Often she wondered if Maggie had gone to Harvard after all and if she was still pursuing a career in journalism. She had wanted to ask Teddy about her several times, but knew that forcing him to talk about Maggie would be like bringing up the time he’d soiled himself in the middle of the night—both were smelly shameful incidents that he wanted to forget.
Fourteen
ANA RETURNED TO ADAM’S room, and although it was barely midafternoon, she was already dreading the night. She feared that death would come in the dark, when mystery prevails and the spirit is most alive. Because of this, she understood that she needed to be most vigilant at this time. She often stayed awake, taking comfort from the fact that at least it was more difficult to perceive the passage of time in the dark. For a few hours she could pretend that it had actually stopped and that she and her beloved were suspended within an endless and eternal void.
These wakeful nights forced her to sleep in the afternoon instead, so once Adam began sleeping in a hospital bed she took to sleeping in a cot next to him. Lying upon it now, she watched the play of shadow and light against the wall and felt herself rocking back and forth. Everything became hazy as Adam’s breathing kept time with the mild gusts that moved the branches to and fro outside the window. She was almost asleep when she heard voices outside. She opened her eyes and sat up slowly. Her heart began to race at the thought that Teddy had finally come home. She listened more carefully and realized that it wasn’t Teddy after all. Not only could she hear who it was, she could also feel it in her bones and smell it in the air. She wondered if this is how it was in ancient times when people could sense an approaching pestilence or plague. Perhaps this knowing allowed them the time to prepare and garner the strength they needed to survive the ordeal.
She’d always hoped that the passing years would wash over everything and impart its veil of indifference, as only time can do. But if anything, her negative feelings had only grown stronger. She wasn’t able to shrug his behavior off and chalk it up to the adventurous spirit of reckless but goodhearted people. Ana was unable to forgive Darwin and she doubted that she ever would.
“I hear voices,” Adam said, his own voice weak.
Ana quickly left her cot and went to him. “Your brother is here. Do you want to see him now? I can ask him to wait if you like.”
Adam swallowed, but it was difficult for Ana to discern whether he was nodding or shaking his head. If he were to tell her that he didn’t want to see his brother, Ana would have no difficulty sending Darwin away.
“I want to see him,” he said, his eyes shining.
Downstairs, Ana found Darwin and Millie embracing in the foyer. She waited a few moments to announce, more somberly than she’d intended, that Adam was awake and wanted to see him.
Darwin bowed in Ana’s direction and sarcastically muttered something about how convenient that was, since that’s precisely the reason he’d come. After a few more kind words to Millie and a kiss on her forehead besides, he proceeded up the stairs. Ana followed several steps behind him.
“I’ve never seen you look so pale,” he said. “It seems that this romantic adventure has depleted you.”
Ana felt herself tremble with loathing. She was unable to think of anything to say to him, as every word that came to mind was more hateful than the next.
“What’s wrong?” Darwin said. “Do you hate me so much that you can’t even speak?”
“I don’t hate you,” Ana said. “I pity you.”
“Really?” Darwin replied, stopping to look down on her. “You’re a terrible liar, Ana. I’ve always been able to see in your eyes just how much you despise me.”
Ana looked away, and Darwin proceeded up the stairs alone. Not sure whether to go up or down, she sat right where she was and rested her head on her arms. She could hear people in the kitchen, but she didn’t have the energy or desire to join them. Neither did she think it appropriate to be present while Adam spoke to his brother. But from this central place she could keep tabs on everything going on in the house. It was a wonder she’d never sat there before. It was an unexpected discovery, and as she listened to Jessie’s voice drifting in from the kitchen, she felt herself drifting away.
Jessie appraised herself in the full-length mirror, turning round and round in her lavender prom dress. She looked lovely, although she was obviously not completely pleased with what she saw. Ms. Lillian entered the room with a pair of earrings that she wanted her daughter to consider. She then stood next to Jessie in front of the mirror. Jessie didn’t have her mother’s willowy figure and graceful neck. She had a thicker waist and her limbs were chunky, making her look instantly plain and awkward by comparison. It was all Jessie could do not to push her mother away.
“Jessie, your hair looks beautiful with that dress,” I observed.
“Should I wear it up, or down?” she asked.
“Definitely up,” Ms. Lillian replied before I could answer. “It’ll give you height and make you look slimmer.”
“I think I’ll wear it down,” Jessie said.
“But think of how lovely these earrings will look with your hair up,” Ms. Lillian said, holding them next to her.
Jessie shrugged. She clearly had no intention of wearing them. “Nana, will you brush out my hair for me and curl the ends with the iron like you do?”
Immediately I went to the bathroom for the iron and plugged it in. That’s when the argument began. “Put your shoulders back a bit, Jessie. Notice what happens to your tummy when you stand up straight.” Jessie said nothing. “You’ve put on a few pounds, dear. When we bought this dress, I told you that you couldn’t afford to gain an ounce, but it’s definitely pulling at the seams.”
“It’ll be okay, Mom,” Jessie muttered.
I touched the iron—not hot enough—and I crossed my arms, hoping and praying that there wouldn’t be another explosion, today of all days.
“I don’t know,” Ms. Lillian replied, and through the door I saw her shaking her head with the most discouraging expression clouding her face.
“Mom, can you please stop?”
“Stop what? I’m not doing anything.”
Jessie started to pace in front of the mirror and then rushed to her vanity to get away from her reflection and her mother. “Yes, you are, you’re doing that thing you do, that ‘You’ll never be good enough’ thing you do.”
Ms. Lillian glared at her daughter. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Nana,” Jessie cried. “Nana, get in here, now.”
I rushed in ready to announce that the iron was hot enough, but I didn’t have the opportunity.
“Nana, tell her to stop.” Jessie’s face was twisted, and already her carefully applied makeup was beginning to run at the corners of her eyes, makeup that her mother had insisted she wear to make her eyes look bigger and brighter.
Ms. Lillian turned to me, her own face beginning to color. “I don’t know what she’s talking about. I’m not doing anything. I’m simply standing here, and she’s treating me like I’m a piece of shit stuck to the bottom of her Salvatore Ferragamo shoes that I bought her, not easy to find in a size ten, I might add.”
At this Jessie took off her shoes and threw one after the other against the wall. “Here are your fucking shoes, Mom. You can take ’em and shove ’em up your ass!” That said, she ran out of the room, tripping on the hem of her lavender skirt as she left. I glanced at the clock. Jessie’s prom date, Charlie Winston, was due to show up in a few minutes and he was always on time.
Ms. Lillian’s face had drained of all color. The arguments between them had been growing in intensity and frequency, but Jessie had never resorted to such crude language before.
“That little bitch,” Ms. Lillian said. “I do everything I can for her, take her shopping, get her the dress and the shoes she wants. Do you think she’s taking drugs?” she asked, jerking her head around to look at me.
“I don’t think so, Ms. Lillian.”
“Bu
t this is exactly what they say happens when kids take drugs. They have outbursts that make no sense, and they act crazy just like Jessie’s acting right now.”
“She’s not taking drugs,” I said with more certainty.
Ms. Lillian glared at me, her fists clenched. “And what do you know about it? That girl has you wound so tight around her finger, it’s a wonder you can breathe, Ana. Honestly, sometimes you act as though you’re her personal slave.”
“I realize that I indulge her at times, but that’s because I know that she’s sensitive, and she’s at a difficult age.”
“And does that give her the right to be rude and profane to her mother? Tell me, does that give her the right?”
“No it doesn’t,” I replied. “Jessie was very wrong to say what she did.”
But Lillian wasn’t listening to me. She was fuming and yelling, hoping that wherever Jessie was she could hear her. “She has everything she wants whenever she wants it and she’s never happy. She’s nothing but a spoiled brat.”
Mr. Trellis came into the room. “Why has Jessie locked herself in the powder room downstairs?” he asked.
“Because your daughter’s an ungrateful pig!” Ms. Lillian replied, throwing the rejected earrings still clenched in her fist onto the bed.
Mr. Trellis glanced at me. His eyes told me to go downstairs and look after Jessie, while he attended to Lillian. We’d had to proceed in this manner several times before, and it seemed to be the most effective strategy.
I rushed downstairs and knocked lightly on the powder room door. “Jessie, it’s me. It’s Nana.”
“I don’t want to talk to her,” she said. “I don’t want to see her face.”
“I’m alone,” I replied.
Jessie unlocked the door and let me in. She’d already washed off most of her makeup, and the front of her dress was soaked.
“I don’t know what to do, Nana,” she said. “I don’t want to go to the prom. I don’t want to wear this stupid dress or those ridiculous shoes. I’m not the prom type. And I’m sick of doing things to make her happy. I’m sick of her, Nana.” She stared at me with red-rimmed eyes. And then she said softly, almost reverently, “My mother is nothing but a slut—a beautiful, glamorous slut.”
I stared at Jessie, not knowing what to say.
“Don’t act so shocked, Nana. I know that you know. Everybody knows except Daddy and Teddy. And Mom thinks she’s so slick, but believe me, people talk. Do you know that none of my friends’ mothers will let their husbands anywhere near her? If Daddy knew, it would destroy him. That’s the only reason I don’t tell him.” She sighed and shook her head. “But sometimes I get the impression that he does know and that he’s just pretending for our sake. I wish I could find a way to tell him to stop pretending.”
I could only gaze at her dear freckled face, shocked to hear that Lillian hadn’t recovered from her past as I thought she had. And I was amazed by Jessie’s insight and her ability to live through this for so long without falling apart.
We heard footsteps approaching and a knock on the bathroom door. I opened it and Mr. Trellis peeked in, looking rather awkward. “There’s a young man in the foyer wearing a tuxedo and holding a beautiful corsage that would match very nicely with a lavender dress,” he said quickly and then closed the door and left us.
Jessie shook her head sadly. “Look at me, Nana. I’m a mess and I don’t want to go to that stupid prom. Do you think that if I tell Charlie I’m having a really bad day, he’ll understand?”
I shrugged. “I suppose he might, but remember, you’re still a junior and Charlie’s a senior this year. He won’t get a chance to go to the prom next year.”
Jessie sighed. “Will you go upstairs and get my shoes, Nana?”
On my way up, I passed Mr. Trellis, who was chatting politely with Charlie in the foyer. I commented on how handsome he looked in his tuxedo and gave Mr. Trellis a nod, which we both understood to mean, “Another catastrophe averted.”
I finished Jessie’s hair and thought she actually looked better without all that makeup. Charlie lit up when she made her entrance, and Jessie gave him a lovely smile as he slipped the corsage on her wrist.
I couldn’t help but feel that I’d failed Jessie by not better protecting her from the truth about her mother. And as Mr. Trellis and I waved Jessie and Charlie off, I remembered my mother’s words from long ago.
“The less you know about your father, the better,” she said.
“But why, Mama? Why won’t you tell me about him?”
She set her sewing aside and thought about it for a moment. “Because the truth will only destroy the dream, mija. And if you continue dreaming about the father you wish you had, then perhaps one day you’ll find him.”
Once Teddy was away at college, it was decided that Jessie would spend her senior year of high school studying abroad in Italy. Ms. Lillian had pushed for it, telling her daughter that it would be an awakening unlike anything she’d ever experienced. But I figured that Jessie agreed to go so that she could get away from her mother, and Lillian’s motives I would discover soon enough.
With both children away the house became filled with a deep, lonesome silence as thick and cold as a winter fog. The stillness reminded me of my years in the convent, and I often strolled the grounds and the house with my hands folded before me, as though I were participating in a holy procession of one.
I missed the children terribly and spent much of my extra time writing letters to them. I wrote to Sister Josepha as usual and even to Millie once in a while, although she’d call me back on the telephone to tell me that it didn’t make sense to write when the cost of a call was less than a stamp. Teddy and Jessie wrote back occasionally, apologizing that they’d taken so long to write back, but I was always joyful to receive their letters and would read them many times over.
When Mr. Trellis arrived home in the evenings the fog lifted and the house became filled with light and life. I felt his shimmering presence no matter where I was. And when he played the piano in the evenings, the lilting melody of his music comforted my lonely heart. I know that he missed the children terribly as I did, yet he appeared as though he’d been relieved of a heavy burden. His steps were lighter when he strode down the hall toward his study, and his laughter was brighter and more frequent than ever before.
I was compelled to do whatever necessary to make him comfortable. I saw to it that his mail was neatly stacked in his office and that dinner was always ready when he arrived home. Ever since Millie’s departure I had frequently consulted with her about matters in the kitchen so that my cooking skills gradually improved. Ms. Lillian’s life had become increasingly busy. It was difficult to keep track of her activities, and she no longer called home to say she’d be late, so Mr. Trellis often ate alone.
Sometimes he invited me to join him, and we’d talk until long after we’d finished our meal. There was so much to discuss regarding the children, and I happily shared the contents of their recent letters and listened to him recount their latest phone call. Teddy was considering premed, and Jessie had an Italian boyfriend, which made us both a little anxious. We also discussed the details regarding repairs for the house and the condition of the garden. Mr. Trellis appreciated my concern for the maintenance of his beloved estate, and together we planned a number of renovations, some more urgent than others. A few weeks earlier, I noticed that the east garden wall had required replastering to keep it from crumbling. I’d told him about the cracks I’d seen while strolling the perimeter of the grounds, and together we’d inspected the progress of the repairs. I lived for these precious moments with him.
But this tranquil, pleasant space in our lives ended abruptly one sweltering summer afternoon when Ms. Lillian came home laden down with shopping bags from Neiman Marcus and Williams and Sonoma. I met her at the front door to help her bring them in, but she immediately dropped them and pulled me with her into the kitchen. Her cheeks quivered with excitement as she spoke.
“I did it,” she said breathlessly. “I finally did it.”
“What did you do?” I asked.
“I left him. I finally left him.”
“I don’t understand, Ms. Lillian. Who did you leave?”
Ms. Lillian stared at me incredulous. “Adam, of course. Who do you think?”
It took me a moment to respond. “But everything is so peaceful. We’ve been making repairs on the house, and the children are happy at their schools…”
“Ana,” Ms. Lillian said, grabbing my shoulders. “Don’t you see? I’ve only been waiting for Teddy and Jessie to leave so I could do the same. It will be less painful for them this way.” She dropped her hands. “I found a fabulous loft in the city a few weeks ago and I signed the lease this morning. I can’t wait for you to see it.”
“Does Mr. Trellis know?” I asked, bewildered.
“We’ve been talking about it for some time now, but we didn’t want Teddy and Jessie to find out prematurely, and since you’re so close to them, we thought it best to keep it from you too, but I’ve been dying to tell you about it, and since I signed the lease today, I thought that now was the right time to let you know.”
I sat down at the kitchen table, stunned to silence.
“Ana, why do you look so upset? You of all people must’ve seen this coming.”
“I thought…,” I said, looking up. “I thought that things were getting better.”
“They’re just great as long as we stay out of each other’s way. And that hasn’t been too difficult to do,” she said rolling her eyes. “Adam and I haven’t been living like man and wife for years.”
My head was spinning with all she was telling me, and I couldn’t take in anymore. The fact that she’d found another place to live and that there had been no intimacy between them for years was more than enough for me to digest at the moment. And most confusing of all was Mr. Trellis’s behavior of late. He seemed so happy and content with his life. Perhaps he was suffering from some kind of extended shock as he tried to manage the grief of losing his wife. “Mr. Trellis must be very upset,” I said.
Vigil Page 26
