by Pike, Leslie
“Well that’s obvious, Vivian.” My father smirks.
“Dad, I see you haven’t changed. Still your same charming self.” I shoot him a dirty look.
I give him a perfunctory peck on the cheek, which he doesn’t return. Good, keep your kiss to yourself. I’m only doing it for ‘Mom’s sake anyway. The smell of his stale cologne almost sickens me. How can my mother stand it? Almost forty years with an annoying, miserable prick of an unfaithful man.
Paul reaches his hand out to my dad and they shake. “I’m glad to finally meet you, Richard.”
“Everybody calls him Dick,” I say regretfully, leaving the “a” out.
Well, at least that’s what I call him. Others say it behind his back. But Paul doesn’t know that so he follows my lead.
“Dick, Vivian, thanks for coming. I know you don’t leave Texas too often, but I thought it would be a good opportunity to finally meet and celebrate our girl’s birthday together.”
The Dick and I remain quiet. But my mother appreciates the sentiment.
“It was really lovely of you, Paul. Thank you again,”
“Lovely?” my father says as if she’s used the wrong word. As if he’s the resident wordsmith. The reality is the man has trouble putting a sentence together.
“Well, I mean nice. It was so nice. I miss my little girl.”
“She’s hardly little. How old are you now? Almost forty?” Dick looks at me as if he’s made the fatal blow. But it’s pleased him so much he starts laughing.
Everyone else at the table is appropriately embarrassed at Dick’s lack of class. It’s better to ignore him completely. I’ll pick my moment. Reaching across the table, I take my mother’s soft hands in mine.
“I think it’s lovely too. I’m really happy to see you, Mom.”
No one has missed my point or my exclusion. Paul’s scrambling to make conversation because my fucking father’s sitting there stone cold silent with a bored look on his face.
“So did you find the key all right, Dick?” Paul asks.
“We found it.”
I’m afraid to ask the next question. “What key?”
Paul’s more afraid to answer. “Um, our condo key. I left it over the door. Your parents are staying with us for the weekend. Isn’t that great?” he says knowing I’m not about to agree.
I’m not able to have the reaction I want to at this moment. I’d like to jump on top of Paul and start swinging until he’s a bloody pulp. Instead, I just smile and assure my mother everything’s all right.
“How wonderful! I get to have you for two whole days?”
Her face lights up. “Yes! It’s like it’s my birthday.”
“That’s right, Vivian, make it all about you,” Dicky Downer says.
Public humiliation is his thing. Somehow it makes him feel better about himself. I was his target too while growing up. He loved to point out my flaws or mistakes. And the more witnesses he had while doing it the better. But he couldn’t break or tame me. As soon as I was old enough to tell him to go fuck himself I did. That’s when he stopped belittling me in front of people. Because what I’d say would get the bigger laugh, and it would be on him.
I watch my mother’s eyes lower in that familiar supplication I’m so used to seeing. It makes me want to cry. But I know if I come back at him now, here, everything will fall apart. He’ll have an excuse to leave, and once again it’ll be my mother who pays the price. She wants just two measly days with me away from her routine life. I wonder what she had to do to get him to agree to come? Already she treats him like a king. He’s made her into his little fembot. What else is there?
“I’m really happy you’re here. Let’s get a drink and toast to Paul’s thoughtful gift,” I say to my mother. Then I look to my father. “That’s how a man treats a woman.”
That was the last thing I said to my father, and an hour and a half later we’re ready for the bill. I’m certain Paul will pay and Dick will not. He won’t even pretend to offer. No matter that it makes him look cheap and unmanly, he’s not self-aware enough to comprehend the finer points of behavior. That was the quickest meal I could manage. The lack of conversation between the men is glaring in its absence. Awkward. The only thing my father got animated about were the high prices on the menu. It got tedious after the second mention.
Paul was searching for topics of conversation at first, but he eventually gave up and concentrated on my mother and I. She’s happy telling him stories of my youth and the crazy things I got into. I always had an appreciative audience in her. She thought her daughter was creative and funny, and that just egged me on. My father wasn’t as charmed with me or these stories. So, of course I’ll tell the one he hates the most, just to stick it to him.
“Hey Dad, remember when I taped your visits to the bathroom? Oh my God that was hysterical.”
Dick just grunts. I know my mother however finds the memory funny. But she dare not look like she’s agreeing with me. But she slips a smile.
“Oh Barrie, that wasn’t very nice,” she says instead.
“What’d you do?” asks Paul.
“I hid my tape recorder behind the toilet. Everything he did in that room for a week was recorded then spliced together in a ten-minute stream of poops, farts, belches, grunts and well, use your imagination. But the best part was the music I used as the background. It was Beethoven’s Fifth.”
I hum a few notes in memory of one of my finest brainstorms. I see Paul’s stunned look, my father’s tethered anger and ‘Mom’s silent support.
“Then I played it over the loud speaker in the garage where my dad worked. It was a huge hit with the men. Of course, I did an introduction.”
I go into a recreation of my infamous recording. “Presenting the musical stylings of Richard Blue or Dick Blue as some of you may call him.”
I begin to hum the music and insert random sound effects to highlight the right notes. “Ta da da da…”
“You didn’t. Really?” Paul says his jaw dropping.
“Really.”
Dick just shoots me a look. I hate you it says. Right back at you, Dad. He takes a few beats before he turns to Paul.
“What is it that you do, Paul? I mean for a living.”
“I’m a psychologist. My practice opens next week.”
“I thought that’s what Vivian told me. Maybe you can cure this one.” He flicks his thumb at me. “We weren’t able to.”
The rest of the conversation goes downhill. Of course my father decides to use the bathroom as soon as we walk out of the restaurant. Typical. I see my mother go back inside to hurry him along.
“Holy shit,” I spit out in a whisper. “What were you thinking?”
“How was I supposed to know you have an idiot for a father?” His jaw tightens with the words.
“Well, here’s an idea. You could have listened to me. How many times have I said I’m not close to my dad? Or told you how poorly he treats my mother? It has to be at least a hundred times. Have I ever said I wanted them to come visit me? No. There’s a reason. Christ, Paul.”
Now he’s getting annoyed. “I just tried to do something nice for you. You could show a little gratitude for my efforts you know. They’re just going to be here for two days.”
My head’s about to explode. “Oh, just two days? Great! Let’s see how you feel then. And what about Steven and Bliss’ party tomorrow night? I guess we’re not going now.”
Paul’s face takes on a new expression. I think it may be dread. “Uh oh,” he says.
“What did you do?”
“I invited your parents to the party. I checked with Bliss and she said no problem.”
My jaw drops. I’m just about to lay into him when I spot my father coming out the door. He holds it open for my mother and lets her pass. As if he’s a gentleman. Yeah right.
Our drive back to the condo seems so much longer than the twenty minutes it actually takes. Mom and I make small talk and hear about each other’s latest news. She liste
ns to me talk as only a mother does, with pride and interest and love. I think I could tell her about my trip to the grocery store and she’d find the telling fascinating. I feel the same way about her. She has this charming little lopsided smile that’s so natural and genuine. When she loosens up her witty side shows through. There’s so much more to her than what my father chooses to see. The best is hidden and pushed down. He definitely married up.
The men ride in silence. They’ve already given up on each other, but both are just putting in the time till the weekend passes. It’s bad enough when men actually like each other. Even then they’re not thrilled about having to make small talk. This is a whole other level. It didn’t take Paul long to size up my father. And that’s not just because of his professional background. It’s more about the fact that my dad reveals himself in every conversation. A baboon would figure out he was a prick after one shared banana.
When we get back to the condo my father says a hasty goodnight and retreats to his bedroom.
“You coming, Vivian?” he calls from the room. It sounds like a question, but I know it’s a command.
“In a minute.”
Wow. Good going, Mom. That was surprising. Maybe Vivian’s growing a tiny pair. She’s looking out the window at the spectacular view of the Golden Gate Bridge. The twinkling lights of the city make for a magical scene. Too bad Dad missed it. He seems to miss all the beauty of life.
“How about a nightcap?” Paul says.
“Do you have coffee? I’ll have that if it’s made,” Mom answers.
“Me too. Coffee sounds good.”
Paul takes off his jacket and heads for the kitchen.
“Come sit with me,” I say.
I toss my coat on the back of a chair and kick off my torturous heels. My mother folds her jacket neatly and places it on the barstool where she’s left her purse.
“You’re the neatest person I know.”
She gives a little laugh and throws her hands up. “I’m hopeless. Old dogs, new tricks, you know the rest.”
Whenever she’s out of my father’s earshot, her real personality emerges. The one that’s not under his microscope. Here it comes now. There’s an ease about her conversation that disappears whenever he’s listening. It’s obvious why. She’s weighing everything that comes out of her mouth, because it’s all being scrutinized. No matter that the woman has to be at least fifty IQ points smarter than he’ll ever be.
“I wish I had a few of your neatnik genes, Mom. Paul would probably agree with me on that one.”
“No he wouldn’t. I like you just the way you are,” he says as he carries in a tray with coffee, sugar, crème and his glass of whiskey. He puts it down on the table in front of the couch where we’re sitting. “Maybe if you change one thing it would be like a house of cards. Everything might collapse. So I’d prefer you just keep it all as it is.”
“What a romantic thing to say. Barrie, I think you found yourself a good one.”
I smile at Paul for the first time since I got my big birthday surprise.
“Yeah, Mom, believe it or not I haven’t scared him off yet. He seems to get me and hasn’t tried to change who I am. Amazing, huh?”
“Believe me my daughter, when you let a man change who you are, you never find yourself again.”
Damn.
Chapter Seven
NICKI
Jack’s saying all the right things. How’re you feeling? Can I do anything for you? When’s the doctor’s appointment? What’s really happening is he’s trying to make up for his reaction when I told him I was pregnant. There’s a part of me that feels sorry for him because he’s on a fools journey. Both of us know there’s no taking it back. What can he can do or say that will make me forget that scene? And where do I go from here? I can stay angry and wounded, but that won’t make things right. What I have to do is forgive and try to believe what he’s telling me now. But the thing is, I can see he’s only acting like he’s excited. Acting, not being.
He said the news was a shock. There was the assumption we weren’t considering having children because it never came up, and we’ve been content with things as they are. Our ages would make it difficult for the child and for me. Too many health risks was how he put it. I call bullshit. But now that it’s’ happened, he says he’s thrilled. That word was actually used. You may be a great actor Jack, but you don’t seem to be very suited to this role. I can see the fear behind your eyes, and it’s genuine. You haven’t been able to hide that no matter how many times you tell me otherwise. I’ve never seen you afraid of anything. Why does this gift from heaven throw you?
I need to figure out which part of this he’s most frightened of. Is it the prospect of the changes in our lives that will most certainly happen? Maybe he feels too old to take on becoming a new father. I can think of a hundred other possibilities and each one sounds plausible. If you look hard enough you can talk yourself out of anything and find plenty of reasons to decide against something. Whatever it is, he’s going to have to get over it, because this is happening whether or not he’s ready. And I’m going to have to forgive him for the same reason.
At least we’re getting out of the house for a few days. San Francisco is just the place to run away to. I haven’t been back since Bliss sold her real estate business early this year, and I subsequently lost my job. That was serendipity at work. She had found her passion in writing, and Jack and I came to the decision we want to travel the world as a couple and not be separated every time he goes on location. So when two prospective buyers got in a bidding war and the buyout was greater than anything she had anticipated, Bliss pulled the trigger. And as is her way, she rewarded my years with her generously. She didn’t hold back because of my husband’s wealth, but based it entirely on my work. It’s great to know I have my own money apart from Jack’s fortune. I’ve made mine, and somehow it makes it easier to accept and enjoy his.
Once we get to San Francisco I’m counting on our friends to distract us with talk of the wedding and filming. It’s going to be just what we need. Bliss will straighten my thinking out, she’s done it before. There have been times when we’ve been each other’s voice of reason. She’ll find a logical excuse for his behavior, and I’ll believe her because I need to. The girlfriend’s handbook states when you come to a roadblock in life that you can’t cross on your own, your friend will point the way through. Even if she’s not sure you’ll make it, she’ll pretend that you will. And then pretty soon you’ll believe it yourself.
And Steven will be good for Jack. I’m sure they’ll process things in a different way, but they trust each other with their secrets. Steven knows where the bodies are buried and vice versa. Maybe Jack will take him in his confidence. At the very least they’ll talk, just as Bliss and I will. But I guarantee they’ll use a lot fewer words when they do.
I zip shut the last bag just as Jack comes into the room.
“The car’s here. You ready?”
“All done,” I say.
He comes to me and takes me in his arms. “Give us a kiss.”
I look down to my tummy. “Give us a kiss.”
“Gladly.” He bends over and gently kisses the spot where they baby lays.
I run my hand across the back of his neck.
“Think we should share our news with Steven and Bliss?” he asks.
For a nanosecond I consider not telling him the truth, but I reject the idea. I’m not going to start keeping secrets now. “They already know,” I say as I look directly in his eyes.
I see by his expression that he’s shocked and I think a little miffed.
“Really? When did that happen?”
“That night. I needed my friend, and Steven happened to be there with her.”
He starts to gather the few pieces of luggage to bring downstairs.
“I’ve talked to him twice since then, and he never mentioned anything,” he says.
“I guess he was waiting to hear the news from you first.”
&
nbsp; “Probably,” he says dully.
“One thing we do need to do is call our families. If they hear it on the news or see it in a rag magazine it’ll be hurtful. I want my mother to hear it from us first. So let’s do that when we get to the hotel. We’ll have some time before the party,” I say.
He takes in my words and gets lost in his thoughts for a moment. But I’m not giving him any opening to disagree. I start for the stairs.
“Let’s go.”
Funny how quickly a person gets used to flying in a private jet. This one’s comfy cozy. I think it took me two trips before it felt like the only way I’d ever traveled. Jack’s considering buying his own next year, and I’m really not opposed to the idea. Going through an airport and being on a commercial line is a nightmare for a movie star and his family. It disturbs us and all the other travelers who aren’t interested in touching, talking with or sitting next to Jack, like many are.
Up to now he’s had the use of ‘friends’ planes and jets whenever he needed to get somewhere. Some out of the kindness of their hearts and others trying to make a famous friend. In the past he wouldn’t mind the favors, but since we got together we’re traveling more. With the baby coming it makes even more sense. It’s one thing to offer your multimillion-dollar jet to the movie star. It’s quite another to invite his diapered drooling toddler onto your expensive goose leather and suede seats and cashmere and silk carpets.
The Gulfstream G280 is a beauty. There’s room for nine passengers, comfortable reclining seats and a satellite communications system that provides Wi-Fi.
“Is this the jet you’re considering?” I ask.
“It was. I think I’ll hold off on that for a while.”
“Why? What changed your mind?”
He looks uncomfortable. “I just don’t think we should jump into such a big purchase. Let’s wait a year or so.”
“Is it about the baby?”
“No. it’s about the twenty-one million dollars. Correction, twenty-one million five hundred thousand.”