An Irreconcilable Difference

by Lynda Fitzgerald

  We were sprawled on the living room sofa when he said that, exhausted from a day of intense yard work. Darren was massaging my aching feet, which were propped in his lap.

  “There is, you know,” I answered, hoping he wouldn’t quit rubbing my feet if I disagreed with him. “We’d be living a lie. I don’t think either of us can do that for long.”

  “I’m not sure it’s worth it to live either way.”

  Darren had made too many remarks in this vein since he first told me about Russ. I didn’t think it was a play for sympathy. Darren wasn’t the type. I’m not even sure he realized what he was saying. It frightened me to hear it, but I didn’t know what to do about it. Finally some words came to me. “No, it probably doesn’t seem like it right now. I think it will. In time. You—care for Russ. You were honest about that, and I appreciate it. I don’t think living a lie would be fair to either of you. Or to me. I think we have to be whom and what we are, no matter how hard it is.”

  “What about the kids?”

  That was the worst of it. “There’s no way this is going to be easy on the kids, no matter how we handle it.”

  So we avoided it. Darren and I knew we were going to eventually file for divorce, but we found excuse after excuse to put it off. Because, like death, divorce is irretrievably final. Because it would hurt our children. We did discuss those children. Jana was married and settled and, while she might hate us both, I didn’t fear for her mental well-being.

  It was different with Greg. He was in college then, barely out of the familial nest. We didn’t want to put him through the strain of facing our divorce and all the revelations that would inevitably bring. At least that’s what we told ourselves.

  I assumed Darren and Russ continued their relationship, but Russ had been a close family friend for so long and they were so discreet that no one could have guessed their relationship had changed. Even I wouldn’t have noticed the subtle changes if I hadn’t known the truth, and I worked hard to have as little knowledge of it as possible.

  I hated Russ for a while longer than I hated Darren. For some reason, his betrayal stayed with me, irrational as that was. Intellectually, I knew that Russ deserved a bit of happiness. His wife, Judy, had died of cancer years ago after a long and particularly ugly battle. His eldest child, Janine, eighteen at the time of her mother’s death, had stunned us all by taking a fatal overdose of her mother’s sleeping pills a month later. Russ’s younger children, ten year old twins, went to live with their grandmother for a while after that while Russ tried to pick up the scattered pieces of his life. Trace and Terry were in college now. I didn’t know what, if anything, Russ had told them. There were still a lot of things Darren and I couldn’t—or didn’t—discuss.

  The phone rang, and I realized I was shivering. My bath water had long ago grown cold. I was tempted to ignore it—the phone. There was no ignoring the icy bathwater now that I was aware of it. But I was afraid to answer it. Afraid that it might be Darren or Jana or my mother or my father’s doctor or, lord, almost anyone. I might not want to talk to anyone, but at this point in my life, I had to be available to talk to everyone.

  I wrapped myself in my terrycloth robe and sprinted to the phone, catching it before the answering machine cut in.

  The voice on the other end was so faint I could barely make out the words at first. “…wanted to let you know Greg is here, Mrs. Graham.”

  I realized it was Diane Jarvis. “Diane, why are you whispering?” I asked before I could stop myself.

  “Greg’s in the bathroom. I didn’t want him to know I called you, but I was afraid you might be worried. He’s been pretty upset with all that’s going on.”

  “Thank you, Diane. I really appreciate you letting me know. I—“

  “Well, thanks for calling, Mr. Turner,” she said suddenly in, I thought, an overly-loud voice. “Dallas on Tuesday.”

  “Goodbye, Diane,” I said, and replaced the receiver.

  The phone didn’t ring again that night. I was foolish enough to feel grateful. You’d think I would have recognized it for what it was: a temporary calm between two stormy fronts. I did give Mother a quick call to reassure her that we were all still alive. She got the five cent version of the evening’s events. The unabridged version would have to wait until I felt less abused.

  The quiet lasted two days. Greg didn’t come home that night nor, I realized when I saw his undisturbed bed, had I expected him to. When I went to work the next morning, he was nowhere to be seen. Sam told me he hadn’t shown up. “Guess he decided working here wasn’t a good idea,” he said.

  I said nothing.

  I spent what was becoming a routine visit with my father. I exchanged a few pleasant words with his doctor, but my heart wasn’t in it. I’m sure he thought I was upset about dad’s unchanged condition, and I wasn’t willing to enlighten him. It was as if I were waiting for the other shoe to drop—or at least, one of the other shoes.

  Which it did the next afternoon.

  Chapter Nineteen

  “For godssake, Lou, get over to Jana’s. Greg’s there and there’s been some kind of fight,” Darren’s voice exploded in my ear.

  The panic in his voice frightened me even more than his words, which were frightening enough. I was cleaning the carpets, dressed in my rattiest clothes. Still, I didn’t take a moment to change. I grabbed my purse and was out the door in sixty seconds.

  A lot of what happened I learned later. Apparently, Greg showed up at Jana’s while Bob was home. Jana and Greg got into a vicious argument about Darren, and Greg began hurling insults at his sister. Nothing new, but nothing Bob had ever witnessed. When Bob tried to intervene, Greg turned on him and started throwing punches, and Bob, nice guy that he was, let Greg make a real mess of his face before he finally returned a single punch that knocked Greg unconscious. In a panic, Jana called Darren on his cell phone, and he called me. By the time I arrived, Greg had regained consciousness and was once again mouthing off.

  “What the hell is he doing here,” I heard Greg demand as I let myself in the front door. As Darren was only seconds in front of me, I assumed Greg was talking about him.

  Jana answered. “I called him.”

  “What for?” he sneered. “Afraid I was going to kill your precious husband?”

  “I was afraid Bob wouldn’t be able to stop me from killing you.”

  Greg ran his tongue gingerly over his split lip. “I was holding my own.”

  “Sure you were,” Jana said bitterly, “as long as you were the only one swinging. I can’t believe you, Greg. What in the hell has gotten into you?”

  I stepped into the kitchen doorway and looked at the carnage that used to be Bob’s handsome, gentle face. Both eyes were discolored and appeared to be swelling shut. There was a cut beside his mouth that was still seeping blood. “What happened here?” I demanded, causing Greg to spin toward the door.

  He shrugged, his face sullen. Bob looked at the floor. In shame? It was Jana who said, “Jerko here came in raving about you and dad and about how awful you were. I told him he was an idiot and he started calling me names and—” She broke off and walked over to Bob, putting her arm around his waist before continuing. “And Bob let him beat up on him until he went totally crazy. He only hit him to shut him up.”

  Her voice was defensive. Did she think I would blame her or Bob? Absurd. I knew Bob would never fight willingly. I’d seen him trap a spider in his hands and carry it outside to avoid hurting it. The killer instinct wasn’t only dormant in him, it was non-existent.

  “Greg was out like a light,” Jana continued. “I didn’t know what to do, so I called daddy.”

  “Like he’s going to do anything,” Greg sneered.

  “I was hoping he could get you under control,” Jana said angrily. “You’re out of your mind, the way you came barging in here yelling. Thank God the kids aren’t here. What if they had seen what happened? Can’t you ever think about anything except your own little ego?”

&nbs
p; “I was thinking about something else. I was thinking about my screwed up parents.”

  I saw both Darren and Bob tense, but Jana was on a roll now. She was fed up. She let go of Bob and went to stand in Greg’s face. “It’s not your parents who are screwed up, little brother. It’s you. You know, the way you’re defending your virility, I have to wonder if you really have any.”

  Greg flushed, and his face twisted into a furious grimace. He started to raise his hand, although whether to strike Jana or push her out of his way, I don’t know.

  Darren grabbed him from behind so quickly none of us saw it coming. He spun Greg around. “You want to fight someone, bud?”

  I tried to pull them apart. “Darren.”

  He barely spared me a glance. “Stay out of it, Lou. I mean it. This little boy wants to pick a fight, but he doesn’t have the guts to fight the person he’s really pissed at.” He looked Greg up and down. “So you want to fight? Let’s do it. Outside. One on one.”

  Greg shook off his hand. “Get your hands off me, you—you— Don’t you touch me. I’m not going to fight you. I don’t fight—fairies.” He stalked across the kitchen and stood with his back turned, his shoulders hunched.

  Darren froze, staring at him for a time, his face a screen across which his emotions played clearly. Then, he turned and walked out the door.

  I stood for a long moment looking after him. It was everything I had feared and worse. Darren already despised himself. He didn’t need anyone cheering him on.

  I turned back to Greg. He, too, was watching the doorway where his father disappeared. He met my gaze for only an instant, but then dropped his. Jana and Bob were watching me. I was almost too angry to speak, but not quite. “You’re despicable,” I spit out. “I’m ashamed to admit you’re my son.”

  Darren was gone when I reached the driveway. That worried me. I wanted to talk to him, but I was torn between trying to find out where he’d gone and giving him space and privacy. It struck me then for the first time that it was probably Russ who should console him rather than me. And I needed my mother.

  * * * * *

  “Bob didn’t deserve that,” Mother said, as I sipped my now-cool tea.

  She had not only been home when I arrived, but had already heard the story from Jana, who called her as soon as I left her house. Information in my family travels faster than across the Internet.

  “No, he didn’t.”

  “He was here, you know.”

  I looked up, surprised. “Bob?”

  “Greg.” She said the name with distaste. “Earlier. Came in ranting about what a sicko his father was. I tried to play the understanding granny, but he didn’t want to be consoled. He wanted someone to acknowledge his grievance. Finally I told him to grow up.” She smiled. “Shot out my front door hell-bent on making someone else miserable. Too bad he picked on Jana. And Bob. Landscapers develop some pretty impressive muscles,” she finished with a chuckle.

  “It’s not funny,” I said, remembering the damage that had been done to Bob and Greg’s faces.

  “In ten years it will be,” she retorted, unimpressed at my censure. She eyed me. “This will pass, Lou.”

  “I don’t know if it will or not, mom. You didn’t see them.”

  She nodded, thoughtful. “Darren is paying the price.” She sipped her tea. “But it’s his price to pay. Not yours.”

  I looked at her, surprised. “How can you say that? He’s my husband. Well,” I amended before she could correct me, “my almost ex-husband. And those are our children.”

  She nodded. “Unfortunately, they’ll pay a price, too, but it seems to me you’re trying to pay everybody’s price for them. You’ve paid yours, Lou. Let them have a turn.”

  It sounded to me like she was preaching selfishness. “I have to help them—”

  “Like you’ve been doing? How is it working so far?”

  That left me without a word to say. It was not working well. Not well at all. Jana’s husband had a bashed-in face, my son was in a murderous rage, and his father…. I shuddered. Maybe it would have been better if we had told them right away. Maybe—

  “Don’t go second guessing yourself now,” she said, following the train of my thoughts with the ease of long practice. “You did what you thought was best. For everyone.”

  She got up and poured us another cup of weird herb tea as I thought up arguments. When she sat down again, she rested her elbows on the table and propped her chin on her hands. “You have to let this go, Lou. Let them deal with it now. You’re taking too much on yourself again. You have to cut loose, have some fun—”

  Of all the ridiculous remarks. “If this is about me dating—”

  “It’s not about dating,” she bit out. Then she smiled again. “It’s about letting some fun back into your life.” She reached over and stroked the icy hand that was clutching my teacup. “You need to laugh more. You need to start seeing the humor in life again.”

  “I don’t see anything particularly humorous about life at the moment,” I said, my voice sullen.

  “I know you don’t. That’s because you’re so tunnel-visioned about Darren that you can’t see the life beyond it. I know,” she said, sitting erect. “Let’s go out to dinner. You can drive my car.”

  I felt sulky. “I’m not hungry, and I don’t know how to drive a stick shift.”

  “You’ll be hungry by the time we get there, and I’ll teach you how to drive it,” she said, standing and taking my teacup from me. “It’s easy.”

  “I’m not dressed for it,” I said with a glance down at my sweatshirt and jeans.

  “You look fine, but I could loan you something.”

  God forbid. “No, Mother—“

  “Come on. It’ll be fun.”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Lou, please.” She looked at me, her eyes pleading. “For me.”

  Reluctantly, I agreed. I knew she was manipulating me. I knew her “for me” was really a “for you,” but I’d been through too much that day to fight very hard. How bad could it really be? We’d get in her car. I’d strip her gears within two blocks, and we would come back here to call a mechanic and fix ourselves something to eat.

  “Get your purse,” she said as I started out of the room. “You’ll need your driver’s license.”

  “I don’t need to drive, Mother.”

  “Purse,” she said, pointing.

  With a deep sigh, I picked up my purse from where I’d dropped it on the kitchen table and followed her out the front door.

  I felt a moment of real fear as I climbed into the driver’s seat. I really didn’t want to strip her gears. The little car, a far cry from its economical predecessor, cost a bundle. I listened carefully as she explained the clutch and gears. An “H.” That didn’t sound so hard. I started to turn the key.

  “The clutch, Lou,” she said, laughing already. “Put in the clutch.”

  It took only three tries to back out of the driveway without stalling. I made it a whole block without incident other than a jerking motion that threatened to rip our internal organs to shreds. After a few blocks, I thought I was beginning to get the hang of it. Mother opened her window, and the wind blowing through my newly coiffed hair felt wonderful. I was ridiculously proud of myself, chugging along the streets of her neighborhood in her lime green Volkswagen. I was doing it. I was driving a stick shift.

  We came to a major intersection. I downshifted into second, and then brought the car to a smooth stop, feeling like Mario Andretti. “Which way?”

  “Left. To the interstate.”

  “The interstate? Where are we going?”

  “Athens,” she answered, laughing again. “There’s this wonderful little barbecue place near the University.”

  While I was digesting that, the light changed. I crept along, trying to think of an excuse not to get on the interstate. Her car might be expensive, but it seemed small and flimsy. I didn’t relish being crushed like a bug by an eighteen wheeler. The double ent
endre didn’t amuse me a bit.

  “Chicken,” she said from the passenger seat.

  “I’m not chicken,” I said, smiling in spite of myself, “but there are plenty of perfectly good barbecue places in Atlanta.”

  She flapped her elbows. “Cluck. Cluck.”

  I looked over at her. Her grin, like her enthusiasm, was infectious. “Okay, lady. You asked for it.”

  I turned the car onto the interstate and pretty much floored it. As I zoomed up the ramp, I felt like I was taking off at Hartsfield International. It was exhilarating, nothing even remotely like taking the same ramp in my oversized box of a car. By the time I realized she was yelling, “Fourth gear, Lou. Put it in fourth,” I was laughing aloud.

  “God, this is fun,” I yelled back, as I ground the car into the higher gear.

  * * * * *

  She was the model dinner companion. It was no wonder she had so many friends. Her conversation was light and varied and interesting. As I drove back to Atlanta, I realized we’d had too few occasions with only the two of us, and I vowed to remedy that, or at least as much as her full dance card would allow. I didn’t go in when we got to her house. Instead, I hugged her in the driveway. “You’re the best mother in the world.”

  “No big challenge with a daughter like you,” she said with equal parts embarrassment and pleasure. “You’ll be all right?”

  “I hope so. Greg’s been staying at Diane’s, I think. I hope it continues.”

  She nodded. “You know I’m a phone call away.”

  “I know.” After another quick hug, I climbed into my own stodgy car and headed home, daydreaming as I did about trading it in on something more fun. Not a bug. I couldn’t copy my mother that blatantly. Maybe a little convertible of some kind.

  The house and yard were completely dark when I arrived. Of course, when I’d fled out the door at two that afternoon, I’d given no thought to when I’d be back. I really would have to get Darren to hook the floodlights up to a timer.

  As I inserted my key in the lock, the hair on the back of my neck stirred. Someone was standing behind me.