Finding Isadora (17 page)

“
So I guess you’re hoping Gabriel does turn out to be your father.”

His eyes widened in surprise, then he gave a rueful laugh.
“I suppose I am. Boy, that’s a first.”

If Gabriel did prove to be Richard
’s biological father, would the bond between the two men be strengthened? Or would Gabriel react to Diane’s dishonesty and take it out on Richard?

Richard paid the bill and added a substantial tip for our poor confused waitress.

As we strolled toward my apartment hand in hand, toting our bags of leftovers, we’d both run out of words, and that was fine by me. He’d given me so much to think about. For now, it was nice to just walk together, feel comfortable together. The night was overcast, but warm and not raining, and the streets were crowded with people on their way to and from movies, dinners, drinks—or just on the prowl.

At the entrance to my building we stopped and faced each other.
“Coming in?” I asked.

Richard kissed me gently, without a touch of passion.
“Not tonight, Iz. I’d be rotten company.”

“
It doesn’t matter.”

“
Thanks, anyhow. I’m going to head back to the office and do some work. It’ll take my mind off all of this.” He hugged me tightly. “Thanks for being here for me. You’re not just my fiancée, you’re a true friend.”

Reflecting on everything he
’d told me tonight, I went inside and slowly climbed the stairs. As I turned the key in my lock, a thought struck me as forcefully as a blow. I gasped and fumbled the key, then managed to turn it and darted inside. Ignoring Pogo’s scrabbling at my legs and Owl’s greeting, I headed straight for the phone.

Grace answered. At the sound of her familiar voice I found myself saying,
“Mom?”

There was no response. The word must have surprised Grace as much as it surprised me. I
’d never called my parents Mother and Father or Mom and Dad. They had always been—had always wanted to be—Grace and Jimmy Lee. So where had
Mom
come from?

“
What’s wrong, Isadora?”

I took a deep breath, then said it.
“Is Jimmy Lee my real father?”

“
What?” Grace’s voice was an incredulous squeak. “Of course he’s your father. What are you talking about?”

“
I mean, is he my biological father?”

“
Yes! Isadora, what’s going on?”

“
How do you know he is? I mean, you and Jimmy Lee have always believed in free love, so how can you be sure?”

“
Oh. Okay, now I see where you’re coming from, hon. Well, I can be sure because you were no accident.”

“
Really?” I sagged against the kitchen counter, weak with relief. It had never occurred to me that my disorganized parents had actually
planned
to have a child. For some reason we’d never had this discussion before, and I’d always assumed I was the product of carelessness with respect to birth control.

Grace gave a patient sigh.
“You know Jimmy Lee and I met in college, right? When he came up from Georgia to attend Boston University? We connected right away, had the same values even though we came from such different backgrounds.”

My mother
’s family were blue-blood northern snobs and Jimmy Lee’s were redneck southern crackers. Amazing that both sets of parents had managed to spawn left-wing activists.

“
Grace, I know all this. He burned his draft card, the two of you came to Canada. Get to the point.”

“
We were together a long time and went through a lot together. We knew we shared something special, quite different from with the other people we slept with.”

“
You do.” And I’d never understood why two people who shared such a special love would want to sleep with other partners.

“
When we were in our thirties, we talked about it,” Grace said. “We figured that kind of love should produce a child, and we decided that’s what we wanted to do. Of course we couldn’t be sure we’d last forever as a couple, but we trusted each other. We knew we’d always be friends, always stand by our child.”

I carried the phone into the living room and sank down in my rattan basket chair. Pogo settled himself on my feet, anchoring me.
“So you made the decision to have a child, and the two of you were faithful?”

“
I went off the pill and we were faithful. That was a special time. It brought us closer than we’d imagined two people could be. Planning for you, experiencing my pregnancy. And your birth.”

“
At the commune.” I nodded into the phone. This part I knew. My parents had lived in a huge, ramshackle old house in the Fraser Valley with a dozen other people. Most of the household had gathered around as a midwife supervised and Jimmy Lee delivered Grace’s baby. We had photos in a family album.

“
Why are you asking this question now, hon?” Grace asked

“
I…” I couldn’t tell Grace about Richard’s situation. “I was thinking about free love and being the child of hippie parents. It hit me that it would be such a shock to suddenly find out the person you’d thought of as your father all your life wasn’t really your father.”

“
I suppose. The same kind of thing as for people who find out later in life that they were adopted. But the parents who raised and loved you would be your real parents in every meaningful sense of the word.”

Ah, but Gabriel had never really been there for Richard. However, Grace and I were talking hypotheticals now, not about my own or Richard
’s situation. “In emotional terms, I’m sure that’s true. But what about things like genetic traits? Illnesses, predispositions. I mean, what if one of your biological parents had some horrible disease, and you had the gene for it, and you could help prevent it by doing certain things—or you could get tested so it would be diagnosed early and treated? Shouldn’t you know this stuff?”

When I paused for breath, Grace started to say something, but I kept right on going.
“You might live your life differently. You might not get married. Would it be fair on your spouse to have to nurse you and watch you die? You might not have kids because you could pass the disease along.” My voice had risen and speeded up as I began to identify with Richard’s panic. Now I understood his desire to know everything about his heredity.

Grace chuckled softly.
“You modern young people. Jimmy Lee and I didn’t give the slightest thought to what genetic traits lurked in our families.”

Of course they hadn
’t; they’d probably been too stoned. I refrained from pointing out that rational planning wasn’t something either of them had ever cared about.

“
Very few people have ever had the kind of information you’re talking about,” Grace went on. “Really horrible, obvious things like hemophilia, maybe. But we’re only just figuring out what other diseases may have a genetic component. Things like Alzheimer’s, Huntington’s, bipolar disorder, schizophrenia. Seems to me, hon, that when you love someone and they love you, the two of you want to be together. You don’t leave someone because they’re sick. So, would you somehow manage to prevent yourself from loving them just because they might get sick later?”

I
’d said something similar to Richard. “Okay, I’ll give you that one. But what about children? If both parents carried a gene for some awful illness, shouldn’t they know? So they could make an informed decision about having children?”

“
Having a baby is always a risk. People with perfect genes, perfect health, can have children with dreadful physical and mental problems. And if two people love each other and want to create a baby out of that love—like Jimmy Lee and I did—they take their chances, sure. But they’re going to have a child they love with all their hearts. Even if that little girl or boy has a physical or mental illness.”

“
But is it fair to bring a child into the world when there’s a likelihood it might have a serious problem?”

“
Hmm.” She paused. “That’s a complicated question. I’d say it’s fair on the parents if they know the risk they’re taking, but maybe it isn’t if they don’t. So I see what you mean about making an informed decision. As for the child, I think it’s fair to her or him because otherwise that unique human being wouldn’t exist at all.”

Grace went on, her tone reflective.
“But then there’s society. Is it fair to society, to the taxpayers who are going to have to pay for support services? But on the other hand, society has reaped huge benefits from people with serious illnesses. Look at Stephen Hawking with ALS, Michael J. Fox with Parkinson’s, and Patty Duke with bipolar disorder. Surely no-one would ever say the world would be better off without them. Not only have they made a contribution in their professions, but they’ve done so much to increase public awareness about their illnesses.”

I nodded thoughtfully, wishing Grace and I, and Jimmy Lee too, were having this discussion in their living room, sharing wine or herbal tea. This was one of the best things about my parents—their intelligence, curiosity, and openness. They never settled for easy answers. They were as eager to explore and debate, to argue and change their minds, as they must have been in university days.

“What if the illness was fatal at a young age?” I said. “What if the child was in horrible pain?”

“
That’s every parent’s nightmare,” Grace said softly. “I do see your point, hon, but parenthood is scary. If you worry about everything that
might
happen, you’ll paralyze yourself.”

“
But if you can prevent something bad from happening, then wouldn’t you?”

“
I suppose. But Isadora, where’s this coming from? Are you worrying about you and Richard having kids? You’re both healthy young people with healthy parents. Don’t overcomplicate things.”

I hadn
’t been, not until Richard had started me worrying. As for him… Was this concern about hereditary problems a smokescreen to prevent himself from admitting that what he really wanted to know was whether Gabriel DeLuca was his father?

“
You’re right,” I said. “Grace, I’m so glad you’re my mother. And that Jimmy Lee’s my father. You two are the best.”

“
Well! Thanks, Isadora. I’m not sure I’ve ever heard you say that before.”

“
I know I often focus on the ways we’re different, the issues we disagree on. But you’re the ones who taught me that it’s good for people to have different opinions as long as we aren’t hurting anyone. Even more important, you’ve always supported me and loved me.”

“
And always will.” She paused. “So, you’re okay now?”

“
I’m good. Night, Grace. Kiss Jimmy Lee for me.”

I hung up feeling darned lucky. And sorry for Richard.

Grace hadn’t resolved all the issues Richard had raised in my mind, but she’d given me the key. Love. If you loved someone, you could face anything together.

Now that I was off the phone, Pogo resumed bouncing around my feet.
“Sorry, baby. You want to go out.”

On the way to the door I stroked Owl
’s colorful head and said, “I’ll feed you and the cats the moment I get back,” to which he replied, “So you say, cutie.”

I gathered Pogo
’s leash and a couple of poop-scoop bags. Typically, we walked about a mile before bed, and again in the morning. The streets of the West End held no fear for me since there were so many people out and about at every hour of the day or night. The neighborhood was a spicy, bubbly stew of old and young, gay and straight, Caucasian and every other race under the sun, and I found the mix savory and delicious. I wasn’t blind to risk and always stayed alert, but rarely did I feel even the tiniest hint of a threat.

Pogo hopped along happily, as nimble and self-confident as any four-legged dog, and I indulged him as he investigated the smells that had accumulated since Mr. Schultz had taken him out earlier.

Reflecting on my chats with Richard and Grace, I thought that Pogo was imperfect, with his missing leg. But if anything I loved him more, not less, because of it.

* * *

This week, my days off were Saturday and Sunday. I’d expected Richard to stay over on Friday night, so felt at loose ends when I woke alone. I called to see how he was, and ask if he was interested in meeting for a meal.

“
I’m okay, thanks, Iz. But there’s a big file I’m working on so I’m afraid I’d best keep at it.”

“
Are you going to talk to Gabriel?”

“
I think so. Maybe tomorrow. I’ll give myself another night to sleep on it.”

“
Sleep here, Richard. It doesn’t matter if you come in late. Remember what you said about living together?”

“
I’m so messed up about this, I feel like being alone.”

And when we were married, would he still
want to be alone when he had a problem? Now—when he was still stricken by Diane’s news—was not the time for this discussion, so I tried to shove away my worries and hurt feelings. “Let me know if there’s anything I can do.”