock exasperation. “Franny’s a Gemini. Grandma and me are Taurus, and Mommy’s a Pisces.”

  “He’s developed an interest in astrology,” Charley said.

  “My dad’s marrying a Leo,” James said, as if this explained everything.

  “Well, then, let’s see. My birthday’s November fifth,” Alex said. “What does that make me?”

  James gave the date a moment’s thought. “A Virgo. No, wait. A Scorpio.”

  “Mommy’s birthday’s next week,” Franny announced.

  “It is?”

  “March tenth,” she elaborated.

  “One of the happiest days of my life,” Elizabeth said softly.

  Charley’s eyes welled up with tears. She fought the urge to get up from her seat and take her mother in her arms, kiss her warm, soft cheeks. Instead, she got up from the table and began noisily clearing away the dishes.

  “In that case, we’ll have to do something special to celebrate,” Alex said.

  “Can we go to Disney World?” James began bouncing up and down in his seat.

  “James…” Charley cautioned.

  “We’ve never been to Disney World,” Franny said.

  “Franny…”

  “Nor have I,” Elizabeth chimed in.

  “Mother…”

  “Me neither,” Alex concurred. “And actually, I’ve always wanted to go.”

  “Can we go, Mommy? Can we? Can we?” Franny and James asked with one voice, Franny jumping almost as far out of her chair as her brother.

  “We could drive up on Saturday morning, spend the night, and leave Sunday afternoon,” Alex said.

  “Please, please, please.”

  “My secretary can make all the arrangements,” he offered. “Come on, Charley. It’ll be fun.”

  “Can we go, Mommy? Please. Can we go?”

  “I don’t know…”

  “Where are we going?” came a voice from the front hall. All eyes shot toward the sound.

  “Uncle Bram!” James jumped from his seat and raced into the hall. “We’re going to Disney World next week for Mommy’s birthday! Want to come?”

  Charley found herself holding her breath as James dragged her brother into view.

  Bram was wearing a gray silk shirt and a pair of neatly pressed black pants, his dark hair trimmed since the last time she’d seen him, his eyes sober and penetrating. Charley thought she’d never seen him look more beautiful. Or more frightened.

  What should she do? Introduce them? Bram, this is your mother. Mother, this is your son. She wondered if he even realized that neither Emily nor Anne was there, and when he opened his mouth to speak, she felt as if her heart might stop beating, so afraid was she of what he might say.

  “Sorry I’m late.” Bram avoided his mother’s steadfast gaze and focused directly on Charley. “It smells great. Anything left for me?”

  Elizabeth Webb was instantly on her feet. “I’ll get you a plate,” she said, never taking her eyes off her son.

  Charley pulled another chair to the table, took her brother’s hand, and sat down beside him, not sure who was trembling more.

  “Okay, kids, bedtime. Say goodnight to everyone,” Charley announced at just past eight o’clock. Dinner was over, dessert had been served, and Bram was lingering over his third cup of coffee. Neither he nor their mother had touched much of their peach pie.

  James hugged both his mother and grandmother, then looked hopefully at Alex. “Are you really taking us to Disney World?”

  Alex glanced over at Charley, raised one eyebrow. When you can’t beat ’em…she thought, and smiled her agreement.

  “Yay!” James cried. “We’re going to Disney World! We’re going to Disney World!”

  “Goodnight, James,” Alex said. “’Night, Franny.”

  “Goodnight, Alex,” Franny said shyly. “It was very nice meeting you.”

  “Nice meeting you, too.”

  Franny shook his hand, then kissed her mother and grandmother.

  “Can Uncle Bram read us a story?” James was already pulling on Bram’s arm.

  Bram offered no resistance. He’d said little at dinner, other than to the kids and occasionally to Alex, whose presence had undoubtedly served as a buffer, keeping long-festering resentments at bay. The only words Bram had spoken to his mother all night were to inquire—without actually looking at her—how she was, and Elizabeth had answered simply that she was fine. When she’d ventured to add that she was so grateful he’d been able to join them for dinner, Bram had muttered something about always being happy to see his niece and nephew, then spent the rest of the meal horsing around with James. “I guess I can read you a story or six,” Bram said now, allowing himself to be dragged down the hall.

  “Lights out in twenty minutes,” Charley called after them.

  “They’re great kids,” Alex told her.

  “Charley’s a wonderful mother,” Elizabeth said.

  “And you’re a wonderful cook. Thank you for a remarkable dinner,” Alex told her.

  “That sounds suspiciously like an exit line.” Charley watched Alex rise to his feet. “You’re not going, are you?”

  “I think it’s probably a good idea.” He took her hand, led her toward the front door. “I suspect the three of you have a lot to talk about.”

  “You really think that’s wise?”

  He kissed her tenderly on the lips. “I think it’s time,” he said.

  CHAPTER 30

  Okay, Bram, I think that’s enough stories for one night.” Charlie pushed open the door to her childr
en’s room half an hour later, surprised to find the room in darkness. It took her eyes several seconds to adjust, and when they did, she saw her children asleep and Bram perched on the side of Franny’s bed, staring into space, an open book on the bed at Franny’s feet.

  “They fell asleep during story number three,” he said quietly, without looking over.

  “How long ago was that?”

  “Ten, fifteen minutes.”

  “And you’ve just been sitting here ever since?”

  “I got up to turn off the lights.”

  “Then you sat back down,” Charley stated.

  “I did. It’s nice in here. Quiet. Not too crowded. Did I hear somebody leave a little while ago?”

  “Alex.”

  “Wrong answer.”

  “She’s not going anywhere, Bram.”

  “Couldn’t you have left a few travel brochures lying around? Some nice picture books of Australia to make her homesick?”

  “She is home.”

  “For now.”

  “She’s been back two years,” Charley reminded him.

  “Which is exactly how old I was when she left. There’s a kind of nice symmetry to that, I suppose.”

  “She’s really sorry.”

  “So am I.” Bram released a deep breath, as if he was struggling with a heavy weight. “She’s a stranger to me, Charley. I look at her, and there’s no connection at all.”

  “Which is strange, because you look just like her,” Charley remarked. “The dark hair, the shape of your face, your eyes, even the way you move your hands when you talk.”

  Bram immediately folded his arms across his chest, tucked his hands beneath his armpits. “You’re seeing things.”

  “No. Emily and I look more like Dad. You and Anne look just like…”

  “You’re seeing what you want to see,” Bram interrupted.

  “Maybe.”

  “I shouldn’t have come tonight.”

  “I’m glad you did. It took a lot of courage.”

  He laughed. “Yeah. That’s why I’ve been hiding in here for the last half hour.”

  “She won’t bite, Bram.”

  “She doesn’t have to.”

  Charley walked slowly toward him, held out her hand. “Come on. She’s not getting any younger.”

  Bram grabbed her hand and held on tight, although he didn’t move. “Why is it I feel as if I am?”

  Charley smiled, understanding exactly what he meant. “Come on,” she said again. “She’s waiting.”

  They sat grouped around the coffee table in the living room, like the last three pawns in a not-so-friendly game of chess, Charley on the sofa, her mother and Bram on the two oversize rattan chairs across from her. Charley’s eyes flitted nervously between her mother and brother, afraid to linger. Her mother stared anxiously toward Bram, afraid to look away. Bram stared at the floor, clearly wishing he were somewhere else.

  “I know this isn’t easy for you,” Elizabeth said to her son.

  “You know nothing about me,” Bram countered.

  “I know you’re angry, that you have every right to be.”

  “That’s very big of you, to approve of my anger.”

  “Bram,” Charley warned, leaning forward in her seat, as if preparing to leap across the coffee table and separate them, should the discussion get out of hand.

  “I’m sure there are a good many things you’d like to say to me,” Elizabeth broached.

  “On the contrary,” Bram said. “There’s absolutely nothing I have to say to you. I was taught never to talk to strangers.”

  A spot of pink materialized on Elizabeth’s cheek, as if she’d been slapped. “I’m your mother,” she said, her lower lip trembling.

  Bram laughed, the harsh sound stopping abruptly as his eyes connected with Charley’s. “Sorry. I assumed that was a joke.”

  “I know I wasn’t there for you in any meaningful way for a very long time….”

  “Try ‘no way at all for twenty-two years,’” Bram amended.

  “And words can never adequately express how sorry I am for that….”

  “No words are necessary because I’m not interested in hearing them.”

  “I thought about you every day….”

  “Well, that’s very interesting, because I didn’t think about you at all.” Bram looked toward the vase of red-and-yellow silk tulips on the bamboo table against the far wall. “Well, no, that’s not exactly true. I probably thought about you initially. I was two years old, a baby, for God’s sake, and babies need their mothers. So, I must have cried. Is that right, Charley? Did I cry?”

  “We were all very sad,” Charley acknowledged.

  “And I’ll carry that sadness with me for the rest of my life.” Elizabeth’s eyes filled with tears, the faint blush in her cheeks sweeping across her face.

  “Nobody’s asking you to carry anything,” Bram snapped. “Trust me—it’s not necessary. Because one of the neat things about being two years old is that you forget everything. Can you get your head around that? I forgot you even existed. So you can cry and say you thought about me every day for twenty-two fucking years, but the truth is that I have no memory of you whatsoever. None. Nada. Zero. Zippo. Zilch. I look at you,” he continued, really looking at his mother for the first time all night, then having to turn away again almost immediately, as if blinded by a painful flash of light, “and I see this attractive older woman who looks a little bit like me, I guess, but who means absolutely nothing to me. And I’m sorry if that sounds harsh. I’m sorry if it makes you sad. But what did you expect after all this time? I’m not Charley. Charley was eight when you left. She has memories. You left before I was old enough to process any, and for that, I’m actually very grateful. But I have no interest in picking up where we left off, or in picking up the pieces. I have no interest in getting to know you, in establishing any kind of relationship. I have no desire to bond. It’s too late. I don’t want you. I don’t need you.”

  “I think you do,” Elizabeth said with quiet conviction.

  Bram jumped to his feet, began pacing back and forth behind his chair. “Well, then I guess that’s all that matters. What you think, what you want, what you do. You’re the center of your universe, just as you’ve always been. God, I could use a drink.”

  Elizabeth was suddenly on her feet, her arms reaching out to stop Bram’s pacing. He recoiled at her touch, raised his arms in front of him, as if warding off evil spirits. “You can tell me you have no memory of me,” Elizabeth said, taking several steps back. “You can tell me I’m a stranger to you, that I’m just a selfish old woman who means nothing to you, that you don’t want anything to do with me, and I’ll have no choice but to accept that. But don’t tell me you don’t need me because I know you do. And I know that until you deal with me, your problems with alcohol and drugs are going to continue.”

  “You think my problems with drugs and alcohol are your fault? God, is there no end to your power? You know, I really could use a drink.” Bram’s eyes began skirting the room, as if searching for an errant bottle of wine.

  “Bram….” Charley cautioned.

  “I think you’ve been taking your anger at me out on yourself, that the drugs and alcohol…”

  “…are expressly so that I don’t have to listen to this kind of shit.” Bram ran his hand through his hair, then looked to the ceiling, as if appealing for help.

  “…are your way of dulling the pain.”

  “Really? Which pain is that? The pain of discovering my mother is a dyke, or the pain of knowing she’s a selfish bitch who thinks she can pop in and out of my life whenever it suits her?”

  “Bram…”

  Bram marched into the kitchen. Charley heard the sound of the fridge door opening and closing. “You don’t have one goddamn beer?” Bram demanded, returning to the living room and throwing his hands in the air, as if he were tossing out confetti. “No white wine? You didn’t buy any champagne to celebrate Emily and Anne coming
to town? Oh, wait. I forgot. They didn’t come. They had the good sense to cancel at the last minute. Thanks for telling me, by the way.”

  “We could go to a therapist,” Elizabeth offered her son. “Together.”

  “A therapist? I don’t want to go to a fucking therapist. I want to go to a fucking bar.”

  “Okay, Bram, that’s enough fucking for one night,” Charley said.

  Bram laughed. “Okay, Mommy.” He laughed again, pointed an accusatory finger at his mother. “Did you hear that? Charley was more of a mother to me than you ever were.”

  “I know that, and…”

  “And what? You’re sorry? We get that. You’re sorry. Now get this—big fucking deal!”

  There was a shuffling sound. Charley turned to see Franny standing in the doorway, James by her side.

  “Uncle Bram used the f-word,” James exclaimed, sleep-filled eyes opening wide.

  “We heard yelling,” Franny said.

  “It’s okay, sweetheart.” Charley rushed to their side. “Uncle Bram was just excited.”

  “About going to Disney World?” James asked.

  “Absolutely,” Bram agreed. “Sorry for all the noise.”

  “You’re coming, too, aren’t you, Grandma?” Franny asked cautiously, as if afraid of the answer.

  Elizabeth smiled, but said nothing.

  “It’s Mommy’s birthday,” Franny said.

  “She’s a Pisces,” James embellished.

  “Of course your grandmother’s coming,” Bram said. “You think she’d miss your mother’s birthday? Perish the thought,” he added under his breath.

  “Come on,” Charley told her children. “Off to bed.”

  “I’ll tuck them in,” Elizabeth volunteered, hurrying the children out of the room.

  “Are you all right?” Charley asked her brother as soon as they were gone.

  Bram shook his head. “I’d feel a lot better with a drink.”

  “Maybe you should call your sponsor.”

  “You ever hear such a load of crap?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe a therapist wouldn’t be such a bad idea. We could all go.”

  “Maybe I should go before Dr. Phil comes back.” He walked quickly toward the front door.