Daddy (10 page)

For a moment, Oliver thought of telling him she was out, but there was no point hiding the truth from him.

He had to find out sometime. The odd thing was that he felt ashamed of it, as though he had failed to keep his wife, as though it were clearly all his fault. “She's gone, Dad.”

“Gone where?” His father looked blank. “Gone out?”

“No, gone back to school. To Harvard.”

“She left you?” George looked stunned. “When did that happen? She was here with you on Christmas …”It seemed impossible to comprehend, but he suddenly saw the sorrow in his son's eyes, and now he understood it. “Oh God, Ollie … I'm so sorry … When did all this come up?”

“She told me about three weeks ago. She enrolled in their master's program last fall, but I think there's more to it than that. She says she's coming back, but I'm not sure of that. I think she's kidding herself more than she's kidding us. I don't know what to believe yet. We'll have to wait and see what happens.”

“How are the children taking it?”

“On the surface, pretty well. I took them skiing last week, and it did us all a lot of good. That's why I didn't call you. She left the day after Christmas. But in reality, I think we're all still in shock. Mel blames it all on me, Sam has nightmares every night, and Benjamin seems to be handling it by hiding out with his friends day and night. Maybe I'm not sure I blame him. Maybe if that had happened to me at his age, I'd have done the same thing.” But the idea of his mother leaving them was inconceivable to both of them, and it brought their thoughts back to her, after Oliver's astounding revelation. “What are you going to do about Mom?”

“I'm not sure what I can do. They said that at the rate she's going, she could degenerate pretty rapidly. Eventually, she won't recognize anyone, she won't know me.” His eyes filled with tears again, he couldn't bear to think of it. He felt as though he were losing her day by day, and the thought of it made him feel all the more sharply Oliver's pain over losing Sarah. But he was young enough, he'd find someone else one day. Phyllis was the only woman George had ever loved, and after forty-seven years he couldn't bear the thought of losing her. He took out a linen handkerchief, blew his nose, and took a deep breath as he went on again. “They said it could take six months or a year, or a lot less, before she's in a totally removed state. They just don't know. But they think it will be hard to keep her at home once that happens. I don't know what to do …” His voice quavered and Oliver's heart went out to him. He reached out and took his hand. It was hard for him to believe they were talking about his own mother, the woman who had always been so intelligent and strong, and now she was forgetting everything she had ever known and breaking his father's heart in the process.

“You can't let yourself get too overwrought about this, or it'll make you sick too.”

“That's what Margaret says. She's the neighbor I told you about. She's always been very good to us. Her husband suffered from Alzheimer's for years, and she finally had to put him in a home. She had two heart attacks herself, and she couldn't take care of him herself anymore. He was like that for six years, and he finally passed away last August.” He looked miserably at his son. “Ollie … I can't stand the thought of losing her … of her not remembering anything … it's like watching her fade away bit by bit, and she's so difficult now. And she was always so good-natured.”

“I thought she seemed a little agitated on Christmas Day, but I didn't realize anything like this was happening. I was too wrapped up in my own problems, I guess. What can I do to help?” It was hideous, he was losing his mother and his wife, and his daughter would hardly speak to him. The women in his life were fading fast, but he had to think of his father now, and not himself. “What can I do for you, Dad?”

“Just be there, I guess.” The two men's eyes met and held, and Oliver felt a closeness to him he hadn't felt in years.

“I love you, Dad.” He wasn't ashamed to say it now, although years before, the words might have embarrassed his father. When Oliver was young, his father had been very stern. But he had softened over the years, and he needed his son desperately now, more than he'd ever needed anyone.

“I love you too, Son.” They were both crying openly, and George blew his nose again, as Oliver heard the front door open and close quietly, and he turned to see Benjamin walking swiftly up the stairs and he called out to him.

“Not so fast, young man. Where've you been until eleven-thirty at night on a weekday?”

Benjamin turned, looking flushed from the cold and embarrassment, and then he looked surprised to see his grandfather sitting there. “Out with friends … sorry, Dad. I didn't think you'd mind. Hi, Grampa, what are you doing here? Something wrong?”

“Your grandmother's not well.” Oliver was suddenly stern, and feeling strong again. His father's warmth seemed to give him new strength, at least someone still cared about him. And his father needed him, and so did the kids, even if Sarah didn't need him anymore. “And you know damn well you're not allowed to go out on a school night. You pull that again and you're grounded for two weeks. Got that, mister?”

“Okay, okay … I told you I was sorry.” Oliver nodded. The boy looked odd. Not drunk or stoned, but as though there was something different about him suddenly. He seemed more of a man, and he didn't seem inclined to argue. “What's wrong with Grandma?”

His grandfather looked up unhappily, and Oliver spoke up quickly for him. “Your grandmother's been having some problems.”

“Will she be okay?” Benjamin looked suddenly young and very frightened. It was as though Tie couldn't bear the thought of losing anyone else. He looked worriedly at the two men, and Oliver patted his shoulder. “She'll be okay. Your grandpa needs some support, that's all. Maybe you can find some spare time for him, away from all those friends that are so appealing.”

“Sure, Grampa. I'll come over and visit this weekend.” The boy was fond of him, and George Watson was crazy about his grandchildren. Sometimes Oliver thought he liked them better than he had his only son. He was mellower now and better able to enjoy them.

“Your grandmother and I would like that.” He stood up, feeling tired and old, and touched the boy's arm, as though it might restore some youth to him. “Thank you both. I'd better be getting home now. Mrs. Porter will be wanting to get home. I left your grandmother with her.” He walked slowly to the front door, with Benjamin and Oliver following.

“Will you be all right, Dad?” Oliver wondered if he should drive him home, but his father insisted that he preferred his independence. “Call when you get home then.”

“Don't be foolish!” George snapped. “I'm fine. It's your mother who's not well.” But his face softened again then, and he hugged Oliver to him. “Thank you, Son … for everything … and … I'm sorry about …”He glanced at Benjamin, and his look took them both in. “… about Sarah. Call if you need anything. When your mother's feeling a little better, maybe Sam could come over and spend a weekend.” But it didn't sound as though she was going to be getting any better.

Both men watched George drive away, and Oliver sighed as he closed the front door. Nothing was simple anymore. For anyone. It was sobering to think about the problem with his mother. He turned to look at Benjamin then, wondering what was going on in his life that he wasn't sharing.

“So where are you going these days when you're out till all hours?” He eyed him carefully as they turned out the lights and headed upstairs.

“Just out with friends. Same old crowd.” But something in the way he moved his mouth told Ollie he was lying.

“I wish I thought you were telling me the truth.”

Benjamin gave a start and turned to look at him. “What makes you say that?”

“It's a girl, isn't it?” Oliver was smarter than he knew, and Benjamin looked away with an odd smile that said it all.

“Maybe it is. It's no big deal.” But it was. A very big deal. His first affair, and he was crazy about her. They were spending every minute they could in bed. Her parents were out all the time. Both her parents worked, and they seemed to go out a lot, and she was the last child at home, so they had plenty of free time to themselves, and they knew exactly what to do with it. Sandra was his first big love. She was a pretty girl from his school. They were in the same chemistry class, and he was helping her pass it. She was on academic probation all the time, unlike him, and she didn't really care. She was a lot more interested in him, and he loved the way her body felt when he touched her. He loved everything about her.

“Why don't you bring her around sometime? Does Mel know her too? I'd like to meet her.”

“Yeah … maybe … sometime… G'night, Dad.” He disappeared swiftly into his room, and Oliver smiled to himself as he walked into his bedroom, and saw Sam, just as the telephone started ringing. He hurried into the bathroom with it, with the long cord Sarah had had installed so she could talk on the phone while she was in the tub, and in a hushed voice he answered. He thought that maybe it would be his father. But his heart stopped. It was Sarah.

“Hello?”

“Is that you?”

“Yes.” A long pause while he tried to regain his composure. “How are you, Sarah?”

“I'm fine. I found an apartment today. How are the kids?”

“Holding up.” He listened, aching for her, and then suddenly hating her again for leaving. “It hasn't been easy for them.” She ignored the remark.

“How was skiing?”

“Fine. The kids had a good time.” But it wasn't the same without you … he wanted to say the words to her, but he didn't. Instead, he said the one thing that he had promised himself he wouldn't. “When are you coming home for the weekend?”

“I just left a week ago.” Gone, the promise to return every weekend. He had known it would be like this, but she had so ardently denied it. And now she suddenly sounded so callous and so different. It was hard to believe she had actually cried with him before she left. Now she sounded like a casual acquaintance, calling to say hi, instead of his wife of eighteen years, having just moved to a hotel near Boston. “I thought we ought to give everyone time to adjust. After last week, I think we all need a breather.” That was why she had left them in the first place, for a “breather.”

“And how long will that be?” He hated himself for pressing her, but he found that he couldn't help it. “A week? A month? A year? I think the children need to see you.”

“I need to see them too. But I think we ought to give it a few weeks, give them a chance to settle down.”
And what about me?
He wanted to shout the words at her, but he didn't.

“They miss you a lot.” And so did he.

“I miss them too.” She sounded uncomfortable, as though she were anxious to get off. She couldn't stand the guilt of talking to him. “I just wanted to give you the address of my new apartment. I'll move in on Saturday, and as soon as I have a phone, I'll call you.”

“And in the meantime? What if there's an emergency with the children?” The very mention of it panicked him, but he had a right to know where she was. He needed to know, if only for his own sake.

“I don't know. You can leave a message for me at the hotel. And after that, I guess you could send a telegram to that address if you had to. It shouldn't take me long to get a phone in.”

The ice in his voice was only to hide the pain. “That sounds like a ridiculous arrangement.”

“It's the best I can do. Look, I've got to go.”

“Why? Is someone waiting for you?” He hated himself for saying that too, but as he listened to her, he was passionately jealous.

“Don't be ridiculous. It's late, that's all. Look, Ol … I miss you …” It was the cruelest thing she could have said. She didn't have to be there at all. She had gone by choice, she had torn his heart right through his guts, and now she dared to tell him she missed him.

“You've got a lot of gall, Sarah. I don't understand the game you're playing.”

“There's no game. You know exactly why I came here. I need to do this.”

“You also said you'd come home every weekend. You lied.”

“I didn't lie. But I've thought it over, and I just think it would be hard on everyone. You, me, the children.”

“This ridiculous sabbatical of yours is also hard on everyone, and what am I supposed to do while you're gone? Lock myself in the bathroom with
Playboy?”

“Ollie … don't … please … it's hard for both of us.” But it was her choice, not his.

“I didn't walk out on you. I never would have done this.”

“I had no choice.”

“You're full of shit. My mother was right years ago. You're selfish.”

“Let's not start that again. For chrissake, Ollie, it's after midnight.” And then, suddenly, she was curious, “Why are you whispering?” She had expected him to be in bed, but there was an echo as they talked.

“Sam's in our bed. I'm in the bathroom.”

“Is he sick?” She sounded suddenly concerned, and it only made him angry. What would she have done if he was? Fly home? Maybe he should tell her Sam was sick after all. But the truth was worse.

“He has nightmares every night. And he's been wetting his bed. He wanted to sleep with me tonight.”

There was a long silence as she envisioned them in what had only days ago been her bed, and then she spoke softly. “He's lucky to have you. Take care. I'll call you as soon as I get the phone.”

He wanted to say more to her, but it was obvious that she didn't. “Take care of yourself.” He wanted to tell her he still loved her, but he didn't say that either. She was kidding herself about everything, about coming back to them, about not being gone for good, about coming home for weekends and vacations. She had left them, that was the simple truth of it. She had walked out on all of them. And the worst of it was that he knew, no matter what, no matter why, no matter how, he would always love her.

Chapter 6

The first weeks without her were hard. And it seepied as though every morning breakfast was a disaster. The eggs were never quite right, the orange juice was too pulpy, the toast too dark or too light, and even Ollie's coffee tasted different to him. It was ridiculous, he knew. Aggie had been cooking for them for ten years, and they loved her, but they had grown used to Sarah's breakfasts. Sam seemed to whine all the time, more than once Ollie saw him kick the dog, Mel remained sullen throughout, and Benjamin no longer graced them with his presence. Instead he flew out the door, insisting that he never ate breakfast. And suddenly Oliver always seemed to be arguing with them. Mel wanted to go out
both
weekend nights, Benjamin was still coming home too late during the week, but claiming that he was studying with friends, and Sam was restless at night and always wound up in Ollie's bed, which was comforting at first, but after a while got on his nerves. The peaceful family they had been had vanished.

Sarah eventually called when she got her phone, two weeks later than promised, and she still hadn't come home to see them. She thought it was too soon, and now all their conversations were brief and bitter. And she seemed almost afraid of the kids, as though she couldn't bring herself to comfort them. She was keeping up the pretense that she would come home to them one day, smarter, better educated, and successful. But Ollie knew better. Overnight the marriage he had cherished for eighteen years had wound up in the trash. And it affected the way he saw everything, the house, the kids, their friends, even his clients at the office. He was angry at everyone, at her of course, and himself as well, secretly convinced, as Mel still was, that he had done something wrong, and it was his fault.

Their friends called and invited him out, word had gotten around slowly, once Aggie started driving Sarah's car pool. But he didn't want to see anyone. They were curious, and gossipy, and just too damn nosy. And in the midst of it all, George seemed to be calling night and day, with horrifying reports of Ollie's mother's backward progress. She was even more forgetful now, a danger to herself in some ways, and George was distraught and clinging to his son for comfort. But Ollie could barely keep his own life afloat. It was hard enough coping with the children. He thought of taking all of them to a shrink, but when he called Sam's teacher to talk about it, she insisted that everything they were feeling was normal. It was understandable that Sam was difficult and argumentative and whiny, his grades were suffering in school, and so were Mel's. And it was obvious that she still blamed her father for her mother's absence. The school psychologist said that was healthy too. She needed someone to blame it on, other than herself, and he was a convenient scapegoat. And it was equally normal that Benjamin would seek refuge with his friends, to escape the home that was now so different without her. It would all blow over in time, the experts said, they'd all adjust, but there were times when Ollie wondered if he would survive it.

He came home exhausted every night, drained by the day at work, to find the house disrupted, the children unhappy and fighting. His dinners were no longer edible, wrapped in tinfoil and kept in the oven too long. And when Sarah called, he wanted to throw the phone at the wall and scream. He didn't want to hear about her classes or why she wasn't coming home
again
this weekend. He wanted her to come back and sleep with him, love him, cook for him, and take charge of their children. Aggie was great, but what she could offer them fell far short of all the little special things provided by their mother.

He was sitting in his office one afternoon, staring out the window, at the rain and sleet that were typical of late January in New York, and wondering if she ever would come back. Right then, he'd have settled for a weekend. She'd been gone a month by then, and he was so lonely, he almost thought he couldn't stand it.

“There's a happy face … can I come in?” It was Daphne Hutchinson, an assistant vice-president of the firm, he'd known her for four years, and they were currently working together on a presentation for a new client. She was a good-looking woman with dark hair she wore pulled back tightly in a bun. She was well-dressed in a chic, European way, everything was very spare and neat about her. And she always wore a great scarf, an expensive pair of shoes, or a piece of discreet but handsome jewelry. He liked her, she was quick and smart, discreet, hardworking, and for whatever reason she had never been married. She was thirty-eight years old, and her interest in striking up a friendship with Oliver over the years had never been more than platonic. She had made it clear to everyone at the firm, from the first, that office romances weren't her style, and through thick and thin and some serious attempts, she had stuck by what she said at the beginning. Oliver respected her for that, and it made her easy to work with. “I've got some of the mock-ups for next week,” she was carrying a large portfolio, but she looked hesitant, “but you don't look much in the mood. Should I come back?” She had heard a rumor that Sarah had left, and she had seen the strain in his face for weeks, but they had never discussed it.

“That's okay, Daph, come on in. I guess now's as good a time as any.”

She was worried about him as she walked in. He seemed to have lost weight, his face was pale, and he looked desperately unhappy. She sat down and showed him the work, but he seemed unable to concentrate, and finally she suggested they forget it and offered him a cup of coffee. “Anything I can do? I may not look like much,” she said, grinning amiably, “but I've got tremendous shoulders.”

He smiled at her. She had great stature in many ways, and lots of style, and he almost forgot how tiny she was. She was a terrific woman, and once again he found himself wondering why she had never married. Too busy perhaps, or too wrapped up in her work. It happened to a lot of them, and then suddenly at forty they panicked. But she didn't look as though she was panicking. She seemed content and self-possessed, and her eyes were kind as he sat back in his chair with a sigh and shook his head. “I don't know, Daph … I guess you've heard …” His eyes bore into hers like two pools of green pain and she had to resist an urge to put her arms around him. “Sarah left last month to go back to school … in Boston …”

“That's not the end of the world, you know. I thought it was worse than that.” She had heard they were getting a divorce, but she didn't say that to Ollie.

“I think most likely it is worse than that, but she hasn't got the guts to admit it. We haven't seen her in almost five weeks, and the kids are going nuts on me. So am I. I go crazy every night trying to get out of here, and it's six or seven o'clock most nights. Eight before I get home, and by then everyone's out of control, my dinner's turned to sock, we yell at each other, they cry, and then it all starts again the next morning.”

“It doesn't sound like much fun. Why don't you take an apartment in New York for a while, at least you'd be closer to work, and the change might do the kids good.” He hadn't even thought about it, but he couldn't see the point of doing that now, putting them through the trauma of changing friends and schools. And he knew they all needed the comfort of familiar surroundings.

“I'm just barely managing to keep our heads above water, let alone think of moving.” He told her about Mel's fury at him, Benjamin's disappearing act, and Sam's wetting the bed on and off, and sleeping with him every night.

“You need a break, kid. Why don't you take them somewhere? Why don't you go to the Caribbean for a week, or Hawaii, someplace hot and sunny and happy?” Was there such a place? Would any of them ever be happy again? It seemed difficult to believe and he was faintly embarrassed to be dumping on her, but she didn't seem to mind it.

“I guess I keep hoping that if we stay right where we are, she'll come back, and we can turn the clock back.”

“It doesn't usually work like that.”

“Yeah.” He ran a tired hand through his hair. “I've noticed. I'm sorry to bore you with all this. It just gets to me sometimes. It makes it hard to concentrate on work. But at least it's nice to get out of the house. It's so depressing being there at night, and weekends are worse. It's as though we've all been smashed apart and don't know how to find each other anymore. It wasn't like that before. …” But now he could barely remember how it had been. It seemed as though they had been living through the agony of her absence for a lifetime.

“Can I do anything?” She'd never met his kids, but she would have been willing to. She had a lot of free time on her hands on the weekends. “I'll be happy to meet them sometime. Maybe it would do them good, or do you think they'd feel I was trying to grab you from their mother?”

“I'm not sure they'd even notice.” But they both knew that wasn't the case. He smiled at her, grateful for the sympathetic ear. “Maybe you could come out sometime for the day. It might be fun for all of us, when things settle down a little bit, if they ever do. My mother's been sick lately too. It's like when one thing goes wrong, everything falls apart all at once. Did you ever notice that?” He grinned the boyish smile that melted women's hearts and she laughed.

“Are you kidding? It's the story of my life. How's the dog?”

“The dog?” He looked surprised that she would ask. “Fine. Why?”

“Watch out for him. This'll be the time he'll develop distemper and bite fourteen of your neighbors.” They both laughed and he sighed again.

“I never thought anything like this would happen to us, Daph. She took me completely by surprise. I wasn't ready for this, and neither were the kids. I thought we had the perfect life.”

“It happens like that sometimes. People get sick, they die, things change, they suddenly fall in love with someone else, or do some other crazy thing like this. It's not fair, but that's the way it is. You just have to make the best of it, and one day you'll look back, and maybe you'll understand why it happened.”

“It was me, I guess.” He still believed that, it had to be. “Maybe she felt neglected, or ignored, or taken for granted.”

“Or stifled, or bored, or maybe she just wasn't such a great person after all.” She was closer to the truth than she knew, but Oliver wasn't ready to admit that. “Maybe she just wanted her own life for a change. It's hard to know the reasons why people do things. It must be even harder for your kids to understand.” She was a wise woman for her years, and Oliver remembered again how much he had always liked her, not in a flirtatious way, but she offered the sound, valuable stuff that solid friendships were made of. It had been years since he'd had a woman as a friend, not since he had married Sarah.

“If I don't understand it myself, it's not surprising that they don't. And she isn't helping matters by staying away. When she left, she promised to come home every weekend.”

“That's rough, too, but maybe this is better for all of you. By the time she comes back to visit, you'll all be more settled.” He laughed bitterly at the thought. It seemed an unlikely prospect.

“There is no such thing at our house. Everyone starts complaining at breakfast, and when I come home they're still at it, or they're not there at all, which is worse. I never realized the kids could be such a handful. They've always been so easy and so good, so well adjusted and happy. And now … I hardly recognize them when I go home at night, the complaints, the moodiness, the arguments, the whining. I can hardly wait to get back here.” And once in the office, he couldn't stand being there either. Maybe she was right. Maybe they should take another vacation.

“Don't let this become your life.” She said it with a knowing look in her eyes. “You pay a price for that too. Give her a chance, if she comes back, great. If she doesn't, get your life squared away. Your
real
life. Not this bullshit. It's no substitute for a real live person. I speak from experience. Believe me.”

“Is that why you never got married, Daphne?” Un- der the circumstances, it no longer seemed quite so rude to ask her.

“More or less. That and a few other complications. I swore to myself I'd build a career until I was thirty, and after that some other things happened to keep me occupied, and I took refuge in my work again. And then … well, it's a long story, but suffice it to say this is it for me. I love it, it works for me. But it's not much of a life for most folks. And you've got kids. You need more than just this in your life. Your kids will be gone one day, and that desk isn't much company after midnight.” Everyone knew that she stayed as late as ten o'clock some nights. But it was also why she made the best presentations. She worked like a dog on what she did, and she was brilliant at it.

“You're a wise woman.” He smiled at her and looked at his watch. “Think we should take another stab at that stuff you brought in?” It was almost five o'clock, and he was thinking about going home, but it was still a little bit too early.

“Why don't you go home early for a change? It might do your kids good, and you too. Take them out to dinner somewhere.”

He looked surprised by the idea, he had never even thought of it, he was so desperately clinging to their old routines. “That's a great idea. Thank you. You don't mind if we do that stuff again tomorrow?”

“Don't be silly. I'll have more to show you.” She got up and walked to the door, and looked over her shoulder at him. “Hang in there, kid. The storms may hit all at once, but the good news is they don't last forever.”

“You swear?”

She held up two fingers with a grin. “Scout's honor.”

She left and he dialed the house, and Agnes answered. “Hi, Aggie.” He felt happier than he had in days. “Don't bother to cook dinner tonight. I thought I'd come home and take the kids out.” He loved Daphne's idea, she really was one hell of a smart woman.

“Oh.” Agnes sounded as though he had taken her by surprise.

“Is something wrong?” Reality was beginning to hit him again. Nothing was easy now. Not even taking the kids out to dinner.

“Melissa is at rehearsal again, and Benjamin has basketball practice tonight. And Sam
is
in bed with a fever.”