by Jane Gentry
Steve disagreed. In his opinion the girls had moved to a new stage along the road to understanding.
At nine-thirty Elizabeth got up and dressed. Cara was still asleep, which was unusual. She still liked her Saturday-morning cartoons, and she hadn’t been able to watch any in quite some time. The coffeepot burbled and hummed, the kitchen was warm, the sun was out, for once, and it streamed through the new yellow curtains and splashed on the bright colors in the rug.
Elizabeth sat with her hands wrapped around her coffee mug and considered the future. She and Steve usually had breakfast on Saturday morning at Humpty Dumpty’s. They’d have to establish a new routine if the detentions ceased. She picked up the phone and dialed his number to invite him and Melody for pancakes.
No answer. Probably on his way over, she thought, and began to mix batter. She stood over the bowl with the eggs in her hands and considered Sammy. She made a double recipe.
When Steve appeared a few minutes later, he had neither Sammy nor Melody with him. He punched the bell fifteen times before she could get to the door, and when she opened it, he burst through without even a hello.
“They think I owe them 17,852.64!” he said, wild-eyed. He waved a white piece of paper at her.
“Who, darling?” she asked, divesting him of his coat.
“The IRS, that’s who.” He gave her an absentminded, perfunctory kiss. “Who did you think?”
“Do you owe them the seventeen K?” She took the paper from his hand and began to read it.
“Libby!” he said. “Of course not! What am I going to do?”
“I told you not to throw those letters away unopened,” she said. She shook her head. “Honey, you really are in trouble here.”
“This is no time for recriminations,” said Steve. “What do I do now? This is from five years ago. How can they do that? Isn’t there a statute of limitations?”
“It’s seven years for taxes,” said Elizabeth. “You did keep your records, didn’t you?”
“Of course,” he said indignantly. “I just don’t know where they are.”
“Oh, Steve.”
“I know. I need a keeper. Maybe my accountant has them.”
“Check. Call him now.”
“It’s Saturday.”
“This time next Saturday you could be doing time. Call him now. Tell him to fax everything he has for the last seven years.”
“He’s in Maine,” said Steve, but he was already at the phone. A short conversation sufficed to determine that the accountant had no idea where Steve’s records were, but that he’d fax copies of the tax returns.
“Go home and get them,” said Elizabeth. “And find your records—all of your records—and come back over here. And bring Melody and Sammy, because this is going to take all day and into the night. We’ll try to get this in some sort of order by Sunday night.” She held his coat for him and headed him toward the door. “On Monday I’ll call the IRS and see what I can work out. And Steve, do it fast. This is serious.”
“You don’t need to tell me it’s serious,” he said. He kissed her, as absentmindedly as before. “Seventeen thousand dollars. That’s a whole year of college.”
Elizabeth went to the kitchen and started turning out pancakes. She had an army to feed. Two armies, if she counted Sammy.
She woke Cara and bullied her into her clothes.
“Eat now,” she said, “or don’t eat. Steve and I have to work on his taxes all day.”
When Steve and Melody returned, she stuffed them with pancakes, fed the leftovers to Sammy and cleared the table quickly. She didn’t notice what the girls were doing, except to say to Melody, “Make yourself at home. You can have any book, any food and any bed I’ve got. If you feel the need to cloister yourself away from the noise and take a nap, there’s a bedroom upstairs across from Cara’s and you’re welcome to it.” To Cara she said, “Honey, I want you to rinse these dishes for me and put them in the dishwasher.”
Then she turned to Steve.
“Okay. You separate your receipts and proofs of purchase and things like that into piles. Let me look at your tax returns.”
“How can anything be boring and terrifying at the same time?” Steve complained.
Elizabeth looked up from the papers in her hand. “You’re a madman, did you know that?”
She worked in silence for a while.
Then she said, “Who did these for you? No wonder you’re being audited. Didn’t this guy ever hear of income averaging?”
“It’s not my job to know what’s happening with my taxes,” said Steve, somewhat defensively. “It’s his.”
“For God’s sake, Steve, what an attitude. It’s your money—you have to know what’s going on with it. I’ll bet all your investments are in a mutual funds, aren’t they?”
“So what?” he said.
She rolled her eyes. “You do need a keeper,” she said.
He grinned. “You can have the job,” he said. “If you want it.”
“I’m going to have to take the job,” she said, shaking a handful of receipts at him. “If I want to keep you out of jail. Don’t you know you can’t deduct car repairs?”
Sammy snuffled in to hunt for more pancakes. Steve called for Melody to take care of him. Noon came and went. Cara complained of being hungry. Elizabeth pointed at the peanut butter. Suppertime appeared. Steve had a pizza delivered, ate his in two bites and told Melody to help Cara clear away the debris. Night came. Elizabeth stood and stretched and told the girls to do their homework. Steve took Melody home at nine so he could put her to bed.
Sunday was a repeat of Saturday. On Monday Elizabeth sent Cara off to school and ordered her not to get another detention—it was too dark after detention for the girls to walk to the train station, and neither she nor Steve could spare the time to pick them up.
Elizabeth planned her day as she headed for her office. The first order of business was to call all her customers to tell them she had an emergency. Then she rang up the IRS, got an appointment for Friday to review Steve’s file and delved into his mountain of records.
Steve showed up at nine-thirty with Sammy and a bag of bagels.
The only difference between Sunday and Monday for Elizabeth was that on Monday the school fed the girls lunch. Every night they ordered out—Chinese, pizza, Mexican, until even Cara was sick of restaurant food. The girls did the dishes, Sammy snuffled for food, Steve and Elizabeth worked until nine, Steve went home with Melody, and they repeated the entire process the next day.
On Thursday, Elizabeth told Steve they were ready, and on Friday, when they left for the IRS office, she felt confident that the problem could be resolved easily.
Steve himself was grim. “What if they still want the seventeen thousand?” he said.
“They won’t,” Elizabeth encouraged. She took his hand as they walked up the steps of the IRS building.
The door was one of those big, steel things with chicken wire between the glass.
“Looks like a minimum security facility,” said Steve.
“Don’t worry,” Elizabeth said, for the twelfth time.
The process took four hours and was conducted in a room without windows. Elizabeth was absorbed in the work; she didn’t notice. But to Steve, who was preternaturally aware of his environment, it was like being trapped in a well. Just as he thought he couldn’t stand any more, Elizabeth and the IRS agent stood and shook hands, and Elizabeth led Steve into the open air.
“Four thousand dollars,” Steve said.
“Could have been worse,” said Elizabeth. “Just write the check and forget it.”
“Four thousand dollars?” he said. “That’s food and clothes and two house payments.”
“Don’t fret,” said Elizabeth, sounding sympathetic. She’d piloted many clients over the tax shoals, and not one of them was ever satisfied. “I’ll buy you lunch.”
She had hardly thought about the girls all week.
* * *
On Saturday Cara
came down the stairs at ten-thirty, still in her pajamas.
Elizabeth met her with a smile.
“Feels good to sleep late, huh?” she asked, as Cara sat cross-legged in a chair.
“Yeah.”
“No detentions this week,” said Elizabeth, setting out cornflakes and milk. “Congratulations.”
Cara ate quietly, and all the while she eyed her mother with definite intention. What now? Elizabeth thought, sighing to herself. She sat across from Cara, waiting.
Finally Cara said, “Are Mr. Riker and Melody coming for supper again tonight?”
Elizabeth said they were.
“I hate Melody,” said Cara. “It makes me sick to watch her eat.”
“I’ll put you on the same side of the table, then,” said Elizabeth. “Give it up, Cara. It won’t work.”
“I really tried this week not to fight with Melody,” she said. “Just so I could show you. I won’t ever fight with her again, if you’ll just quit seeing Mr. Riker.”
“What?” said Elizabeth, startled. Whatever she’d expected, it wasn’t this.
“I hate her,” said Cara. “She’s horrible.”
“She’s no more horrible than you are,” said Elizabeth, with perfect truth.
Cara’s chin trembled and her big green eyes filled with tears. “I’m your own daughter,” she said. “I’d think you’d be on my side.”
“There’s only one side here, Cara,” said Elizabeth, who was thoroughly out of patience. “Our side. Yours and mine and Steve’s and Melody’s.”
“But I don’t want them here,” Cara said, weeping. “They’re over here all the time, and all we eat is pizza, and we have to do the dishes. I want to go back to the way we were before. Just tell them to stay away from us.”
“Cara, I don’t want them to stay away from us,” Elizabeth said. “I love Steve.”
“I hate him,” Cara sobbed.
“Why do you hate him, Cara? He’s always been so nice to you.”
“He doesn’t care anything about me,” said Cara, “and besides, I have a father. Daddy says he loves you. I told you that. I don’t know why you don’t want him.”
“I tried to explain, Cara,” said Elizabeth. “I know it’s hard for you to understand. But try.”
“I understand!” said Cara, wildly leaping from her chair. “You don’t love me! You only love Melody and Mr. Riker! Well, I’m going to live with Daddy. He said I could come anytime I want to, and I’m going!”
Elizabeth took Cara’s shoulders and set her back down in the chair. “You may not do any such thing,” she said fiercely. “I want you to understand that. You are not going to live with your father. In the first place, even if he says he wants you, he does not have time to raise a child. In the second place, I will not let you go. In the third place, you are being extremely selfish, and I want it to stop right now. I don’t want to hear another word about it. Do you hear me? Now go and put on your clothes and get yourself back down here. We have work to do.”
* * *
The detentions started again, in earnest. Miss Westcott called on Thursday, distressed. Melody was a willing participant, but Cara had instigated every incident. And fist fights had resumed on the Lower School fields.
Elizabeth was furious. Cara was obdurate. Steve and Melody continued to come for dinner. Cara was made to sit at the table, but she stared at her plate and wouldn’t eat and wouldn’t speak. When she was excused, she went to her room.
“It’s driving me crazy,” Elizabeth told Steve, when they were alone.
“I can tell,” he said. It was driving him crazy, too, and breaking his heart to see Elizabeth so distraught.
She clung to him. “I love you so dearly,” she said. She sounded forlorn. “How could I live without you?”
Steve raised her chin and looked into the unhappy green eyes.
“Are you thinking about living without me?” he asked quietly, though there was a thick web of fear inside him that blackened his vision and blocked his throat.
“I’m thinking about how I can manage to live with a life full of hostility,” she said. Her eyes filled and overflowed and she couldn’t stop the tears. “Steve, be honest. Do you still think we can work this out?”
And honestly, he said, “I don’t know, darling. I wish I did.”
“It’s Robert,” she said, beginning to cry. “I’ve tried to explain to Cara. I really have, Steve. I told her he was unfaithful, that he had girlfriends, even when we were married, that he lies to me and to her. She doesn’t believe any of it. I don’t know what else to do.”
He pulled his handkerchief out of his back pocket and wiped her face. She stood passively, like a child, while he attended to her.
“And the worst part—” Elizabeth gulped as he wiped the tears away “—is that Cara’s so unhappy. She’s not doing this just to be unreasonable.”
“I know,” said Steve.
“And Steve, she’s losing weight, and she’s so skinny, anyway,” said Elizabeth, sobbing into his shirt. “She can’t afford to lose weight. I have to do something about it.”
Steve gathered her close and buried his face in her fragrant hair. He knew as he faced his Armageddon, that when he let her go, he would be letting her go forever. The only thing he could do to help her was to make the separation easier for her.
“Maybe we ought to quit seeing each other until things settle down a bit,” he said gently. “We’ll give it a few weeks and see what happens.”
Kalik at work. A world destroyed.
She clutched at him. “I can’t bear it,” she said.
His face was pale under his tan. He fought his silent struggle with great courage, to control his face and his voice, to protect her from his grief and longing.
“Kiss me now, darling,” he said, as sorrow consumed him. “Because the sooner I go, the sooner we can begin to mend.”
Walking away from her was the hardest thing he’d ever done.
* * *
Elizabeth took enough soup for two up to Cara’s room.
“Mr. Riker and Melody have gone,” she said.
Cara had been sleeping. She sat up on her bed.
“They’re not staying for dinner?”
“No,” said Elizabeth. “We thought it was better not to do that anymore.”
Cara sipped at the soup. “Oh,” was all she said.
Long days and long nights followed. Steve didn’t call, nor did Elizabeth call him. But she thought about him all the time. She ached with missing him. His absence was a wound to her heart that would never be healed. She could taste him on her lips, feel his body under her hands, hear his voice in her ears when she woke and when she slept. By day she longed for his companionship. By night she wondered how she could possibly endure a lifetime of sexual deprivation. With Cara she was able to maintain a cheerful face. When she was alone she wept.
The week before Christmas vacation, she sat in her office, unable to work.
I have to pull myself together, she thought anxiously, as tears formed relentlessly and washed down her cheeks. If I don’t, we’ll starve. She hadn’t been able to accomplish anything except the most repetitive and uncomplicated of tasks in almost three weeks. And Christmas was coming. She had bought no presents, hadn’t sent her mother’s box yet, hadn’t even considered where she and Cara were going or what they were going to do. Perhaps they should fly to France. She didn’t think she could stand to be in Philadelphia. Yes. France. She buried her face in her hands and sagged against her desk.
A rustling made her look up. Cara stood in the door. Elizabeth hastily brushed the tears away and tried to smile.
“Mommy?” said Cara uncertainly.
Cara seldom ever called her Mommy anymore. It was a little girl’s habit.
“You’re home awfully soon,” said Elizabeth, getting out of her chair.
“Just the usual time.” Cara went to the window and looked out and didn’t speak for several minutes.
“Is something bother
ing you, cherub?” asked Elizabeth.
Cara turned her big green eyes up to her mother. They were full of trouble.
“Do you love Mr. Riker?” she asked.
Oh, God. How could she talk about Steve without crying? Elizabeth leaned against the door frame to steady herself. “Yes.”
“Are you still getting married?”
“No, Cara,” said Elizabeth. “We talked about this, remember?”
“Why not?”
“Because, darling, all four of us have to agree,” Elizabeth said. “It’s a four-person decision.”
Cara leaned her palms on the sash and gazed out at the bare trees.
“But you’re not happy.”
“Do you remember when I told you that unhappiness and disappointment are part of life?”
Cara nodded.
“It’s true of grown-ups as well as children. There are some things you can’t have, no matter how bad you want them. You have to live with it. It happens to everyone. Now...” she said briskly. “Let’s go out and get some dinner. What would you like, pizza?”
They had eaten out every night. Elizabeth couldn’t face the memories in the kitchen.
* * *
Another sleepless night gave way to another weary morning. Elizabeth intended to go to McNulty’s plant, just to get herself out of the house. Seeing McNulty, all pleased with his box works and his software application would lift her spirits. She dropped Cara off at the train on the way.
“That backpack is going to split its seams,” she said to Cara, seeing how stuffed it was.
“No, it’s not,” said Cara. She leaned over the seat and hugged her mother fiercely. “I love you, Mommy,” she said. “I love you a really lots.”
“I love you a really lots, too, pet,” said Elizabeth, smiling. “Have a nice day.”
Cara stood among the milling students, waving, until Elizabeth drove away.
Edward McNulty was in buoyant spirits. His expanded company was acquiring new customers at an unprecedented rate—he could see his way to riches and an early retirement, and he felt he owed it all to Elizabeth and her brilliant software. He introduced her to his lawyer, to his wife and to his oldest son, and took them all to lunch at a small Italian restaurant with waiters in tuxedos and three-figure prices.