Every Day (21 page)

“Yes, that’s true! But I don’t see any reason, outside of anger and pride, to abandon the life we’ve made because of this. I just don’t see the reason! I haven’t done this to hurt or spite you! And I don’t blame you for feeling anything you may feel about anything! But I can’t leave my house and children because I love, in whatever ways I do, two men. I can’t. You’ll have to get the authorities to drag me out of here. I’m not going.”

Simon laughs. “I’m not going to do that.” He leans back in the contrary chair and flips a pencil he’s been turning in his hands over his shoulder.

“What, then?” I say.

“I’m not sleeping on this cot.”

“Okay, then I will.”

I lie down on it, as if I’m testing its firmness and durability. “It’s fine. You take the bed.”

“No,” he tells me, moving from the chair over to me. “No, that won’t do either.”

He kisses my ear, cheek, jaw, then my mouth, chin, neck, and down the center of my chest to my navel. He looks up briefly.

“Stop?” he asks.

“It’s okay.”

“Are you with me?” he says.
Or him
? I know he means to ask.

“Yes,” I say, amazed.

He makes me come with his tongue, and I cry out again and again, too loud for this house, for all of us, the cot groaning beneath me.

“Are you with me?” he asks again as we lie on our sides afterward, thin people facing each other.

I tell him I am.

“Let’s sleep here. Let’s say you’re the concubine and my wife is upstairs asleep among her maids in antique splendor. You don’t even have to dress and sneak out of here before dawn. One of my grooms will take you home.”

“What’s my name?”

“Connie.”

“Connie?”

“Connie the Concubine. Connie Lingus. Connie, short for Constance.”

As tired as we are, we roar over this.

“Where does Connie live?” I ask.

“Wherever she wants,” he says, drifting. “Some women do that.”

While he sleeps I listen for cars, for Isaac being driven home by his concubine. But there are no cars. No raccoon fights or cats in heat. No snoring or humming fridge. My ears are full all the same, and it’s deafening, the change in this house.

•   •   •

“Who slept on the cot?” Jane calls as I’m getting out cereal.

“We did,” I call back.

She appears in the kitchen, as if by magic.

“You and Daddy?”

“Daddy and I.”

“You’re sleeping with Daddy again?” she pants.

“Jane, honestly.” I turn my back on her to get Daisy into the high chair and get her bib and spoon.

“Mo-om!”

I face her, lean against the counter, sipping coffee with cream, utterly satisfied.

“Are you and Daddy getting back together?”

“It appears so.”

“Oh my
God!
” she screams. “Adrienne’s going to take a fit!”

I stop her right there. “Here’s the deal,” I say. “Adrienne doesn’t know everything. There are things occurring on the face of this earth this very minute that Adrienne has no notion of and could never process or judge. Do me a favor, and don’t believe everything Adrienne tells you.”

“Where is he?”

“Where is who?” I’m thinking of Isaac, who didn’t come home last night.

“Daddy.”

“At the store. We’re out of jam. And I thought we needed croissants.”

It’s actually true that I have a craving for croissants, but she lets it slide. “Is Isaac up yet?” She’s so animated, so delighted that we’re under one roof, that I don’t want to tell her he isn’t.

“Probably.”

“Did you guys talk? Is he talking to you?”

“Not yet.”

“Are you driving us to Grandpa’s for brunch today?”

“Yes.”

“Oh God, I’m so happy!” She hugs me swiftly, then sits for Honey Nut Cheerios.

“Hap-py!” Daisy bangs out with her spoon.

“Mom, you’re gaining weight.” Jane warns.

I look down. I’m in shorts, which isn’t usual for me. My legs do look fat today. Sometimes after sex they look that way, wide and wiggly.

“I’ll bear that in mind.”

“It’s okay, Mom,” Jane says. “You can be fat. As long as you’re
here
, you can be fat or thin. I don’t care.”

“Thanks.”

“If you get really fat, though, you should see someone about it. It means you’re depressed. And people might talk.”

“They’re already talking.”

She laughs, and I get more coffee, which I shouldn’t have, as it will make me hungry later, and then fatter when I honor the hunger. I join them at their breakfast, Beethoven is on the classical station where my kitchen radio dial rests. Before the sonata concludes, I hear the front doorknob turn. I force myself to remain seated. Isaac walks into the kitchen and looks at each of us without speaking.

“Hi,” I say.

“Hi,” says he.

“Do you want some breakfast?”

“Yeah,” he says.

“What would you like?”

“I’ll have that.” He points to the Cheerios.

“Where
were
you?” Jane says. “You look like shit.”

I put the bowl and spoon down in front of him.

“Out,” he says. “You look like shit, too.”

“Do you two mind?” I say. “There’s a civilized baby present.”

“Out where?” Jane says.

“Wherever.” He starts shoveling.

“Did you stay out
all night?
” she says.

“Pretty much,” he says. He shoots me a triumphant, fuck-you look.

“Aren’t you
tired?
” she begs.

“I slept.”

“That’s nice,” I say. “Then you’ll come with us to Grandpa’s today.”

“Sure.”

He’s too smooth, too easy, too pleased. He’s had sex with that beautiful girl, and that’s that. Mostly it’s been me dishing out truth for other people to swallow. Now it’s my turn to swallow it.

•   •   •

The four of us ride into Manhattan in a glaring haze, the A/C on high, a new tape of Isaac’s by M. C. Hammer playing at an intolerable volume. Simon’s meeting us there after an errand to the computer wholesaler. I wish he were here, just to turn down the tape deck.

“Turn it down, Mom!” Jane shouts into my ear.

“No problem,” says Isaac. Downright jaunty, he is. Agreeable, interested, and in my face.

“Do I get to meet her?” I ask.

“Am I meeting him?”

“Sure.”

“What if I don’t want to?”

“Then you won’t. But he’d like to meet you—again.”

“Well, she doesn’t want to meet you, Mom. Sorry.”

“May I know her name?”

“Her name is Alex. Alexandra.”

“She sounds like a snob,” Jane interjects.

“Like you’d know anything about snobs,” Isaac retorts.

“Alexandra
what?
” Jane demands.

“Alexandra Aidinoff.”

“Aidinoff,” I repeat. My mind reels. A name like mine. Jewish, maybe. They’ll make him convert.

“Where’d you meet her?”

“Camp,” he says coolly. “She’s helping in the office. Her dad owns the camp.”

“How old is she?”

“Jesus, Mom. How old is
he
?”

“Forty-seven. How old is she?”

“Nineteen. Does it matter?”

“I think it matters to you. It means she can take you places in the car.”

“Did you
sleep
with her?” Jane asks, thrilled.

“Put a sock in it, Jane,” Isaac orders with disgust. But I catch him smiling into his shirt.

“What does she look like?” I can’t help it. I want to hear him describe her.

“Like you, Mom. She looks just like you.”

“Except she’s nine feet tall and looks like Brooke Shields,” Jane cackles.

“Just one thing,” I say, feeling horribly dwarfed. “You call. You call and tell me you’re at a friend’s house and you’ll be out all night. And then you let me talk to one of her parents. Only so I’ll know you’re not dead.”

“No problem,” he says.

“Mom and Daddy are back together,” Jane announces. “In case you were wondering.”

“Hallelujah. She’s back together with all of our fathers.”

I pull over, once we’re in striking distance of Daddy’s apartment, into a metered spot. I grab the front of his shirt so hard he doesn’t even attempt to fight me.

“You listen to me carefully. I had you when I was younger than your new friend, and I don’t need to go into what a total party it was raising you when I had no husband, no money, and just about nothing to recommend me. But I’m your only mother, I’m it, and I’m not going to take this shit from you for one more minute. Have your girlfriend! I won’t stop you! But mouth off to me like you just did ever again and I’ll get in touch with her parents faster than
yesterday
and tell them she’s sleeping with my fourteen-year-old boy who doesn’t use birth control. I’ll make sure you never leave your room again, in addition. You got me?”

He stares, frozen, at the dashboard.

“YOU GOT ME?” I yell.

“Yes,” he murmurs.

“WHAT?”

“
Yes!
” he shouts back.

“Good! Now take your sisters upstairs. I have to get a coffee ring.”

He gets out, slams the door as I expect him to, and stands on the curb while I get Daisy out. Jane, frightened, looks up at him and slips her hand into his. I give him the baby, who clings to his neck like a chimpanzee.

“Don’t drop her,” I tell him.

•   •   •

I get a pecan ring at the bakery, practice deep breathing in the elevator to prepare to hold my temper at Daddy’s, and give the doorbell a good punch. I don’t expect a warm greeting, and I don’t get one.

Daddy’s handing out frosted theme cookies, Miss Piggy for Daisy and Power Rangers for Jane and Isaac. “The children are well,” he says finally. “All in order, I see.”

“All in order,” say I.

“Good to know. Your mother should be here soon.”

“She’s back?” I’m surprised. Usually she stays on when she goes to Nantucket.

“She called yesterday. Apparently things weren’t so easy up there, and she decided to return.”

Today it annoys me that my father always speaks as if he’s reading from a book.

“What went wrong? I thought Amanda was very spry still.”

“Oh, Amanda’s very spry. Your mother wasn’t visiting Amanda. She went to Vineyard Haven to visit an old flame who’s had a stroke and can’t get around too well. Add that
difficulty to his homosexuality—your mother has never seemed to mind that fact—and I suppose you’ve got an even more remote chance of a good visit!” Tickled, Daddy begins to fuss over the table, adding my pecan ring to the mix of bagels, cream cheese and chives, lox, onions, and sliced tomato.

“Sounds like he has a few strikes against him,” I say, furious.

“It’s a nice ring you’ve brought,” he says.

Vernon.
She went to visit Vernon. She still knows him!

“Daddy,” I say.

“Yes,” he says in his what-is-it tone.

“Simon’s coming.”

“Yes? Good.”

“And Isaac has a girlfriend.”

Isaac looks up from the antique music box he’s been winding up for Daisy.

“And why shouldn’t he?” Daddy says, walking over and cupping the back of Isaac’s dark head. “A boy like this?”

“And I’ve got a book contract, I think. Or I’ll know by the end of the month, probably. And we’re just fine, except for Fowler, who’s got Lou Gehrig’s. But we’re all here, and I think we’re fine.”

“Lou Gehrig’s?” my father says. “Fowler’s got Lou Gehrig’s?”

“Yes.”

“What’s that?” Isaac says.

“A degenerative disease of the spine and musculature,” I explain.

“Your mother didn’t say anything about Lou Gehrig’s,” Daddy says. “Why would she not have mentioned a thing like that?”

“I didn’t tell her what he had because I didn’t know until recently. I only knew that he wasn’t well.”

“WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?” Isaac shouts, now on his feet.

“He’s
dying,
” Jane says. “He walks with a cane, and his legs and arms don’t always work. But he gives people things anyway. It’s like he knows he’s dying, so he wants to do everything he can before he dies. He looks just like you, Isaac. And he’s a nice man, right, Daze?”

Daisy looks up, then back into the music box to try and figure out why it has stopped playing.

“Is this true, Leigh?” Daddy asks.

I nod, not taking my face from Isaac’s, which is full of hatred.

“All of it.”

“Halloo!” Mother calls from the hallway, having let herself in. She finds us all clumped around the ugly facts. “Halloo, family! I’m sorry I’m so late. Isn’t anyone going to have anything to eat?”

•   •   •

For the first time in weeks all five of us are in one car. We left Daddy and Mother mulling over the Movie Clock in the “Weekend” section. All three children are asleep in the backseat.

“My guess is that they end up at the Merchant and Ivory.”

“Daddy hates Merchant and Ivory.”

“Really? I’d have thought just the opposite. I’d have thought the European settings, the classic plots, the sophisticated company, would be right up his alley. Nothing to foment over, no contemporary angst to ridicule.”

“He can’t stand the way people leave the theater whispering ‘How wonderful’ after those films. That’s what he hates.”

Simon smiles. “I’ve underestimated him.”

“Oh, they’re fairly colorful, my parents. Mother was up on the Vineyard visiting her first love, who happens to be gay. Daddy couldn’t have been more pleased.”

“No threat there,” Simon reminds me.

“That’s not why he was amused, I don’t think. I think he
just finds everything human amusing, or at least intriguing. He has an ability to see everything from a distance, to apply Hegel’s dialectic to a cocktail party. And Mother supplies the party for him to analyze.”

“Is that why they separated?”

“I guess it wasn’t enough of a party, just the three of us in one house,” I say.
“In the absence of conflict we create it,
” I boom out, in Daddy’s lecturing voice.

“Is that what happened with us? It’s not enough of a party for you anymore?”

“A
party?
” I demand. “Jesus fucking Christ, Simon!”

Simon raises his voice to meet mine, despite the sleeping children.