by Pat Conroy
“My mother didn’t leave my father,” I said, leaning closer to him. “So I learned how to treat a wife by watching how you treated Mom. I learned that it’s normal for a man to beat his wife, Dad. I learned that it’s normal for a man to beat his children, to brutalize his whole family anytime he felt like it, because he was stronger than any of them and because they couldn’t fight back and had no place to go. I learned everything there was to know about being a man from you, Dad, and I want to thank you for that. Because it made me want to be a man like your father, Amos. I want to be weak and gentle and kind to every creature on this earth. And, Dad, I would rather be dead than be the kind of man you taught me to be.”
“You think you’re better than me,” he said. “Your mother always thought she was better than me too, even though her parents made hillbillies look high class.”
“I don’t think I’m better than you,” I said. “I think I’m nicer than you, Dad.”
“I should have gone to talk to Luke,” he said. “I should never have come here. Luke would never had said such terrible things about his own father.”
“And he wouldn’t have agreed to go talk to Mom, either,” I said.
“You’ll still talk to her?” he asked.
“Yep,” I said. “I see a chance for you to learn something for the first time in your life. Who would have thought the old mountain gorilla would cry when his wife left him? And even if Mom leaves you, I see a chance for you to become a good father out of all this. And I wouldn’t mind having a father for the first time in my life.”
“I don’t like to ask people for anything,” he said.
“That makes it very difficult to give you anything, Dad,” I answered.
“Hey,” he said, “don’t forget it was me who gave you the gift of life.”
I roared. “Thanks tons,” I said.
26
I stood on the verandah of the Newbury mansion watching the moonlight ignite the marsh like some dream of altered gold. Reese Newbury answered my knock at the door and the moonlight did something quite different to his face. He had softened around the edges since I last had stood at his doorway. The pouches beneath his eyes had the look of exhausted luggage. But his eyes returned that same raw glitter of uncommon control. Those eyes were still the source of tremendous power in the leavened, pale-white body.
“I need to talk with my mother, Mr. Newbury,” I said.
He squinted in the light of porches and moons before he recognized me. “She’s been an angel, Tom. I don’t know what we would have done without her. Your mother’s an incredible woman, son. I hope you know that.”
“Yes, sir, I’ve always known that,” I said. “Would you tell her I’m down here?”
“Come in. Please come in,” he said, and I followed him into the hushed entranceway of the house.
“She’s with Isabel,” he whispered. “She barely leaves her side, even to eat. The doctor says it won’t be long now. The cancer has spread all . . . ”
He could not go on and he strangled on the words he was about to utter. As he fought for control, I could hear great clocks spooning out moments with metallic strokes, their long blades cutting through the silks of time. All the clocks struck nine as we stood in semidarkness and the somber tolling of every clock in every room of the house disowned the hour in the dumbstruck language of bells. I wondered if it was just in the house of the dying that you became so acutely aware of the presence of clocks.
“Why don’t you wait in my study upstairs,” he said. “It’s private and you and your mother can talk.”
“I know where it is,” I said as I followed him up the carpeted staircase.
As I sat in his study, I wondered if he had brought me to this room on purpose. But then, I figured that Reese Newbury had performed so many execrable acts in his life that he probably did not even remember slapping a twelve-year-old kid who had fought with his son. There were the same sterile rows of unread books and the map of the county studded with pins marking the land in his possession.
My mother entered the room and whispered, “Isabel would like to see you, Tom. She’s so pleased you came for a visit. Isn’t that sweet?”
Why Isabel Newbury would be pleased was a bright mystery to me, but my mother seemed delighted that Isabel even knew I inhabited the same planet she did. My mother held my hand and led me down the quiet darkened hallway.
“It’s right here,” my mother said, forgetting that I once helped cart a two-hundred-pound loggerhead turtle up to this very room.
But whatever ill feelings I harbored for Isabel Newbury vanished when I saw her cruelly wasted form propped up against a bank of pillows in her bed. I could hate somebody for my whole life and still pray they did not die like this. Her body had surrendered to a pearly withering. She shone with fever. There was a muscadine smell of death in the room, medicine and flowers and cologne distilled into a fragrance of bad wine.
“Your mother has been the only one, Tom,” she said. “All the others are afraid to see me.”
“That’s just not so, Isabel,” my mother said. “I just do what any friend would do. And you’ve got more cards and flowers than anyone could ever imagine.”
“I was mean to you and your family, Tom,” she said, the words coming slowly. “I’ve apologized to your mother a hundred times.”
“I’ve told you there’s nothing to apologize for, Isabel,” my mother said quickly. “I always considered you one of my good friends. We were both just busy raising our own families and didn’t get to see much of each other.”
“Your apology is accepted, Mrs. Newbury,” I said. “And it’s gracious of you to make it.”
“Tom, how rude!” my mother said.
“Thank you for accepting it,” Mrs. Newbury said. “I’ve been lying here for the past couple of weeks thinking about my life. There are some things I did that I can’t understand. I don’t know who the person was that did those things. She doesn’t seem related to me at all. It’s a shame you have to be dying to know all this.”
“Shoot, who says you’re dying, Isabel?” my mother said. “I still say you’re going to beat this thing and then go on a long cruise with Reese.”
“The only cruise I’ll be taking is down to Ogletree’s Funeral Home,” she answered.
“Don’t talk like that, Isabel,” my mother said, hiding her face in her hands. “Don’t talk about giving up. I want you to fight it.”
“Dying’s just the final phase of life. We all go through it, Lila,” Mrs. Newbury said. “It sure hasn’t been my favorite phase. I’ll grant you that.”
“How is Todd, Mrs. Newbury?” I asked.
“Todd?” she said. “Todd is like he’s always been. Selfish, spoiled. He married a sweet girl. A Lee from Virginia. He spends his spare time bullying her. He’s only been to see me twice since I’ve been ill. But he phones once a month whether it’s convenient or not.”
“He was down here last weekend, Tom,” my mother said to me. “You could tell his mother’s illness just breaks his heart. He loves you so much, Isabel. He’s like so many men. He just doesn’t know how to express it.”
“He expresses it eloquently,” she said. “He doesn’t come to see me.”
“You’re getting tired,” my mother said. “Say good night to Tom and I’ll tuck you in for the night.”
“Could you please get me some more ice water, Lila dear?” she said, motioning to the pitcher on her nightstand. “I’m so thirsty.”
“I’ll be right back,” said my mother.
As we heard my mother’s footsteps on the staircase, Isabel Newbury turned her dying, wasted eyes on me and said the words that would change my life forever.
“My husband is in love with your mother, Tom,” she said. “And I approve.”
“What?” I whispered, stunned.
“Reese needs taking care of. He simply would not be able to survive alone,” she said, as matter-of-factly as if she were discussing a change in the weather.
&nb
sp; “And your mother has been so kind to me,” she added. “I’ve come to love her very much.”
“Well, isn’t that grand?” I said. “Did you ever consider my father?”
“She’s told me all about your father,” she said. “I imagine you hate your father as much as she does.”
“No ma’am,” I said. “And I like him a million times more than I like Reese Newbury.”
“It’s been platonic,” she said. “I assure you of that. Your mother is probably not even aware of it.”
“Mrs. Newbury, how could you let a woman into your husband’s bed who couldn’t get into your fucking cookbook?” I asked.
“I don’t approve of vulgarity,” she said, weak-voiced and edgy.
“You have the nerve to call me vulgar, Mrs. Newbury?” I said. “You, who pimps for her husband on her deathbed.”
“I’m simply looking after my affairs,” she said. “I thought you should know. I didn’t wish this to come as a complete surprise.”
“Yeah, I hate surprises,” I said. “Does my mother know any of this?”
“No,” she said. “Reese and I have discussed it. We discuss everything.”
“Then tell Reese that he and my mother will marry over my dead body,” I said. “There’s a lot I can take in this world, but one of them is not being Reese Newbury’s step son. And the next is being Todd Newbury’s step-brother. What’s wrong with you? You’ve been shitting all over my family since I was born. Is this the ultimate gambit? Is this your final gesture of contempt?”
Together we heard my mother approaching the door again. Mrs. Newbury put a finger to her lips as my mother entered the room and poured a glass of ice water for her.
“Did you have a nice chat while I was gone?” my mother asked. “I’ve told Isabel all about you, Tom. She says that she’s never met a mother any prouder of her children and I guess that’s true. My children have always been my whole life to me.”
“Thanks for coming by, Tom,” Mrs. Newbury said, shaking my hand. “Please come back and visit soon.”
“I hope you start feeling better, Mrs. Newbury,” I said formally. “Please let me know if there’s anything I can do for you. Good night, ma’am.”
My mother and I sat opposite each other in the study while I considered the infinite possibilities I had of making a grinning ass out of myself. If my mother and Reese Newbury were signing valentines to each other over the recumbent body of his dying wife, then that was no business of mine, especially when the same wife seemed to be charmed by her generous, self-effacing role of matchmaker.
“Why isn’t she in the hospital, Mom?” I said, avoiding all issues for a moment. “She’s obviously dying.”
“She wants to die in the house where all her forebears have died,” my mother said. “She made the decision that she wants to die in her own bed.”
“What kind of cancer does she have?” I asked.
“It’s spread all over her body,” my mother said. “She began with cancer of the rectum.”
“Please, Mom,” I said. “Even God doesn’t have that good a sense of humor.”
“That’s one of the cruelest things I’ve ever heard anyone say,” my mother said, rising to make sure no one was listening at the door. “Isabel Newbury and I are very close friends, Tom, and I’ll not have you being disrespectful about her. She’s been very hurt that her best friends have practically abandoned her during her ordeal. Oh, they’ll come by once or twice a month and stay for an hour, but she can see how anxious they are to leave her bedside.”
“What’s truly surprising, Mom,” Isaid, “is that Lila Wingo, one of her worst enemies, is looking after her every single day and almost every night, too.”
“I’ve always said that bygones should be bygones. I’ve never been one to hold a grudge. This has all been so hard on poor Reese. He’s been so upset.”
“Good,” I said. “I’m delighted he’s upset. I’ve always thought you could measure the depth of your humanity by just now much you could hate Reese Newbury.”
“He’s a greatly misunderstood man,” she said.
“I think he’s very well understood, Mom,” I said. “Now if he gets rectal cancer, we’ll know that God indeed has a divine plan worked out for all of us.”
“I won’t have you talking ugly about the Newburys again, Tom,” she said furiously. “I mean that. They’re my closest friends in Colleton now. I know that must seem strange to you, but they’ve been almost pathetically grateful for the help I’ve been able to give them. Now, I’ve never been one to accept any gratitude for just doing my neighborly duty. I’ve always given freely of myself and asked for nothing in return. But since I’ve been helping them out, I’ve realized how profoundly lonely Reese and Isabel are. I mean that. They have no true friends as you and I understand the term. They just have people who want to be around them to take advantage of their money and social position. Of course, being the sophisticated couple they are, they can spot a phony a mile away.”
“I bet they can. Mirrors must drive them crazy,” I said. “Mom, I came here because Dad came to the house tonight.”
“I know that’s why you came,” she said. “I’ve been expecting you, Tom.”
“He says he’s sorry and he’ll do anything if you come back home,” I said, feeling strange using the awkward phrases of my father.
“I’ve wasted too many years of my life with your father,” she said. “Do you realize I never even loved him when we first got married?”
“He was served papers today, Mom,” I said. “I think those papers convinced him you were serious.”
“Reese and Isabel have let me use a little house they own over on Lanier Street. They’re not even charging me rent. Isn’t that the sweetest thing?” she said.
“About Dad,” I said. “What do you want me to tell him, Mom?”
“Tell him,” she said, rising up to her full height, “tell him that I’m sorry I ever met him and sorry I conceived children with him and it’ll be the happiest day of my life when I’m free of him forever.”
I said, “Are you sure you don’t want to phrase that more strongly?”
“What right have you to disapprove of my decision?” she said. “You used to beg me to divorce your father. What’s changed for you?”
“He’s become pathetic to me, Mom,” I answered. “I can’t help it. Every time I see him he strikes the deepest chord of pity in me. He has that unsurpassable aura of failure around him that he’s never been able to shake. He doesn’t even seem like my father to me. It’s more like he’s some crippled disfigured uncle that I visit once or twice a year on holidays.”
“So you don’t think I should leave him?” she asked.
“I think you should do exactly what you want to do,” I said as our eyes met. “I think you should do what will make you happy, Mama.”
“Do you really believe that?”
“Probably not, but they sound like the words I should say,” I said.
“Then I have your full support?” she asked.
“You both have my full support,” I said.
“Then you’ll agree to testify for me in court?”
“No, I will testify for neither of you in court,” I said.
“That’s what you consider full support?” she asked, one side of her face obscured by the shadow of the lamp.
“Mama,” I said, “I want you to listen to something. I’ve been damaged enough by this family. I’ve been hurt enough by growing up with you and Dad as my parents. But I’m an adult now, and if you don’t mind, I’d like to see you two end this marriage without any of my blood being sprinkled about the venue of the divorce. You and Dad are old enough to get a divorce without involving your children. I encourage you to do so.”
“You won’t testify that he beat me when you were a child?” she asked.
“No, I’ll say I don’t remember those times,” I said.
“I can understand why you might not remember those times,” she said furiou
sly. “Because they usually occurred when I was trying to pull him off you or Luke.”
“Mama, I know those things happened,” I said. “What I’m telling you is to try to protect us from it just this once more. It will be bad for us if we have to testify for or against either of you.”
“Well, I don’t need you,” she said. “Savannah has already said she’ll testify in court if I need her. She says I’ve been one of the most abused and exploited women she’s ever known and she’ll do anything to help me start a new life.”
“I’m sorry I can’t help you, Mom,” I said. “But someone’s got to be there to help Dad pick up the pieces when you’re gone.”
“Just like I had to pick up the pieces when he beat your face in when you were just a little boy,” she said.
“Mom,” I asked, “why do you blame me for the fact that Henry Wingo is my father? Why do you hold that against me?”
“I’ll only hold one thing against you,” my mother said. “I will always hold it against you that the one time I asked you for help, you refused to give it to me. I have a chance to be happy now for the first time in my life and you will not help me to achieve that happiness.”
“Mrs. Newbury told me just now that Mr. Newbury is in love with you, Mom,” I said, closing my eyes.
“She’s half delirious now,” she said. “She’s saying things, crazy things, all kinds of things that just aren’t making sense. But that’s the cancer in her. Reese and I just laugh when she starts to say those things to us. We don’t pay it a bit of mind.”
“Whatever you do is your own business,” I said. “And anything that makes you happy will make me happy. I promise you that. But I’d like you to promise me that you won’t screw Dad in the process.”
“I only want what I deserve,” she said. “What I’ve earned from the marriage.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of,” I said. “Mom, as I’ve been sitting here talking to you, my eyes keep moving to that map above your head. I saw it years ago when you brought me over here to apologize after my fight with Todd Newbury. Todd told me that the green pins marked the property that Reese Newbury owned and the red pins marked the property that he was trying to own. There’s all kinds of rumors going around that the federal government is coming into Colleton with a big project. Land speculators are everywhere. Folks might make a lot of money.”
