Yule Tidings (14 page)

             
Jason wasn’t entirely sure how much worse the situation could get.  Not that Dad going to see Mom would make things better, but it was worth a try.  He wasn’t sure what to say.  He took a deep breath. “Dad, you probably should have stayed out of it,” Jason told him carefully.

             
“I just wanted to help, Jason.”

             
“I know, Dad.  But I’ll deal with it in my own way, on my own time.” Jason’s voice was hard and firm.

             
“She’s your mother, Jason.” Franklin said, slowly.  “You have every right to be angry and upset, but I hope you remember that she raised you.  She wasn’t always like this.  That’s my fault.”

             
“Dad, please don’t,” Jason said, almost in warning.  The last thing he needed was to fight with his father too.  It was bad enough his mother was being so difficult; he really didn’t want to add his Dad to the list.  Alex was upset with him because he planned on writing his mother off permanently.  She thought it was a bad idea, and that Anne would snap out of it eventually; they only had to wait.  Jason tried to explain to Alex that his mother wouldn’t just ‘snap out of it,’ but Alex maintained that they could hope.

             
“Alright, I won’t get involved any more.  I only tried to help because Alex called me, crying.  She’s worried about you, Jason.  She loves you and she doesn’t want you to ruin your relationship with your mother because of her.”

             
“It’s not because of Alex that my relationship with Mom is strained, Alex knows that.”  Jason didn’t like that Alex was upset enough that she called his father instead of talking to him about it.  She generally told him exactly what was on her mind and why.  Then again, he hadn’t really given her much of a chance to talk to him where his mother was concerned recently.  He didn’t want her to sway his decision, something he was sure he would regret doing later.  He was determined to be angry with his mother.  He doubted she was going to change, and he refused to allow her to be around his child unless she apologized, at the very least.   “Dad, I’m sorry but I’ve got to go.  I have someone waiting,” Jason said, peeking out the window of his office to the sitting room.  “Thanks for trying, I guess.”

             
“Okay.  Well, just let me know if there’s anything I can do,” Franklin offered before hanging up. 

             
Franklin looked at Donna.  “Should I have even bothered coming out here?” he asked, disappointed.  He’d hoped talking to Anne would have made some kind of difference.  In truth, he should have known better, but he couldn’t bring himself to believe that Anne was completely lost.

             
“Well, it was worth a try I guess, but I was pretty sure that you wouldn’t be able to get through to Anne.  She really needs to meet someone who will support her and encourage her and make her happy,” Donna told him reassuringly, patting his hand.

             
“Maybe.  But she’s so hard to get to know.”

             
“Franklin, it’s not your problem anymore.  I know it’s hard for you, because you think that you’re the one that caused her to act like this, but the fact is she was treating
you
this way for a long time before the divorce.  It would have seeped into her other relationships anyway.”  Donna had seen many changes in Anne in the years before and after the divorce.  Someone she had come to consider a good friend, Anne was a kind, giving person and Donna was grateful for her friendship and support.  When Franklin first started making passes at her, Donna was deeply offended for her friends’ sake, but as she watched Anne withdraw from her husband and friends more and more, she realized that Anne was changing into an angry, bitter person, and Franklin was overwhelmed with his inability to help her.

             
“I guess.  I just feel bad for the kids and grandkids.  They’re suffering.  Rose and Kelly never know what to expect from her.  Michael and Jason want nothing to do with her.  Brandon, well, he stays out of it and lets Rose handle it.  Alex is devastated, and Trisha, I don’t think she knows what to do with it all.”

             
“Well, we could try setting Anne up with someone, but I doubt it would go well.” Donna offered, none too excited.

             
“That’ll be the day,” Franklin snorted, starting the car before looking at Donna mischievously.  “She should just become a nun.”

Chapter Twelve

             
Anne left work early on Wednesday.  She was so upset after Franklin left that she couldn’t concentrate on her job.  She finished cleaning the masks, but she kept making mistakes while filing.  After an hour or two, she gave up completely.  She drove home, frustrated and hurt.  Franklin had no right to talk to her that way.  She was certain that Alexia was just after Jason’s money.  He was an architect/designer and made a very good living.  He was also a rather handsome young man, Anne admitted to herself.  That had to be what the hussy wanted.  She slammed into the house, throwing the mail on the table without a second glance.  She ignored the blinking light on her answering machine as she sat in front of the television. The idea that the two could actually be in love never even crossed Anne’s mind.  It just wasn’t a viable option.  She wasn’t even sure she believed in love anymore.  She thought Franklin loved her, and he’d left her for Donna.  It wouldn’t surprise Anne if Alex was just saying she loved Jason to give her brat a name.

             
Anne flipped through the channels.  She didn’t want to watch another sappy love story. 
Curly Top
was on, so she left it there while she fumed.  She couldn’t believe Franklin would be so insufferable; accusing her of wanting to cause Alexia to miscarry: that was low, even for him.  She picked up the phone.

             
“Hello, this is Dr. Martz’s office.  How can I help you?”

             
“Yeah, hi.  This is Anne Davis.  Is there a chance I can see Dr. Martz today?”

             
“Well, let me see,” Anne could hear paper shuffling over the phone. 

             
“If you can’t fit me in, that’s fine,” Anne said, slightly embarrassed.  She rarely went to see her counselor on short notice.  She kept her weekly appointment because her doctor and priest were strongly encouraging her to talk with someone about her problems, but she didn’t relish the thought of going more than expected.

             
“No, no.  There was a cancellation today.  I’m just looking for the time,” the woman paused.  “Here it is.  Can you come in for three-thirty?”

             
“Sure,” Anne said, looking at her watch.  She still had two and a half hours to kill before the cancellation, not an exciting prospect.

             
“Okay, I’ll write you in then,”

             
“Thanks,”

             
“No problem, Anne.  We’ll see you at three-thirty.”

             
“Yep, bye.”

             
“Goodbye,” the woman said cheerfully.

             
Anne walked into Dr. Lisa Martz’s office fifteen minutes early.  She’d been waiting in the parking lot, her car running, for the twenty minutes, before finally giving in to her urge to go inside.  She needed someone to talk to.  Dr. Martz was reasonable and listened to her.  The happy receptionist smiled at her as she sat down.  “It’ll be just a few minutes, Anne.”

             
“Okay,” Anne told her, picking up a magazine.  It was about the history of civilizations.  Anne didn’t bother reading the articles.  She flipped through the pictures, gazing at the Roman architecture.  Jason liked Roman architecture.  He was going to Europe to see the buildings first hand in another year or so.  At least he had planned on it.  Maybe that had changed.  Anne shook her head.  How could all this have happened without her realizing it?  How could so much have changed in such a short time?

             
The article sat unheeded in Anne’s lap as she looked around.  The waiting room was small, a few toys for children that came to see one of the other psychologists in Dr. Martz’s office, but mostly simply elegant.  The Victorian style chairs and dark auburn walls looked regal.  A well lit fish tank with brightly colored fish sat against one wall, bubbling endlessly.  A painting, a Van Gogh reprint that Anne couldn’t name, hung on the wall adjacent to the aquarium.  Dr. Martz’s office matched the waiting room, except the walls were a deep blue instead of auburn.  The furniture was equally expensive and tastefully elegant.  It was a room for adults, to make adults feel less childlike by confessing their problems.

             
“Dr. Martz will see you now, Anne.” The receptionist smiled politely and opened the door for her. 

             
“Thank you,” Anne said quietly as she walked past her down the hall to Dr. Martz’s office.  Anne always found it humiliating to come into the office.  She enjoyed talking with Dr. Martz, but the stigma of a counselor was still strong in Anne’s psyche.  She had old beliefs, despite her ‘new age’ lifestyle.  It was a thorn in her side that she was divorced.  If Franklin were dead it wouldn’t be so difficult for her, but he divorced her, and that was awful.  Being divorced was worse than being widowed.  Franklin left her willingly.  She was a failure as a wife.  She had always looked down on women who were divorced.  Unless they’d been in an abusive marriage, Anne felt they just didn’t bother trying.  She associated divorce so intensely with failure that when her divorce was finalized she nearly went mad.  If Trisha hadn’t needed her, she probably would have let herself die.

             
“Hello, Anne.” Dr. Lisa Martz was a tall, slender, blonde.  She had long hair, pulled back in a tight bun and searching blue eyes.  She smiled as she stood to greet Anne, gesturing to the settee opposite her chair.

             
“Hi,” Anne said, feeling foolish, as always.  It felt wrong going to a complete stranger to talk about things.  It would make more sense to talk to the people who were involved, but nobody seemed to want to hear her perspective on the situation.  She was tired of it herself. 

             
“It sounded urgent,”

             
“I just wanted to talk to someone,” Anne said, sitting down, nervously.  It always took her a few minutes to calm down and relax before she could open-up.  Something about walking through the doors to come into the back always unsettled her.

             
“What do you want to talk about?  What is going on in your life right now?”  Dr. Martz’s soothing voice took some of the ebb off Anne’s disquiet and anger.

             
“My son and my ex-husband.”

             
“Okay.  Well, we spend a great deal of time discussing Franklin, why don’t start by talking about your son?  Which son?” Dr. Martz asked gently, soothingly.  She could tell Anne was on edge.  Franklin was one of her worst topics. 

             
“Jason.  He’s the architect.  He wants to marry this girl.  She’s pregnant.”  Anne shook her head, “at least so they tell me.  I asked him how he knew it was his,” Anne told her.

             
“It seems to bother you that he plans on marrying this person.  Why is that?”

             
“She’s a hussy.  She isn’t even pretty.  Pregnant!  I think she’s just trying to trap my son.  She’s too skinny to be pregnant.”

             
“Why are you so upset about this girl?  Why does she bother you so much?”

             
“Jason deserves better than she can offer.  She looks like the girl next door, who occasionally works on the corner,” Anne said harshly, picturing Alexia in her mind, her slightly frizzy hair and unkempt appearance.

             
“Did she wear skimpy clothing?”

             
“Well, no.”

             
“Did she make sexual innuendos in your presence?”

             
“No,” Anne said, unsure she liked this particular line of questioning.  “But they wouldn’t stop holding hands.”

             
“What makes you believe she is promiscuous?”

             
“She’s pregnant.  They’re not married, and they’re living together.  What more proof do I need to know that she’s promiscuous?”

             
“Anne, it’s not the nineteen fifties.  Many people live together before marriage.”

             
“It’s not proper.”   Anne was stubbornly avoiding the truth of her counselor’s words.  It didn’t matter how many people did it now, it was still inappropriate.

             
“Does your son seem unhappy?”