“I have to work.”
I clenched my jaw. “You could work closer to home.”
“I don't want to.”
“Finally, you've admitted it. You're happier away from home. Well, John Wayne, here's my schedule. Plan around it.”
I pulled a paper from the corkboard and plunked it on the table: First two weeks of July—Richmond, taking care of Merry after her operation. The kids would be at camp. Second two weeks of July—the Hamptons on Long Island with Raney and Grace, another of the Great Dames who owned a summer cottage on the shore.
“You have to be home those two weeks. I won't miss my annual summer escape with my girlfriends. I can take the kids to the Outer Banks or Myrtle Beach for the first couple of weeks of August.”
Long after we'd retired to our respective rooms, I lay propped in bed, my book unread on my lap. Unusual for me, because the book, the latest FBI Agent Pendergast installment from Douglas Preston and Lincoln Child, couldn't hold my interest.
My thoughts tumbled like wet socks in a runaway dryer.
What do I do about Merry? Was her coldness toward Whip at dinner another example of her changed personality? Is it a different manifestation of her self-absorption?
What if Whip takes the kids with him to Peru for six months? Shit, that won't work. I can't see Whip home schooling Alex, let alone Emilie. What if I demand to take the kids to New York? I could make that work.
With the kids with me in New York, I'd be home, but if Whip left Merry for several months, I didn't think his marriage would survive. Even worse, I didn't think Merry would survive. He'd be choosing his job over his wife. He already had. Had he always been like this?
CHAPTER TWENTY
I drove Merry to her final appointment with Dr. Hunter before her surgery because Whip was busy preparing for Peru. We picked Emilie up after swim class and headed to Chaminade.
When the nurse called Merry's name, we all got up. Merry introduced Emilie to Dr. Hunter. I frowned when he blocked the door.
“Mrs. Davis, wait in the outer office.”
“It's Mrs. Davies.”
“Yeah. Whatever. I'll speak to your daughter. Alone.”
“Why?” I thrust my chin outward.
“Because you two will be in my way. Besides, you have no say in Merry's decisions.”
“I thought everything was decided. At least that's what Whip told me.”
“It's up to Merry. Go back to the waiting room.”
I didn't like the way Dr. Hunter touched Emilie's face before he slammed the door. We returned to the waiting room to, well, wait.
Emilie wrinkled her nose. “What a creep. I thought doctors were supposed to be nice. I didn't like the way he looked at me.”
She pulled a novel from her backpack and settled down to read.
“Neither did I.”
Almost an hour later, Merry emerged with a computer printout in one hand. She smiled up at the doctor and walked into the waiting room.
“Well? What did he say?” I tossed last month's National Geographic aside.
“He can make me look twenty-one again, instead of thirty-five.”
I was stunned. If what Merry said was true, she'd look like a different person.
“Is this what you and Whip agreed on? That you'd look fifteen years younger? Since when did that matter?” I headed toward the elevator. My blood pressure rose.
“Dr. Hunter said he could change the shape of my eyes too. I'll look younger, more exotic, no longer the run-of-the-mill Riverbend Junior Leaguer.”
“What's wrong with the way you used to look? You were beautiful, Mom.” Emilie leaned against me.
“Now I'll be better.” Merry folded the printout, but Emilie snatched it.
“Who's that?”
“The new me.”
I looked over Emilie's shoulder.
“The new you? What about the old you? The you we all love? The you Whip married?” I became more and more upset. My cheeks burned.
“Dr. Hunter's going to make some small changes here and there. I'll be almost the way I was, just better.”
“These aren't small changes; it's a total transformation. Whip won't like it. Nor will Alex.” I returned the paper.
Merry folded it in quarters and tucked it into her purse.
“Em's already cast her vote.”
“You'll look like a stranger.” Emilie turned her back on her mother.
“You'd better have a long talk with Whip. You guys should decide this together.”
“It's my face. I can do with it as I please. Besides, Dr. Hunter said Whip will love the new me.”
“How does he know? Is he clairvoyant? He met Whip, what, twice? Does he know him well enough to make such a statement?”
“Get off my goddamned back.” Merry climbed into the passenger seat of the Infiniti. I looked at Emilie in the rearview mirror; she just rolled her eyes and shrugged. I noticed a bead of sweat on her upper lip.
I maneuvered onto I-95 and headed home. It'd take us almost an hour to reach Riverbend without traffic, but we'd been in the doctor's office so long we hit an early rush hour backup. I swore under my breath. The cars ahead of us were at a virtual dead stop.
Since we had time on our hands and Merry was captive, I grilled her. The more questions I asked, the vaguer her answers became. When she said it was up to Dr. Hunter to decide what to do and when, I lost it.
“Why are you so mad?”
“Because you don't know what all he's going to do. You don't know in what order. You don't know how long you'll have to recuperate between procedures.” More accusations stuck to the roof of my mouth. I honked when a Lexus cut me off. “You have no idea how long it's going to take from beginning to end.”
“It's none of your business.”
“That's not true. Until I go home, it's very much my business. Talk to Whip. You're going against his wishes.”
“I will. Just shut up.”
I didn't know who I wanted to flip off more, Merry or the stupid man in the silver Lexus. He was talking on his cell and holding a cigarette. Does he have a third hand?
“I want to look perfect. I'm going to be perfect. Nothing you say will make me change my mind.” Merry stared out the window.
“I don't like him,” Emilie chimed in. “He's fangy and creeps me out.”
Merry slipped a pill into her mouth. She closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the seat. I'd lost her again.
I delivered Alex to the bus for computer camp on the first and spent over twelve hours driving Emilie to yoga camp outside of Asheville, North Carolina. On the way home, I couldn't get Merry's desire to look twenty-one again out of my mind. Lord knew, that was all she talked about.
Now the three of us sat in chairs along the James, waiting for the annual fireworks show to begin.
“I don't want to come home and find a stranger. I want to come home to my wife.”
Merry turned away from Whip. “I want to be twenty-one again.”
Be? Not look? Where had that come from?
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
One night, about two weeks after Merry's first surgery, I lay in bed engrossed in a hair-raising Michael Connelly murder mystery when someone tapped on my bedroom door.
“Yes?”
“It's me,” Emilie whispered. “Sorry to interrupt your reading.”
“Come in, dear child.” I shifted my pillows higher and motioned for her to climb in on the other side of the bed. “Why are you awake so late?”
Emilie pushed and plumped pillows until she found the right mix. She wriggled into the pile and pulled the coverlet up.
“I don't feel right.”
I placed a hand on her forehead. Cool. No fever. “Do you feel ill?”
“No. It's Mom. She's all wrong inside.”
“How?”
“Well, since Mom woke up from the coma, she's been all wrong.”
I knew both kids resented being shut out.
“Help me understand. Y
ou ‘feel’ things I don't. Tell me what it's like so I can get it.”
I put an arm around Emilie and tried to snuggle, but her shoulders were rigid. I massaged her neck to see if I could get her to relax. It didn't work.
“I'll try.” She took a deep, calming breath, something she learned at her yoga retreat. “Okay, before the accident, Mom was like all happy and bright from the inside out. Now, she's dark. Since she met that creepy guy and had her operation, she's started to get bright again.”
“Creepy guy?”
“You know, the yucky surgeon.”
I had no flipping clue what Emilie meant. I was in the farthest reaches of the twilight zone. One thing I got, though. Whatever it was, it was very, very real to her.
“How long has this been going on, Em?” I hugged her for strength. For me as much as for her.
“Kinda like my whole life. It's getting stronger as I get older.”
My thumbs tried to make a dent in her shoulders. “Have you always been able to feel your mom's moods?”
Emilie rolled her eyes.
“Du-uh. I feel everybody's moods. Not just Mom's.”
“You feel mine?”
“It's not mind reading or anything like that.”
Didn't she just read my mind? “What's it like, then?”
“Well, some people can see auras around people, but I don't. I feel colors inside people.” Emilie pushed herself up and propped both elbows on her knees. “It's like this. Mom's old center color was yellow.”
“Yellow's good?” Nothing like drowning in the unknown.
“Yes.” She waved her hands like I was an annoying gnat. To Emilie, the answers must be obvious. “Yellow's happy. When things happen, the outside edge colors change, depending on someone's mood. Darker colors mean mad or scared, lighter mean happy or comfortable.”
“Does Mom have a different color now?”
“Kinda. It's still yellow but it's like so much darker. She's no longer happy. She's scared. Do you get it now?”
Oddly enough, I did. “What about your dad?”
“Dad's blue, very calm and controlled.”
“That's funny. I've always thought your dad was like Paul Newman in Cool Hand Luke.”
Emilie giggled. “That's, like, so perfect.”
“What about me?” In for a minute, in for a mile. Might as well know what she thought of me.
“Pinky-orange.”
“That's a different happy from the way Mom was?”
“You bet. You're more like Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman—goofy but super nice.”
Julia Roberts? No way. Lauren Bacall in To Have and Have Not maybe. This child needed exposure to the classic films. It'd be fun to see if she liked Casablanca.
“So that's what you meant the other day when you said I was pinky-orange again.”
“Yup.”
“And Alex?”
Emilie giggled again. “What's that thing called? You know, that old-fashioned tube you look into and turn?”
“A kaleidoscope?” Alex as a toy with ever-shifting colors was perfect.
“That's it. Alex's center is blue like Dad's, but his outer colors constantly change. He bounces all over the place.”
“Back to your mom. She's not getting better, is she?”
“No.” Emilie leaned against my shoulder. A tear fell on my pajama top. “She's kinda scared, unhappy. She's not warm and bright anymore.”
She wiped her eyes on the back of her hand. “She's only happy when she thinks about her face. I wish she'd be happy when she thinks about me. I miss Mom.”
“So do I, dear child. So do I.”
I wanted my daughter back so badly I could spit. I even missed fighting with her. Was this the way it was going to be, just drifting along? Or would we work through this and emerge in a better place? I didn't want to say it, but I had serious doubts about healing my relationship with my daughter. I was scared shitless she wouldn't get back anywhere close to where she was before the accident.
I had to do better with Emilie. It was part of my doo-wop.
“Mom'll never be what she was. Even when she's bright, it doesn't include Alex and me anymore.” More tears. “She doesn't love us. We're like leftovers.”
“She's been through a difficult time.”
“So have we, but she's never ignored a birthday. Alex turns eleven in two weeks. I thought she'd plan something.”
I'd asked Merry about Alex's birthday, but she had “plans.” Those plans, which should have focused on her son, didn't include him.
“If your mom won't come, we'll have a great party without her. I'll make sure Dad's home. We'll have a pool party.”
“It won't be the same.” Emilie sniffed and wiped her nose on the tissue I offered.
“You're right. It won't.” I wouldn't fill her head with false hope.
“I don't know how else to say it, but it's like Mom's not there any longer. She's turning into someone else.”
I bit my lip. I wanted to cry and laugh at the same time. Cry because my daughter was causing her daughter so much pain. Laugh because I saw aliens stealing her personality.
“Don't worry. There are no pods growing in the backyard.” I hugged her until she grunted.
“I know. I looked. No Invasion of the Body Snatchers, but something or someone has snatched her.”
“Indeed.”
“Don't leave us, Mad Max.” Emilie pulled away to stare at me. “We need you so much.”
“I'm not going anywhere until we get your mom back.”
“She's not coming back,” Emilie whispered as she burrowed into the stack of pillows.
As I feared, Merry was a no-show at Alex's birthday party. I plopped in a chaise by the pool and sipped a gin and tonic, light on the gin, heavy on the tonic and ice. The party was over, and I stared at its detritus. Alex invited a dozen boys and girls to the pool party. For once, the weather cooperated.
My head pounded from the shrieks that echoed around the pool all afternoon. The kids had water fights, a water polo match, and swim races, and played blindfolded Marco Polo and dunk-the-girls-off-the-raft contests. I ordered pizza and sub sandwiches. Adults lounged around the edge of the pool or on the covered patio, each keeping a sharp eye on the high jinks. Too much roughhousing earned a kid a time-out.
After four hours in the sun, the party wound down. We ate cake. Alex opened his gifts and, with some prompting from Whip, thanked everyone for coming. The guests drifted away. Alex and Whip went upstairs to try out a couple of new PlayStation games. Emilie was off to her girlfriend Molly's house for a sleepover. As for Merry, she had buried herself in her room with a bottle of vodka before the party began, and never came out.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
“Why don't you send Johnny to Peru?”
“I can't. If I don't get away for a while, I'll lose my mind.”
“You're a damned coward, Whip Pugh. Em was right. You're running away.”
“I'm all torn up about this, Max. Know I should stay with Merry and the kids, but I can't. Can't watch her deteriorate.”
“We've been over this before. Merry needs you.”
“Maybe my being away will snap her back to where she was before the accident.”
“Maybe pigs really do fly.” I didn't see a single chance in hell of either happening.
Whip spent two days with Alex and Emilie before leaving. They went to Kings Dominion where they rode rollercoasters until they were sick to their stomachs. After a day at the theme park, they went to Morton's Steakhouse for dinner. Emilie told me later her dad asked a lot of questions about their mother. Even when he was in town, he wasn't in the house much. He didn't see firsthand how troubled their lives were.
“I unloaded on him. He knows about how much Mom's pushed us out of her life.”
“I'm glad you did. Your father needs to hear from you guys, not just from me.”
“So after that, me and Alex—”
“Alex and I.”
“Alex
and I gave Dad a list of stuff we wanted.” Emilie handed me a piece of paper. I read it and tried not to laugh. I also tried not to cry. When did these kids get so wise?
Mad Max has to stay until we say she can leave.
Dad has to set up a schedule for when he'll come home and for how long he'll stay.
Dad has to call home every other night and talk with each of them.
Emilie can go out on supervised group dates and have her curfew set at 11 instead of 10 on a weekend.
Alex can continue with soccer, basketball and computer club.
Emilie can continue with swim league, field hockey, and her writing club.
Alex can play video games for a minimum of two hours each weekday and as much as he wants on the weekends.
Emilie can do whatever she wants with her hair.
At least once, Emilie and Alex want to visit Dad in Peru.
Not one mentioned Merry.
“Only nine?”
“Well, there are two more. We told Dad he shouldn't tell Alex to be the man of the house or me to take care of Mom.”
I got it. Alex, a newly-minted eleven, needed to be the kid of the house. I could get down with that.
“Why shouldn't Dad ask you to take care of Mom?”
“I do enough of it already, and I want to do less. She's supposed to be taking care of me. I don't want to be a parent. I want to be a teenager.”
“I get it. Dad accepted your ultimatums?”
“Not completely. Here's his list.”
It's okay with him for Mad Max to stay, but Mad Max has to agree.
He will set up a schedule for coming home as soon as he is settled in Peru.
He will call home every other night and talk with each of them, if they are home.
Emilie can go out on supervised group dates, if she keeps her grades up once school starts.
It's okay for Alex to continue with soccer, basketball, and computer club.
Ditto for Emilie with swim league, field hockey, and her writing club.
Emilie can do whatever she wants with her hair, but absolutely no tattoos or body piercing.
Mad Max: Unintended Consequences Page 9