Silent Pretty Things

by O. J. Lovaz

  Listening to her mother speak of Marlene as though she were some sort of martyr whose heavy cross it would be her great joy to lighten, Anna pondered how to reconcile those words with the indelible impression left on her that day in the garden. How could the mere mention of her sister one day make her mother’s face pale and her voice falter, and yet now elicit from her such a heartfelt, compassionate response?

  “What are you thinking?” asked her mother.

  “Um, just wondering what that must have been like for Aunt Marlene, these last years. I guess up until now I had mostly seen the whole thing from Diane’s perspective.”

  That was clumsy. Why did she say that? What could it accomplish?

  “And how does it all look from her perspective? Because from a mother’s perspective, what she did was cruel and undeserved.” She darted a reproachful glance at Anna, as if it was Diane herself who was sitting in front of her.

  “I think she’d agree with you now, though she might not use those same words. I think she’d say that her actions were those of a hurt, resentful girl. From what I gather, her main beef with her mother always was her divorcing her dad and taking her away to Maryland.”

  “Children perceive their world differently from their parents.” Lydia grabbed Anna’s hand, and a dejected smile formed on her face. “Sometimes, our kids fancy that there are certainties and intentions where there’s really only doubts and fears. But kids need to believe their parents are strong; otherwise, their little worlds come tumbling down.”

  Anna was silent for a moment while her mother’s words fully sank in. She looked her in the eyes and said earnestly, “I understand, Mom. I really do. And I think that’s also what Diane has begun to comprehend.”

  Lydia patted Anna’s hand, sat back and lifted her glass of wine. “Hmm, I’m sure Marlene would love to hear that from her.”

  “Yes, she would, wouldn’t she? And do you think Aunt Marlene would be ready to forgive all and start over with a clean slate?”

  “She would, absolutely. There’s no doubt in my mind.”

  “Well, then, things are looking up. The only thing that worries me is…um, the distance between them. You know, I just wish they didn’t have to have that first talk, after years of silence, over the phone. I’ve just seen too many phone conversations go wrong because someone said something clumsy. And then, if one of them hangs up in anger—you know what I’m saying?”

  “You can’t hug your daughter over the phone. That’s what it comes down to. A warm hug can’t be misinterpreted—it can only mean ‘I love you and all is forgiven.’ You’re absolutely right about that. It’s too bad that Diane lives so far from her now.”

  “Yes, it is. If only we could arrange for them to meet in person.”

  “Well, I really think Marlene would go to see her in Boston. Yes, of course, she would.”

  Anna sipped her wine reflectively. “Don’t you think that she might take the unfortunate position that Diane should be the one to go to Maryland? Pride is a nasty, treacherous emotion. One never knows when it might come out and show its ugly face.”

  Lydia widened her eyes, eyebrows raised. “God, I don’t think she’d do that at all, but…well, you seem to have been giving this some thought. I dare say that you look like you have an idea you’d like to suggest. If you do, by all means, tell me, because I can’t think of a good solution for the difficulty that you have so well anticipated.”

  Anna had tried, to the best of her abilities, to bring up the idea of a family gathering in the subtlest way possible, but she knew that this was the end of the road. Her mother had seen through her, and the only way forward now was to reveal and openly suggest the notion. At least, Anna reckoned, she’d been successful in sparking her mother’s interest and building a good argument, which thus far her mother appeared to be buying.

  “You’re right: a thought did occur to me. In fact, this idea I’m about to tell you crossed my mind a week before we saw Diane, when Frank and Sarah got engaged. I thought, This is a great occasion that would deserve a small gathering at our parent’s house. I mean, has Dad even met Sarah?”

  “No, he hasn’t, and that might be a good thing too. You know your father and Frank would sooner be at each other’s throats than sit down for a civilized dinner together.”

  “I agree that it’s been that way between them for a long time, but if Frank’s engagement to be married isn’t occasion enough for them to bury the hatchet, at least for a day, then all is lost between them.”

  “That’s a fair point. If only they would…but let’s get back to Marlene and Diane.”

  “Yes, so that thought crossed my mind then, but soon other things occupied my mind, and I forgot all about it until I talked to Diane…”

  Her mother interrupted her. “I’ve been meaning to ask you, how did that come about? How did you find Diane?”

  Anna was instantly vexed at herself. What a rookie mistake this was, not thinking in advance how to answer that question. She tried to keep her face relaxed, “Oh, I…had been searching for her on the internet, from time to time, and I finally found her on a discussion board.” Her heart was racing. That was a half-cooked lie. Would it be enough?

  “Huh, how fortuitous,” Lydia said with a quizzical look on her face. “Go ahead. Sorry to interrupt you. I was just curious.”

  “Oh, it’s fine.” Anna couldn’t believe that her mother was letting her off that easy. She tried to calm herself down.

  “Where was I? Ah, yes, we were in Boston with Diane. Oh, Mom, you have to see her. She got so pretty, like a doll! Anyway, we are there, talking, and I started picturing all of us together—a beautiful day, just like today, sunny, with a nice breeze; a big picnic table on the front lawn; Frank is there with Sarah, Grandma Rose is there too, and Aunt Marlene, of course; and here comes Diane, she hugs her mother—like you said, it’s like you finished up my vision—they hug and all is forgiven, no need for words.”

  “Oh, I can almost see it, what a beautiful scene that would be.” For a moment, Lydia’s eyes were graced with a glimmer of joy. Anna knew right then that she had struck the right chord with her mother. This was what she had hoped for.

  “But Victor won’t…I just don’t think that he would…” Lydia now spoke slowly, as if thinking out loud. The light had abandoned her eyes, which now seemed to stare into an invisible abyss in front of her. She suddenly looked exhausted. “Your father won’t like this. He’s gotten more and more reclusive, you know. He still goes to church and talks to some people there, but I think it’s just a front, a character that he plays. He’s just not interested in anyone, I think. I can’t imagine that he would be the least excited about hosting a family gathering.”

  “But listen, Mom…” Anna felt success was quickly slipping away, soon to be out of reach. Desperation took hold of her.

  “No, you listen. The more I think about it, the less I like the idea. You figure that my mother would come with Marlene, and you’re right: I think she would. Well, your father hates her. Always has and always will. It will take him two minutes to start attacking her with his malicious, cynical remarks. Ah, such a delightful evening. And to have Victor sit down with Frank, and meet Sarah, his lovely fiancé—well, let me tell you something: that might just be a recipe for disaster. He could send that girl running for the hills.”

  Anna was swept by a torrent of irrepressible anger, and before she could get a hold of herself, she was already yelling at her mother. “He won’t drive anyone away—he doesn’t have that power, Mom. He only has the power that you give him. The power to abuse you, to insult you and belittle you in front of your kids—you gave that to him. You let him have it.”

  “You have no idea what you’re talking about. Jesus, stop this embarrassment at once. I thought I’d taught you to have more class than this. People are looking at us.”

  Anna darted glances left and right. An older female waiter carrying a wine bottle looked at her sideways. She didn’t look pleased. Anna lowered
her voice, but not her intensity.

  “Class? Yes, you taught me how to keep appearances, how to play a part as an extra in your husband’s story. I wish you had taught me real dignity, Mom, some self-respect. I had to look for that elsewhere. Thank God I didn’t become you.”

  A moment later, Anna was free of the anger that had possessed her, and she could see what she’d done. Not only she had messed up and put the entire mission at risk, but she had really hurt her mother. If only she could take back those cruel words.

  Lydia looked from side to side before speaking again in a subdued voice, her eyes glassy with unshed tears. “Now, you’ve said your piece. I’ve always admired your candor, but please be reminded of where we are and that you invited me here to have a good time. Let’s please drop this conversation for now. I didn’t come here to argue with you. Let’s enjoy this wine and try to have a pleasant talk.”

  “I’m sorry, Mom. I shouldn’t have said that. I’m really sorry.” She wanted to say more, but the words got stuck in her throat.

  It took another five or ten minutes for their conversation to regain a semblance of normalcy. They spent the rest of the afternoon discussing Frank and Sarah, Diane, the trip to Boston, and Michael, a carefully edited, innocent, dull version of it all, anyway. Not another word of substance or consequence was uttered.

  She had failed. On her way back to the house, she kept thinking how to explain to Frank and Diane that she had made a mess of everything. There was no good way of telling them. She would just come clean and take the blame. No excuses; there was dignity in that.

  Her mind was in turmoil. Like a good chess player facing a superior opponent, she wondered what price she or others might have to pay later for her unfortunate misstep. Would the entire plan have to be scrapped? Was there even a way forward from this point? Would Frank resort to some alternate, riskier strategy; perhaps one involving a direct confrontation with their father? It would be her fault if he did—that much she knew.

  Two hours later, at her place, Anna paced from side to side, recalling the conversation with her mother. She had to tell Frank. Who knows what dreadful nightmare she might have if she went to sleep with that worry hanging over her head? But she still had time. She tried to numb her mind watching her beloved travel series; then a standup comedy show—nothing worked. It got dark outside. She wouldn’t put it off any longer. It was time.

  Anna grabbed her phone and looked up Frank’s contact. Her finger was hovering over the dreaded green icon, a millimeter away from placing the call, when the phone rang, startling her so that she almost dropped the phone. It was her mother.

  “Hey, Mom, is everything all right?”

  “Everything’s fine, Anna. Why wouldn’t it be?” She lowered her voice. “Listen, against my better judgment I brushed the subject of having a small family gathering here with your father. I told him about Diane and everything. I don’t even know why I did it. I was expecting him to hate the whole idea, get angry, yell at me, burst into flames or something. Imagine my surprise when he said he loved the idea—loved it! Those were his words. Dear God, do I just not know the man at all anymore? Anyway, we are doing it. Can you believe it? I haven’t been this excited about anything in a very long time.”

  Anna was stupefied. It took her a good five seconds to be able to say anything. “Wow, Mom, that’s…amazing, and crazy, yes, that too—but wonderful, nonetheless!”

  “Yes, well, I’ll get on it right away. I’ll call Marlene—can’t wait to tell her. And Mom, I want to tell Mom too, tonight. I think Labor Day weekend would be our best bet. Everybody has that one extra day.”

  “But that’s just in a little over a week.”

  “That’s why we need to get started right away. Your job, Anna, is to make darn sure that Diane comes. And Frank and Sarah too. Oh, and Michael. Of course, you have to bring Michael! I want to meet him. Your dad too wants to meet him. He said so himself.”

  “You got it,” Anna said.

  “That’s what I wanted to her. Okay, I have to go.”

  “I love you, Mom.”

  “I know. I love you too.”

  Anna felt dazed as she ended the call with her mother. She was half expecting to wake up on the couch all of a sudden, but not this time—this was real. There was only one thing left to do now. She started typing, “Success. We are on. Labor Day weekend, that’s when it happens. Talk tomorrow.”

  She read the message twice. Her own words scared her—“that’s when it happens,” she had written. She didn’t change a thing, however; just sent the message. She had somehow succeeded, and should have been relieved, yet she couldn’t shake the feeling that their design already harbored some fatal flaw that would spell disaster in the end.

  CHAPTER XII

  Michael would always remember how gusty it was that Sunday afternoon when they arrived at the Goddards’ family house. Thick white clouds raced across the bright blue sky over the big, old farmhouse. The sight somehow seemed menacing to him, but perhaps he had been predisposed to feel that way by Anna’s stories about her father and her insistence that he bring his car so that he could leave anytime he wanted, should anything not be to his liking. He had followed Anna through a series of country roads to get there. Had Michael lost her trail, he would have never found the place on his own.

  They parked their cars, side by side, about a hundred feet from where a large outdoor dining table had been meticulously set up on the front lawn. Walking briskly toward them came a sophisticatedly dressed, delightful lady who could only be Anna’s mother. She came up and gave Anna a tender hug and a kiss before she flashed a big smile at Michael, extending her hand, “You must be Michael. I’m Lydia, Anna’s mother. I’m so glad you could come. Come, come, let’s get inside.”

  Anna’s hand felt cool in Michael’s as they followed Lydia; a chill spread through his body as the shadow of the old house eclipsed the sun. The wind howled, trees swayed, and languid creaky groans escaped from the weary bones of the abode.

  Lydia looked back at them. “Everybody else should be here around five, so we’ve got an hour to kill. Michael, over there sitting on the porch is Victor, Anna’s father. He’s been looking forward to meeting you. The two of you can get to know each other while Anna helps me in the kitchen.”

  “Sounds good,” said Michael, not meaning it at all. He was, however, to a certain degree, curious to meet this man, the architect of Anna’s miserable childhood. During the week leading to this day, as if preparing him for the encounter, Anna had related to him more and more stories about her father, and they just got darker and darker every time. They stole a glance at each other behind Lydia’s back. Anna’s expression was something like a warning. She appeared very tense all of a sudden.

  The house now loomed large in front of them, appearing both splendid and tired. It retained much of its old glory, but it bore unmistakable signs of wear and tear—must have been neglected for years. A two-story home painted mostly white, with a green roof. On the front facade, five windows of the same size and shape on the second floor, and a tiny window on top, presumptively one of those attics which, in movies, are always scary places.

  Climbing the steps to the house’s wrap around porch, Michael saw Victor Goddard, in the flesh, for the first time. He was an intimidating sight, and a handsome devil too, despite some visible signs of aging. Victor’s icy-blue eyes, fixed on Michael, and Victor’s sly little smile, unnerved Michael instantly.

  Victor rose from his chair and acknowledged his daughter with a nod and a fleeting smile. “Hi, darling, how are you?” He could have been reading from a teleprompter. It seemed as if the star performer playing the father in this scene had become sick at the last minute and replaced by an understudy who didn’t know his lines.

  “Hi, Dad,” Anna said in the same tone as a kid who has been forced to apologize.

  “Victor, this is Michael, Anna’s boyfriend,” said Lydia.

  “Ah, yes. You’re Anna’s boyfriend, huh?” Victor’s l
ow-pitched voice was imbued with the confidence of a lord who was dealing with peasants.

  “Yes, Mr. Goddard.” Michael glanced over at Anna, and her approving smile reassured him. “It is a pleasure to meet you, sir.” Michael extended his hand, which Victor met in a firm handshake. The man towered over him. He felt like a rabbit under the shadow of an eagle.

  “Welcome to our home, Michael. Do sit down. Let’s have a beer. Lydia, would you be a doll and bring us two cold ones?”

  “I’ll bring them,” said Anna. She and her mother went inside the house.

  Michael sat down across from Victor at a small table. “It’s a good-looking place you have here, Mr. Goddard,” he said to break the ice but hated the sound of his own voice—he always felt this way at his stupid fundraising galas, complimenting those VIP assholes whose boots he was paid to lick. Victor’s father had been one of them.

  “Just call me Victor. This house, yes, it’s something, isn’t it? And old too. I hear you’re a historian.”

  “On my best days.”

  “That’s an interesting comment.” Victor’s voice rippled with amusement; his eyes appeared to get even smaller, like a cyborg’s glittering blue orbs. “What are you on your worst days?” A smirk blossomed on his face.

  Perhaps, Michael should have dodged the question, but what the heck—he wasn’t going to tiptoe around the man. “A glorified librarian, to be honest.” Maybe too honest.

  Victor bent forward, his massive arms pressed firmly on the table, and looked him straight in the eyes. “Don’t put yourself down, or people around you will see you as an easy target.” For a moment there, Michael half expected Victor to call him “my young apprentice.”

  “Oh, it’s no big deal. I’ve always had a good sense of humor about myself.”