Mad Max: Unintended Consequences (8 page)

Summer crowded in on the Fourth of July. What happened to “I'll probably be gone a week or two” back in February? Every step toward going home came with two steps backward, keeping me in Riverbend.

Merry's first surgery, the major one where her eye socket and cheekbones would be restructured, was scheduled for the Wednesday after the Fourth. Merry, Whip, and I would be alone that critical period before surgery, because both kids were leaving for summer camp on Friday the second.

Alex was going to a two-week computer camp at Penn State University, where he'd stay in a dorm. “I'll be just like a real college student.”

Emilie had chosen a yoga camp in the Great Smoky Mountains. “I want something spiritual, Mad Max, some place where I can get away and meditate a lot.”

The more she could learn to handle whatever gift she had through exercise and meditation, the better off she'd be. Whip didn't understand all this woo-hoo stuff; Merry didn't care as long as nothing got in the way of her operation.

On the first of the month, Whip came home for dinner. I met him in the hallway and stared at his empty hands.

“Weren't you supposed to bring home Chinese?” I'd overheard him talking with Merry earlier in the day.

“Crap. Merry promised to order dinner, and I was supposed to pick it up, wasn't I?”

Whip turned on his heel and bolted for the Imperial Palace. He called a few minutes later to tell me he had to wait for the order. Merry hadn't called after all.

Merry seemed to be coming around since she met Dr. Hunter. Was I wrong? I watched her closely, but all I saw was her becoming happier with her initial surgery less than a week away.

Merry was on her first public vodka and tonic in the family room when Whip returned. He put the food down in the kitchen, but she didn't move.

“Get up and set the table.”

I wasn't prepared for Whip's anger when he pulled Merry to her feet and pushed her toward the kitchen. He'd had time to work up a bellyful of steam while our food cooked. Whip went to the bottom of the stairs and called the kids.

Alex blasted out of his room, shouting, “I beat Mad Max three times at LAPD today.”

“You guys made enough noise for the whole neighborhood to know.” Emilie grouched.

“Hey…Chinese. Cool.” Alex grabbed a goldfish box and spooned General Tso's Chicken onto his plate. He added rice and Ants in the Trees, a fancy name for broccoli with black beans.

“You forgot extra egg rolls,” Merry complained.

Was that all she thought about?

“If you'd called in the goddamned order like you said you would, you'd have egg rolls.”

“You always forget egg rolls, Dad.” Emilie, ever the peacemaker, tried to soothe the open wound that was her father's heart.

Whip drew in a deep breath and forced a tight smile. “I guess I do.”

We ate in silence, except for Alex's exuberant chomping. I had so much more work to do with him. We were halfway through our meal when Whip said he'd be doing a lot of traveling again. He and his longtime partner, Zach “Tops” Zimmerman, spent the afternoon pouring over staffing assignments.

“Tops and I have several huge projects lined up. I'll supervise at least one of them. We're just about out of skilled people. Only one can keep projects running right.”

Baloney. Whip wanted to get away from Merry, if only for a few days at a time. I did too. Each trip home was an escape from my disintegrating daughter.

“You're running away.” Emilie set her chopsticks beside her plate and crossed her arms.

I laughed.

“I'm sorry, but you look just like your mother. And me.”

Merry turned blurry eyes at Emilie. “Yeah, you look like your grandmother.”

She probably meant to hurt me, but I refused to get riled.

“You're running away.” Emilie hung onto her thought with the tenacity of a Rottweiler. “Mom, make him stay.”

“I don't care if he goes or not. It's all the same to me.” With that, Merry got up, refilled her wineglass, and went upstairs, leaving her plate on the table.

“Crap.” Whip half-rose then sank back in his chair. “Hey, I'm not leaving tomorrow. My first trip will be while you guys are at camp. You'll never know I'm gone.”

I, too, leaned back and crossed my arms under my breasts—metaphorically, since I didn't want to be seen sitting in judgment over my son-in-law. Not in front of Emilie and Alex. Whip and I needed to present a united front, even when it wasn't true.

Whip would never be satisfied in a nine-to-five job, home every night for dinner, weekends doing chores, and taking his wife to dinner on Saturdays. He was only truly happy with the dust of a job site on his boots and one of his guns strapped to his hip. That didn't jibe with being a father.

Alex finished a second helping and began a third while his father talked about several contracts his company won recently: another huge job in the Middle East, repair work on I-95 north of Richmond, something in northern Kentucky, and a tricky tunnel-and-highway project in the Peruvian Andes.

“Not another Middle East assignment, Dad,” Emilie said. “The last time ended in this mess we're in.”

“It's not fair to blame the area of the world.”

“I don't care. I don't want you going to the Middle East. Period.”

“You mentioned two jobs in the States, one here at home, one in Kentucky.” Before I could go any further, Emilie turned pale and sweaty.

“Dad doesn't want either one. He's going to Peru.” Emilie's words were distant, yet distinct.

“How do you know?” Whip had never seen Emilie go to her secret place before.

“When you think about going to Peru, your colors change inside. It's complicated. I'll explain it some other time.” She waved a hand in dismissal.

“Peru? I want to go too.” Alex turned up the volume to his outdoor-voice level.

“Alex.” I held up a finger.

“Sorry.”

“I'm right. You're going to Peru.” Emilie was close to tears.

“It's a huge job. I don't have anyone else I can trust.” Whip lost the battle of wills.

“Hadn't you better find people you can trust?” She carried her plate into the kitchen and returned to the breakfast area. “I thought you trusted Uncle Johnny,” she said, then she left.

“Does she mean Johnny Medina?” I'd never heard her refer to anyone by that name.

“Yes.”

“Why can't he take Peru?” I was ready to fight even a losing battle if it would keep Whip focused on his parental role.

“He just can't. Wife wants a divorce. Has to be here.”

“You don't? Your wife needs you, Whip. Here. Think about her.”

“Hey, anyone want the rest of the chicken?”

I shoved the half-empty box across the table. Alex dug in with his chopsticks, apparently too intent on claiming the bits inside to bother putting it on his plate.

“I have to think about this.” If Whip was planning to disappear into South America, where did that leave me?

“How long is this project?’

“At least six months.”

Whip was manipulating me, and I hated it. He didn't even ask if I could stay.

Alex finished the chicken and went upstairs.

“You can't just tell me you're going away for half a year and expect me to drop everything. I have a life too. It's in New York. Adjust your schedule to take care of your children when I go on vacation this summer.”

“I have to work.”

I clenched my jaw. “You could work closer to home.”

“I don't want to.”

“Finally, you've admitted it. You're happier away from home. Well, John Wayne, here's my schedule. Plan around it.”

I pulled a paper from the corkboard and plunked it on the table: First two weeks of July—Richmond, taking care of Merry after her operation. The kids would be at camp. Second two weeks of July—the Hamptons on Long Island with Raney and Grace, another of the Great Dames who owned a summer cottage on the shore.

“You have to be home those two weeks. I won't miss my annual summer escape with my girlfriends. I can take the kids to the Outer Banks or Myrtle Beach for the first couple of weeks of August.”

Long after we'd retired to our respective rooms, I lay propped in bed, my book unread on my lap. Unusual for me, because the book, the latest FBI Agent Pendergast installment from Douglas Preston and Lincoln Child, couldn't hold my interest.

My thoughts tumbled like wet socks in a runaway dryer.

What do I do about Merry? Was her coldness toward Whip at dinner another example of her changed personality? Is it a different manifestation of her self-absorption?

What if Whip takes the kids with him to Peru for six months? Shit, that won't work. I can't see Whip home schooling Alex, let alone Emilie. What if I demand to take the kids to New York? I could make that work.

With the kids with me in New York, I'd be home, but if Whip left Merry for several months, I didn't think his marriage would survive. Even worse, I didn't think Merry would survive. He'd be choosing his job over his wife. He already had. Had he always been like this?

I drove Merry to her final appointment with Dr. Hunter before her surgery because Whip was busy preparing for Peru. We picked Emilie up after swim class and headed to Chaminade.

When the nurse called Merry's name, we all got up. Merry introduced Emilie to Dr. Hunter. I frowned when he blocked the door.

“Mrs. Davis, wait in the outer office.”

“It's Mrs. Davies.”

“Yeah. Whatever. I'll speak to your daughter. Alone.”

“Why?” I thrust my chin outward.

“Because you two will be in my way. Besides, you have no say in Merry's decisions.”

“I thought everything was decided. At least that's what Whip told me.”

“It's up to Merry. Go back to the waiting room.”

I didn't like the way Dr. Hunter touched Emilie's face before he slammed the door. We returned to the waiting room to, well, wait.

Emilie wrinkled her nose. “What a creep. I thought doctors were supposed to be nice. I didn't like the way he looked at me.”

She pulled a novel from her backpack and settled down to read.

“Neither did I.”

Almost an hour later, Merry emerged with a computer printout in one hand. She smiled up at the doctor and walked into the waiting room.

“Well? What did he say?” I tossed last month's
National Geographic
aside.

“He can make me look twenty-one again, instead of thirty-five.”

I was stunned. If what Merry said was true, she'd look like a different person.

“Is this what you and Whip agreed on? That you'd look fifteen years younger? Since when did that matter?” I headed toward the elevator. My blood pressure rose.

“Dr. Hunter said he could change the shape of my eyes too. I'll look younger, more exotic, no longer the run-of-the-mill Riverbend Junior Leaguer.”

“What's wrong with the way you used to look? You were beautiful, Mom.” Emilie leaned against me.

“Now I'll be better.” Merry folded the printout, but Emilie snatched it.

“Who's that?”

“The new me.”

I looked over Emilie's shoulder.

“The new you? What about the old you? The you we all love? The you Whip married?” I became more and more upset. My cheeks burned.

“Dr. Hunter's going to make some small changes here and there. I'll be almost the way I was, just better.”

“These aren't small changes; it's a total transformation. Whip won't like it. Nor will Alex.” I returned the paper.

Merry folded it in quarters and tucked it into her purse.

“Em's already cast her vote.”

“You'll look like a stranger.” Emilie turned her back on her mother.

“You'd better have a long talk with Whip. You guys should decide this together.”

“It's my face. I can do with it as I please. Besides, Dr. Hunter said Whip will love the new me.”

“How does he know? Is he clairvoyant? He met Whip, what, twice? Does he know him well enough to make such a statement?”

“Get off my goddamned back.” Merry climbed into the passenger seat of the Infiniti. I looked at Emilie in the rearview mirror; she just rolled her eyes and shrugged. I noticed a bead of sweat on her upper lip.

I maneuvered onto I-95 and headed home. It'd take us almost an hour to reach Riverbend without traffic, but we'd been in the doctor's office so long we hit an early rush hour backup. I swore under my breath. The cars ahead of us were at a virtual dead stop.

Since we had time on our hands and Merry was captive, I grilled her. The more questions I asked, the vaguer her answers became. When she said it was up to Dr. Hunter to decide what to do and when, I lost it.

“Why are you so mad?”

“Because you don't know what all he's going to do. You don't know in what order. You don't know how long you'll have to recuperate between procedures.” More accusations stuck to the roof of my mouth. I honked when a Lexus cut me off. “You have no idea how long it's going to take from beginning to end.”

“It's none of your business.”

“That's not true. Until I go home, it's very much my business. Talk to Whip. You're going against his wishes.”

“I will. Just shut up.”

I didn't know who I wanted to flip off more, Merry or the stupid man in the silver Lexus. He was talking on his cell and holding a cigarette. Does he have a third hand?

“I want to look perfect. I'm going to be perfect. Nothing you say will make me change my mind.” Merry stared out the window.

“I don't like him,” Emilie chimed in. “He's fangy and creeps me out.”

Merry slipped a pill into her mouth. She closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the seat. I'd lost her again.

I delivered Alex to the bus for computer camp on the first and spent over twelve hours driving Emilie to yoga camp outside of Asheville, North Carolina. On the way home, I couldn't get Merry's desire to look twenty-one again out of my mind. Lord knew, that was all she talked about.

Now the three of us sat in chairs along the James, waiting for the annual fireworks show to begin.

“I don't want to come home and find a stranger. I want to come home to my wife.”

Merry turned away from Whip. “I want to be twenty-one again.”

Be? Not look? Where had that come from?