The War of the Roses: The Children (19 page)

“Good God, Mother,” Victoria shouted. “They don't know what the hell you're talking about.”

“Oh yes they do,” Mrs. Stewart snapped. “Don't fool yourself.”

Emily's expression was one of total confusion. She began to cry hysterically. Victoria rushed to comfort her with an embrace. Michael sat stone-faced, lips pursed, his expression contemptuous, his reactions curiously unchildlike. She had the impression that Michael knew exactly what his grandmother had meant.

“Your father is evil,” Mrs. Stewart shouted.

“This is getting out of hand,” Victoria cried, tightening her embrace of Emily.

Michael looked at his mother with eyes blazing. Victoria saw in them something she had never seen before. Pure rage.

“I'm going to tell Dad about Gramma,” he shouted, then turning to Mrs. Stewart, “My dad is not an evil man.”

“He's not,” Emily cried, tears streaming down her cheeks.

“You're a very bad woman,” Michael blurted, still facing his grandmother.

“Don't you dare talk to your Gramma like that,” Victoria screamed, releasing Emily and slapping her son hard across his cheek, his skin quickly reddening with the imprint of her fingers.

Emily ran to her brother and clung to him screaming. “Mommy, stop it. Please.”

“I don't care what you tell your father, Michael,” Mrs. Stewart shouted. “What he can't change is the fact that I'm your grandmother. I don't care if he does despise me. I hate him, too.”

“Stop it. Stop it. Stop it,” Victoria said, reaching for her son, overwhelmed by contrition over what she had done.

“Please forgive me, Michael. Please. I didn't mean it. My God, what has got into us?” She kissed his reddened cheek. “Forgive me, my baby. Please.”

“He deserves it, Victoria,” Mrs. Stewart shouted. “Why are you coddling him?”

“I didn't do anything, Mom,” Michael said, caressing his mother's arm. “All we want is for you and Dad to love each other and stay together.”

“Fat chance,” Mrs. Stewart hissed, turning to her daughter. “We know where the source of all this trouble is coming from, don't we, Victoria?”

“I wish you would shut your mouth, Mother,” Victoria yelled. “Just shut up. Shut up. Please shut up.”

“Don't talk to me like that, Victoria.”

“I just don't want to hear any more,” Victoria snapped, fighting for control. She and her mother exchanged fiery glances.

“You've got a big problem here, Victoria,” Mrs. Stewart said, turning, and with obvious indignation leaving the room.

When her mother was gone, Victoria tightened her embrace on both children. Emily continued to sob.

“Please forgive me, kids. I don't know what got into me. I love you both so much.” She gently caressed Michael's cheek. “I'm so sorry, Michael,” she sighed. “Can you ever forgive me?”

Her plea for forgiveness seemed to have the desired effect. Both children kissed and hugged their mother and remained in her arms until they had all calmed down. After a while, she released the children and sent them upstairs.

On further reflection, although contrite and thoroughly ashamed of her outburst, she began to have second thoughts about her mother's revelation to the children. Despite the bad timing and acrimony, sooner or later they had to know. Maybe they did not understand what sexual infidelity meant, but surely they knew the meaning of disloyalty and betrayal. Perhaps her mother's mean-mindedness did serve a useful purpose after all.

This incident made it increasingly apparent that she and Josh were competing against each other for the love of their children. She didn't have any illusions about who was winning. Josh and Evie were indulging them with food. But that was only one manifestation of their technique. As the disciplining parent, she was playing the less-attractive role and suffering the consequences.

It was obvious that this “bird nesting” arrangement was not the solution she had hoped it would be. She had not foreseen that Josh could be so devious when it came to the children. Once again, she had been naïve in her assumptions. She was now convinced that Josh's cooperation in this venture had been a pose.

It was time, she decided, to take another tack, one more aggressive and considerably less trusting.

Josh got the call from Michael in his office. He sounded panicked and upset. It was late Friday and he would not be back at the house until Sunday.

“Mom knows about Aunt Evie,” Michael said almost in a whisper, as if he feared discovery.

“How did she find out?”

“Emily and I didn't tell her. She….” He hesitated. “She went to the school. I… I was giving away candy to the class.”

“That wasn't too smart, Michael.”

“I'm sorry, Dad.”

“What was her reaction?”

“Not good, Dad. She slapped me.”

“Oh my God. Emily, too? Did she?”

“Just me. Then she said she was sorry.”

It was out of character for Victoria to ever hit her children. In fact, she had railed against such disciplinary measures, and he had never lifted a hand to them in rebuke.

“And Dad….”

Again he could hear the hesitation in Michael's voice.

“What is it, son?”

“Gramma said bad things.”

Mrs. Stewart's sad face surfaced in his mind, bringing with it all the aura of her mean spirit. How did she get into the picture? The truth dawned on him with explosive force. His rage erupted.

“What is that monster doing in my house?” he screamed into the phone. He immediately regretted the outburst. Both Josh and Victoria had been scrupulous in not defaming Mrs. Stewart in front of the children and were extraordinarily tolerant of Victoria's love-hate attachment to her. His rage accelerated and he had to pause and take deep breaths to compose himself before he was able to speak again.

“Are you okay, Dad?” Michael asked.

“I'm fine, son. It's just… well never mind. Tell me what kind of things your grandmother said about me.”

It took Michael some seconds to get the words out.

“Bad things,” Michael said, his voice suddenly hoarse.

“Tell me, son,” Josh said.

“About laying with another woman. About betraying Mom.”

Josh was stunned. Then it occurred to him that she might not have spared Emily.

“Did Emily hear these things?”

“Yes, Dad. She made Emily cry.”

“Bitch,” Josh muttered, inflamed by the idea that this bitter woman, who had preached her hatred of men as a solemn cause could be let loose to spew her poison over his children.

“And this all happened today?”

“When we came home from school.”

“And now? What is it like now?”

“Mom and Gramma are making dinner.”

“And Emily?”

“She's standing right here.”

Emily took the phone.

“I love you, Daddy,” she said. He could hear the sadness in her voice. “Gramma said bad things.”

“I know, darling. I love you, too. But it's all going to be all right. Cross my heart. I promise.”

“Okay, Daddy.”

He was at a loss for words. What could one say to a nine-year-old who had just heard her father was a bad man?

“I'm not a bad man, sweetheart.”

“I know Daddy.”

“Honey, let me speak to Michael again.”

It was obvious that they were using a telephone extension out of earshot of his wife and Mrs. Stewart. Michael got on the phone again.

“Does Mom know you're talking to me?”

“No,” Michael said, but his reply seemed tentative. “But I did tell her I would tell you about Gramma.”

“And what did she say to that?”

“She was very angry.”

“Was Mom there when your grandmother said those bad things?”

“Yes.”

He felt as if a hot poker had been shoved into his guts. He began to shake.

“And she did nothing to stop her?”

“After… after she told Gramma to shut her mouth.”

“After?” he repeated calmly, understanding Michael's hidden message. Victoria had let it be said and her mother had been the instrument of the revelation.

“So Gramma has been there all along?”

“Yes, Dad.”

“And you didn't tell me?”

“It was like Aunt Evie, Dad. I didn't tell Mom about that, either.” Michael again paused in his explanation. “I know you don't like Gramma and I know Mom doesn't like Aunt Evie.”

“It's alright, son. I'm not blaming you. I understand.”

“Are you mad at me, Dad?”

“God no, Michael. And you did the right thing about telling me.”

“I figured that since Mom knew about Aunt Evie it was all right to tell about Gramma.”

“You shouldn't have been asked to bear that burden.” He wondered if his son understood what he meant. He was a fool not to understand that Victoria would reach out for her mother in a time of extreme stress.

“Do you believe your dad is a bad person, Michael?” he asked gently.

“You're my dad. Of course not.”

“But it's true that I did a bad thing to Mommy.” He felt a sob begin in his chest. Did he really understand what it meant to lay with another woman, he wondered? “But I do love her and am very sorry for what I did.”

“And you did promise you wouldn't do it anymore. Didn't you, Dad?”

Michael's comment did not surprise him. Josh was learning fast. Children could ferret out lies and misdeeds a lot better and faster than adults. He was also certain that they understood in some primitive but compelling form the “bad” things that Mrs. Stewart had said about him.

“Yes I did, son. I promised I wouldn't ever do it again.”

What he needed most of all was time to think this out. It was obvious to him that conditions had changed and the children were caught in a parental crossfire.

“I want you to promise me something, Michael.”

“Sure, Dad.”

“Be a good boy. Try not to make things worse than they are. When I come Sunday, we'll straighten everything out. And tell Emily to be a good girl.”

“I will, Dad… and Dad?”

“Yes?”

“Are you going to bring Aunt Evie?”

He felt caught short by the question and pondered it for a few moments.

“Of course, Michael. Aunt Evie will be there.”

***

As promised, the phone conversations with the children on both Friday and Saturday were short and deliberately routine. He had half-expected Victoria to call him at Evie's, but no calls came, which he interpreted as ominous. Victoria would not let the information about Evie's presence in the house during his two-week stay go unchallenged.

On the other hand, he was immersed in what he considered a far more serious dilemma. His mother-in-law was a menace. She was obviously bent on alienating him from his children at all costs and continuing her sick influence over Victoria. The irony was that Victoria knew her predilections, had fought them all her life, and yet was trapped in the relationship and unwilling or unable to sever it.

To keep the peace, he had tolerated the relationship. She was, after all, Victoria's mother. His feeling, heightened by the fact that he had lost his own mother at an early age, was that there was something sacred about the very idea of motherhood. He interpreted Victoria's attachment to her mother, however strained and neurotic, as a natural need.

Victoria had confided to him about the emotional meeting she had had with her father before he died. She had also explained that she could not find it in her heart to forgive him. It seemed to weigh on her heavily, although she had admitted that she could not summon up anything approaching her mother's hatred of him. In fact, all she had felt was pity. The poor man had married the wrong woman and it had obviously ruined his life.

With a great deal of trepidation, Josh drove the Lexus into the garage. Victoria, looking paler than when he had seen her last, met him in the hallway as he brought in his suitcases. Normally, her baggage would be packed and ready to load. There were no suitcases in sight.

“You're late,” she said.

“Traffic,” he replied.

Her annoyance was palpable, but he ignored it.

“I hope it was a good two weeks,” he said pleasantly.

She did not offer an answer. Instead she said:

“We have to talk.”

“About what?” he asked.

“The situation.”

“I thought things were going well,” he replied, offering what he hoped was a look of total innocence.

“Hardly,” Victoria said coldly.

“Where are the children?” he asked. Normally, they would be present to greet him. This was, indeed, an ominous sign.

“I sent them to the movies.” Victoria said coldly.

“Alone?”

“With my mother.”

He followed her to the den, where she moved to the bar and poured herself a stiff drink.

“You?” she asked.

He shook his head in the negative and she moved to one of the chairs. She took a deep sip of her drink. He was standing in the center of the room, waiting for her to make the opening comment.

“I can't trust you, Josh,” she said. “Aside from being an unfaithful bastard, you're a sneak, a liar, and a cheat. You've disappointed me in all respects. But the very worst thing you're guilty of is using our children as pawns in your little game. In my opinion, this alone would disqualify you as a fit father.”

He listened with his eyes averted. He had expected something of the sort, although the depth of her anger and the suddenness of her attack stunned him. It had caught him off guard.

“I think I will have that drink,” he said, pouring himself some scotch in a highball glass, then taking a deep swallow.

“You must think I'm a naïve fool,” she said, her lips tight, her look hard. “Tell me, Josh, when does the fat girl arrive? And don't look startled. I'm sure your little partner in the conspiracy has already informed you of my mother's presence when I'm in charge.”

“Makes us even, Victoria,” he said, inflamed by the derisive way she portrayed Michael.

“Hardly even. My mother obeyed my rules to the letter. Madame Obesity and you violated all of them. How could you, Josh? How could you possibly have allowed that to happen? She's made gluttons out of our children and it shows. Food is love, is it? I'm sure he told you what he did at school. I don't believe we've heard the end of this. It won't be like the other. This time I'm going to let the chips fall where they may.”

“What does that mean?”

“Never mind that,” she said, sipping her drink. “It is obvious that things can't go on the way they have been.”

“Quite obvious,” Josh said.

Victoria tossed off the rest of her drink. Anger and bitterness had transformed her. His affair with Angela had wounded her in a way he could not have imagined, and for that he was sorry. There was no way to rationalize that. She was on her way to becoming a harridan like her mother. But he forced himself to hold back much of his anger.

At that moment, he heard sounds coming from the front door and the voices of his children.

“Did he put up much of a fuss?” Mrs. Stewart said as she entered the den. When she saw Josh, she stopped in her tracks.

“Well, that answers that question,” she snapped just as the children came into the room and embraced their father.

“Where's Aunt Evie?” Emily asked.

“She'll be here soon,” Josh said.

“Children,” Victoria said. “Why don't you go upstairs? Dad and I have lots to talk about. Okay, kids?”

“Okay, Dad?” Michael asked his father.

“I've already given you permission, children,” Victoria said harshly.

He could feel Emily observe his reaction.

“Sure, kids. You go upstairs and watch TV. We'll talk later.”

The children exchanged confused glances with their parents and with each other, then turned and moved slowly out of the room. Josh was struck at that moment with the realization that the removal of the children from their proximity in no way hindered their knowledge of what was transpiring. They were deluding themselves if they believed that the children were not fully aware of the conflict going on in their home. In fact, he was beginning to believe that they were more highly active participants in their fate than he had imagined.

“There's no need for you to stay,” Josh said to his mother-in-law, who looked to Victoria for guidance. “This doesn't concern you.”

“You stay, Mother,” Victoria said. “He has no authority in this house. In fact, legally speaking, he has no ownership.”

“I have no intention of leaving,” Mrs. Stewart said with haughty disdain, glancing at her daughter who seemed to offer confirmation of her stand.

Victoria paced the room, turning finally and facing him.

“Really, Josh, your presence here is very disruptive. It does not bode well for an amicable settlement between us. You've caused enough difficulties already.”

“Difficulties? You and your mother are the culprits here. The children were perfectly happy during their stay with me.”

“Happy? You mean indulged.”

“I know what I mean.”

“I'd call the police if I were you, Victoria,” her mother said smugly. “He's trespassing.”

“Good idea,” Josh said. “Let them be the judge of who is really trespassing.”

“Well then….” She turned to her daughter. “Call it spousal abuse.”

“What role would you like to take, Victoria? Abuser or abusee?”

“You really should go, Josh,” Victoria said, apparently adopting a more conciliatory tone. “This entire discussion is counterproductive.”

By then, Josh had mentally dug in his heels. He was not, under any circumstances, going to leave the house. If Victoria sensed that, she showed no signs of retreating. Shrugging, she moved toward the bar and poured herself another drink.

“My daughter is right,” Mrs. Stewart said. “You're not needed here. Haven't you done enough to hurt this family? Tell you the truth, I knew this would happen someday. It was completely predictable.”