Bygones (2 page)

“Is he still working in that warehouse?”

“When he bothers.”

“Still smoking pot?”

“I think so,” Bess replied. “But he’s careful not to do it in the house. I told him if I ever smell it in there again, I’ll throw him out.”

“Maybe you should. Maybe that would straighten him up.”

“And then, maybe it wouldn’t. He’s my son, and I love him. If I give up on him, what hope will he have? He certainly never gets any guidance from his father.”

“What do you want me to do, Bess?” Michael spread his arms wide, the glass in one hand. “I’ve offered him the money to go to college-or trade school-but he doesn’t want anything to do with school. So what do you expect me to do?”

Bess glared at him. “I expect you to call him, take him out to dinner,
take
him hunting with you. Make him realize he still has a father who loves him and cares about what happens to him. Our son is a mess, Michael, and I can’t straighten him out alone.”

Their eyes met and held, each of them aware that their divorce had been the blow from which Randy had never recovered. Until age thirteen, he had been a happy kid, a good student, a willing helper around the house. From the day they’d told him they were getting a divorce, he had changed. He had become withdrawn, uncommunicative - both in school and at home. He stopped bringing his friends home, and eventually found new ones, who wore weird hairdos and army jackets. He lay on his bed listening to rap music through his headphones, and began coming home at two in the morning with his pupils dilated. He ran away from home when Bess tried to ground him, and graduated from high school with the lowest grade point average allowable.

No, their marriage was certainly not their only failure.

For your information,” Michael said, “I have called him. He called me an
sddo.b
.
and
hung up.”

Michael tipped forward, propping his elbows on his knees. “I know he’s messed up, Bess, and we did it to him, didn’t we?” He looked over at her. On the stereo the Eagles switched to “
Lyin
” Eyes.”

“Not we.
You.
He’s never gotten over you leaving your family for another woman.”

“That’s right, blame it all on me, just like you always did. What about
you leaving
your family to go to college?”

“You still begrudge me that, don’t you, Michael? And you still can’t believe I actually became a successful interior designer.”

Michael leaped to his feet and pointed a finger at her from the far side of the coffee table. “You got custody of the kids because you wanted it, but afterwards you were so busy at that store of yours that you weren’t around to be their parent!”

“How would you know? You weren’t around, either!”

“Because you wouldn’t let me in the house!
My house! The house I loved just as much as you did!”

He jabbed a finger for emphasis. “Don’t tell me I wasn’t around. You’re the one who refused to speak to me, thereby setting an example for our son to follow. I was willing to be sensible for the kids’ sake, but no, you wanted to show me, didn’t you? You were going to take those kids and brainwash them and make them believe 1 was the only one in the wrong where our marriage was concerned, and don’t lie to me and say different, because I’ve talked to Lisa, and she’s told me some of the garbage you told her.”

“Like what?”

“Like our marriage broke up because I had an affair with Darla.”

“Well, didn’t it?”

He threw up his hands. “Bess, take off your blinders. Things had soured between us before I even met Darla.”

“If things soured between us, it was because equals.”

 
The apartment door opened. Bess clapped her mouth shut but the words of the abandoned argument still reverberated in the air as Lisa rounded the corner into the living room. Behind her came the young man whose picture stood on the piano.

Lisa said, “Hello, Mother. Hello, Dad.”

She hugged her father first. She was nearly his height, dark haired and pretty, with lovely brown eyes.

She went neat to hug Bess, saying, “Missed hugging you the first time around, Mom.”

Retreating from her mother’s arms, she said, “You both remember Mark Padgett, don’t you?”

“Mr. and Mrs. Curran,” Mark said, shaking hands with each of them. He had a shiny all-American face, naturally curly brown hair, and the brawn of a bodybuilder.

“Mark’s going to have supper with us. I hope you stirred the stroganoff, Mom.” Lisa headed jauntily for the kitchen and began filling a saucepan with water. Right behind her
came
Bess, snagging Lisa’s elbow and forcing her to do an about-face.

“Just what do you think you’re
doing!
” Bess demanded in a pinched whisper. “There’s a pint of sour cream in that refrigerator and you know it! You set us up!”

Lisa moved past her mother to the refrigerator.

“I certainly did. How’d it go?” she asked blithely, removing the carton of cream.

“Lisa Curran, your father and I are not a couple of twenty-year olds you can fix up on a blind date!”

“No, you’re not!” Lisa slammed down the carton and faced her mother, whispering angrily, “You’re forty years old, but you’re acting like a child! For six years you’ve refused to treat Dad civilly, even for your children’s sake. Well, I’m putting an end to that, if I have to humiliate you to do it. Tonight is important to me, and all I’m asking you to do is grow up, Mother!”

Bess, stunned into silence, stared at her daughter. From the countertop Lisa snagged a bag of egg noodles and stuffed it into Bess’s hands. “Would you please add these to the water while I finish the stroganoff: Then let’s go into the living room and join the men as if we all knew the meaning of gracious
manners.
”

When they entered the living room, it was clear that the men, seated on the sofa, had been doing their best at redeeming a sticky situation. Lisa picked up the plate from the coffee table.

“Daddy?
Mark?
Cheese, anyone?”

Bess stationed a kitchen chair clear across the room and sat down, full of indignation-and shame-at being reprimanded by her own daughter. Mark and Michael each spread a cracker with cheese; then Lisa carried the plate to Bess.

“Mother?” she said sweetly.

“No, thank you,” Bess snapped.

Lisa took a seat between the two men.

“Well . . .” she said brightly, glancing from Michael to Bess, “I haven’t seen either one of you since Christmas. What’s new?”

Somehow they managed to weather the next fifteen minutes, Bess trying to avoid Michael’s gaze. You might at least try for Lisa’s sake, he seemed to be admonishing.

They sat down to eat at seven fifteen, in the chairs Lisa indicated, her mother and dad opposite each other, so they could scarcely avoid exchanging glances across the candlelit table.

Setting out the four salads, Lisa requested, “Will you open the Perrier, Mark, while I get the hot foods?”

The older couple sat obediently while the younger one got the sparkling water, breadbasket, noodles, and stroganoff. Finally Lisa took her chair, while Mark made the rounds, pouring.

When the glasses were filled, and Mark, too, was seated, Lisa picked up her glass. “Here’s to a happier decade ahead.”

The glasses touched. Then Lisa began passing the serving bowls.

“
Mmm
. . . stroganoff.”
Michael was loading his plate.

“Yup,” Lisa replied.
“Mom’s recipe.
I figured since you’re living alone again, you’d appreciate a good home-cooked meal.”

Bess met Michael’s eyes, both parents grossly uncomfortable with Lisa’s transparent machinations. Then Bess dropped her gaze, conscious again of her disheveled hair and the spot on her jabot and the lack of fresh makeup. She still hated him, but that hate stemmed from a fiery pride, bruised at the moment. He had left her for someone ten years younger, who undoubtedly never appeared at social functions with her hair on end, her forehead shiny, or lunch on her jabot.

Michael tasted his food and said, “You’ve turned into a good little cook, Lisa.”

“She sure has,” put in Mark. “When I found out she could cook, I told my mother, “I think I’ve found the girl of my dreams.”

Three people at the table laughed, but Bess was
discomfitted
, recalling that one of the things Michael had criticized after she’d returned to college was her neglecting the chores she’d always done. Cooking was one of them. She had argued, “What about you? Why can’t you take over some of the household chores?” But Michael had stubbornly refused to learn. It was one of many small wedges that had insidiously opened a chasm between them.

“How about you, Mark?”
Bess asked. “Do you cook?”

Lisa answered. “Does
he
ever! His specialty is steak soup. He cubes up a big old slab of sirloin and browns it, and adds potatoes and carrots and- What else do you put in it, honey?”

Bess shot a glance at her daughter.
Honey?

“
Garlic,
and pearl barley to thicken it.”

Bess turned to Mark, the young man who was shaped like
Mount Rushmore
, whose neck was so big his collar button wouldn’t close. He thickened his steak soup with pearl barley?

Lisa grinned proudly at Mark. “He irons, too.”

“Irons?”
Michael repeated.

“My mother made me learn when I graduated from high school. She works, and she said she had no intention of doing my laundry until I was twenty-five. I’m actually going to make some woman
a
I pretty good housewife.” He and Lisa exchanged a
smile,
and Bess His, caught Michael adding it up, before he swept his uncertain glance back to her.

Lisa said, “We might as well tell them, Mark.” The two exchanged another smile.

“Mom, Dad . . .” With her eyes radiant, Lisa announced, “We’ve invited you here tonight to tell you that Mark and I are going to get married.”

I
In
almost comical unison, Bess and Michael set down their forks. They gaped at their daughter. They gaped at each other.

“Well,” Lisa said, “say something.”

Michael cleared his throat. “Well . . . my goodness.” He forced an uncertain smile.

“Daddy, aren’t you even going to congratulate us?”

“Well . . . yes . . . sure, of course. Congratulations, both of you.”

“Mother?”
Lisa’s eyes settled on Bess.

“Married?” Bess said disbelievingly. “But Lisa. . . We hardly know this young man. We had no idea you were serious about him.”

“Smile, Mother, and repeat after me.
Congratulations, Lisa and Mark.”

“Oh, dear.”
Bess turned from her daughter to her ex-husband.

“Bess,” Michael admonished quietly.

“Oh, I’m sorry.
Of course, congratulations, Lisa . . . and Mark.
But when did all this happen?”

“This weekend.
And we want to be married soon. In six weeks, as a matter of fact.”

“Six weeks!” Bess yelped. “What kind of wedding can you plan in six weeks? You can’t even find a church in six weeks.”

“We can if we’re married on a Friday night.”

“ Friday
night . . . oh, Lisa.”

“Now listen, both of you. Mark and I love each other, and we want to get married, but we want to do it the right way. We both want to have a real church wedding, so here’s what we’ve arranged. We can be married at Saint Mary’s on March second and have the reception at the
Riverwood
Club. We’re only going to have one attendant each-Mark’s sister has agreed to be one, and Randy the other. Randy even said he’ll cut his hair. And I’m pretty sure we can still find a photographer-having it on a Friday night, we’re finding out, makes last-minute arrangements pretty easy.

Well?”„

Bess felt beleaguered. “What about your dress?”

“That’s where I’ll need your cooperation.” A meaningful look passed between Lisa and Mark. “I want to wear yours, Mom.”

“Oh, Lisa.”
Bess let her face show clear dismay.

“Oh, Lisa, what?”

Michael spoke. “What your mother is trying to say is that she isn’t sure it’s appropriate under the circumstances, right, Bess?”

“Because you’re divorced?”
Lisa looked from one parent to the’ other. “I see nothing inappropriate about it at all. You were married once. You loved each other, and you had me, and you’re still my parents. Why shouldn’t I wear the dress?”

His “I leave that entirely to your mother.” Michael glanced at Bess, whose eyes were very troubled.

“Mother, please. We can do this without your cooperation, but
w’d
rather have it-from both of you.” Lisa included Michael in her earnest plea. “Arid as long as I’m laying out our plans, I may as well tell you the rest. I want to walk down the aisle between you. I want my mom and my dad both there, one on either side of me. But without . . . well, the tension. It’s the only wedding present I want from either one of you.”