by Maggie Marr
“What the hell, Lorraine? I told you I’m going to finish watching this game. There’s one inning left. It’s my damn house and my damn cook and my damn food. I’ll be in when I’m damn well ready.”
Tara ducks her head as though each word is a smack. I squeeze her hand. She swallows and I see she’s holding back tears. She’s sad for her family. Her parents are completely unhappy with each other and it’s obvious. I know from experience that the things you ignore as a family become apparent when there’s someone new in the room. Fresh eyes make it impossible to ignore what we often choose not to see.
“I’m sorry,” she whispers.
“Don’t be.” I walk with her out of the TV room and down another long hallway. “You’ve met my family, right? You know we’re nuts.”
She smiles. I stop and look at her. I press my fingers beneath her chin and tilt her head toward mine. We kiss, and this kiss is meant to reassure her and make her feel loved and cherished. I want to give her the love she needs, the attention she craves, and the reassurance that I will never judge her simply on the amount of money she makes. She steps away and I glance past her.
Lorraine watches us again, this time from a doorway at the end of the hall.
“Come into the dining room,. Chef says dinner is ready. I’ve let Dennis know.”
The table is long and imposing and meant to be just that way. The three of us sit at one end, leaving the head of the table open for whenever Dennis cars to dine.
“I’m sure your father will join us when he can.”
Dennis doesn’t join us. An hour later we are completing our meal when he pops into the dining room to tell us the baseball game has ended and he’s heading out to his meeting.
“Good to see you again, John. Don’t get up.”
“Daddy, it’s Jake,” Tara says softly.
I stand and shake his hand.
“I’m sure we’ll see you again. You know, as long as our girl doesn’t walk in on you banging your assistant against your office wall.”
He slaps me on the shoulder as though he’s just told the best joke, but he hasn’t. He’s just told the story of the worst thing that has ever happened to his daughter and used it like a punch line to a pathetic joke.
“Thank you for dinner.” I sit down, because in this moment those words are the only polite thing I can think to say. What I really want to do is tell this guy that he’s a complete and utter asshole and that he’s done nothing but embarrass his wife and daughter since I arrived. I don’t say any of that because I’m Tara’s guest and I don’t want to rock the world that she and, more so, her mother, inhabit.
I flash Tara a look. I want her to know that I see her, that I love her, and that I know what a jerk her father is. That her father’s inability to be polite, kind, or loving, doesn’t impact my feelings for her. If anything, Dennis’s behavior makes me more protective of Tara.
“Bye, peaches.” Dennis bends down and plants a kiss on Tara’s cheek. She forces a smile to her face and pushes her chicken around her plate.
“Bye, Daddy.”
In that moment, I see the little girl Tara was once upon a time. The child that was ignored by her father as he dashed off to his business ‘meetings’. How he never noticed her growing, or praised her for anything. How he pointed out her flaws over and over and over again. I see that little girl and I understand why Tara fights for the truth and to be heard and why she needs to be seen. I also suddenly understand why she dated McDouchey for so fucking long.
“I’ll be back late.” Dennis’s spits these words toward Lorraine. No good bye, no term of endearment, no kiss on the cheek. Just a quick bark and a fast exit.
Tara’s mom doesn’t cover her emotions quite so easily this time. Pain lives in her eyes.
A memory floods my mind. The story of her and her marriage. Why three years ago she met with me. She’d not slept with her husband in nearly a decade. They shared a giant home, a daughter, and nothing more. She didn’t leave him. She still loves him. While that love may be weathered, and bitter, and filled with a recalcitrant rage, it’s still there on her face, in her eyes, as she watches her husband leave for what could be the millionth time in her life.
“Coffee?” she asks, and being the perfect hostess covers her sadness with a smile.
I nod, as does Tara.
“Excellent, let’s have it in the blue room.”
***
“You never lived here.”
Tara shakes her head. “We had a much smaller place in Calabasas when I was growing up, but then one of Daddy’s deals took off and he wanted this as an investment.” We walk down a third hallway toward the blue living room, this one more intimate, according to Tara’s mom.
“The house seems so big.”
“It is. Mom hates it. Dad travels all the time.”
“It would seem so—”
“Lonely?”
I nod.
“I asked Mom about that once. Right after they moved in.”
“And what’d she say?”
“She asked me if I wanted to get a mani-pedi.” Tara smiles. “Our family isn’t big on discussing emotional issues.”
“Maybe that’s why you need to.”
“I’m certain that’s why I need to discuss things and find the truth,” she says. “They’ve taught me a lot about what it means to have a good marriage and a good relationship by showing me what I don’t want to have. I thought I’d learned all that, but then with Greg?” She shakes her head and sighs. “He taught me that I don’t know nearly as much as I think I do, and that I need to always listen to my little voice. When it feels like something is off, it usually is.” Her brilliant blue eyes stare into mine. “I can’t pretend everything is okay when it isn’t.”
Her words hold so much meaning not just for her, but for me, and for us.
“They both seem so…so sad.” Her voice is soft.
“You can’t fix them.”
A tiny smile curves over her lips. “Your fancy therapist tell you that?”
I return Tara’s gentle smile with my own. “Just one of the things my fancy therapist has told me.”
We enter the blue living room. And while it may be more intimate than the yellow living room, I wouldn’t say it’s cozy. Plaid. Lots and lots of plaid, with dark wood and paintings of people on horses, with hounds and red jackets.
“I don’t think I’ve actually ever sat in this room,” Tara says, sitting on the couch.
A tray with coffee and cups is already on the table in front of the couch.
“We don’t have to stay if you don’t want to. We can go back to my place and eat ice cream out of the carton. I’ll even make you coffee.”
Tara smiles at my suggestion and whispers in my ear. “As different as I want my life to be from this one and as different as I am from my mom, and as much as I don’t understand, she’s still my mom. I want her to be happy. I wish she’d just take the leap and leave. I think she’d be much happier on her own.”
I can’t tell Tara that Lorraine thinks that too, and that she stays simply because she’s scared that Tara won’t love her if she leaves.
Tara’s phone buzzes and she slips it from her pocket. “I’ll be right back.” She jumps up, presses her phone to her ear, and darts out of the room.
“You find my life pathetic?”
I turn to my left and Lorraine stands by my side.
“No, I…I think Tara worries about you.”
Her eyes narrow. “I worry about her.”
She sits on the couch beside me and pours herself a cup of coffee.
“She told me you had no idea about the article, that you didn’t participate.”
“She told you it was me?”
“No, but I know you, so I knew who she was writing about before she did.” She lifts an eyebrow. “Don’t worry, I didn’t say a word. I can’t really, now can I?”
Relief floods through me, but I can’t keep this secret forever, can I?
“You ca
n’t tell her,” Lorraine says. “It would ruin my relationship with her and that’s all I have left in my life. My marriage—” she glances into her cup of coffee, pauses and her gaze darts back up to me—“well, you’ve seen what my marriage is like.”
She leans closer to me, and her gaze locks to mine. “You’ve given up your Wonderfuck ways?”
Her eyes penetrate me and I’m not certain she’s asking for herself or for Tara’s well-being. “Or could you be convinced, that Wonderfucking is something you should resume?”
My stomach lurches. The thought of Lorraine, now, as Tara’s mother. My teeth grind together.
“I…no……no, that isn’t a part of my life any longer.”
“That’s good to know.” She sips her coffee. “Although I did enjoy our time together.”
“Jake, are you ready to go?” Tara stands near the doorway.
“Tara, come have some coffee before you leave,” Lorraine says.
“Can’t. Just got a call from work. Warren needs me for a story.”
Lorraine rises and walks to Tara. She pulls her into a hug. I stand on the other side and watch. Her mother shoots me a look, one that seems to say, ‘don’t make me tell her the truth.’
“I love you, Mom. Thank you for dinner.”
We walk to the front door. Lorraine pulls me into a hug. “Be good to my girl,” she whispers into my ear.
I glance at Tara, who is on the far side of the entryway pulling on her jacket. She hitches her purse over her shoulder.
“Thank you for dinner,” I say.
I open the door for Tara and suck in the night time air. We walk down the stairs holding hands, finally free from her parent’s unhappy home.
Chapter Nineteen
“This puppy thing has gotten a little out of control.”
Rachel pulls a sheet of paper that has been folded into a perfect square from her purse. “Take a look at this.” She unfolds the paper and hands it to me.
A hand-drawn picture under the words, perfect puppy meets your perfect girl.
“Smart kid,” I say.
Rachel plucks the picture from my fingers. “I think someone’s giving her instructional tips on how to emotionally blackmail her mother.”
Rachel narrows her eyes at me and I give her my I’m-totally-innocent-face.
“How many times do I have to say this, I cannot handle a dog.”
“What if I hired a trainer and someone to walk the dog twice a day?”
Rachel closes her eyes and sighs. “That would be helpful, but what about the middle of the night when she’s whining, or vomits, or needs to be let out? Jake, we’re not home enough for a dog. I’m gone from 7 a.m. to 5 p.m. almost every day. Some days even longer than that because Lily and I come over here to hang out with Mom. If anyone should have a dog it’s you.”
Rachel glances toward the backyard where Lily throws a tennis ball and Jango bolts across the yard to retrieve it. “But seems like you may already have one.”
“Every kid needs a pet.”
“A goldfish would be easier.”
“You can’t snuggle a goldfish.”
“Says the guy who tried to cuddle mine when he was three years old.”
“Cleopatra looked lonely, I thought she would like it if I petted her.”
“So much trauma where pets are concerned.”
Rachel stuffs the note in her purse. “The guest room is finished. How did the garage go today?” she asks, changing the subject.
“Still have three boxes, but I’m nearly done.”
I glance around the living room. Rachel has packed up everything but three family pictures on the walls. All the knick-knacks have been removed from the furniture and the built in book case. “Has Mom said anything to you about the house looking different?”
“Only how clean it is.”
“I didn’t realize how cluttered this place was. It actually looks really good without all the stuff.”
“Which brings me to my next question,” Rachel says. “What are we going to do with this place?”
“I thought you and Lily would move in.”
“Here? You want me and Lily to live here?”
“It’s perfect.”
“Uh, not perfect. She’d have to change schools. It’s completely inconvenient for my work. No, not moving in here.”
“Well we can’t sell it.”
“Why not?”
“Because it’s the house we grew up in.”
“Jane’s parents just sold their house.”
My heart squeezes. I glance at Rachel and she looks up from her purse at me. “Sorry,” she mumbles. “I thought you knew.”
I didn’t know and somehow the idea of Susie’s childhood home not being her family’s feels both like a kick in the chest and a release.
“It’s okay. They always wanted to move out to the desert.”
“That’s what Jane said.” Rachel lifts her purse and glances around the living room. “This place can’t sit here empty and Mom won’t be moving back in so—”
“Okay now you just sound mean.” I walk toward the back sliders.
“Not mean, just realistic. There’s a difference you know,” Rachel calls toward my back.
I say nothing. This isn’t a decision we have to make today. We haven’t even heard from the residential facility where Mom is wait-listed. There’s really no reason to discuss what to do with the house.
“Hey.” Tara wraps her arm around my waist and smiles. I brush a kiss over her lips. Lily lifts the tennis ball and throws it into the pool, and Jango runs and jumps into the deep end.
“Not quite the beach,” Tara says. “But she seems to love it.”
Jango swims to the stairs in the shallow end and climbs out. She holds onto the ball, and Rachel steps out the back door just as Jango gives a giant shake. Water bullets at Rachel and she sputters.
“Reason 347 why I don’t want a dog!”
She covers her face with her arm. Too late. She is pretty sopped with smelly dog water. Tara does her best not to laugh, but I don’t even try to pretend.
“Mommy, don’t say that,” Lily wails. Her gaze goes from Rachel to me. “Please Mommy, please, a dog is all I want for my birthday.”
Lily drops to her knees and wraps her arms around Jango’s wet neck.
“Great,” Rachel mumbles. “Now we both smell like wet dog.”
Rachel wipes water from her face and shakes her arms. “No way, Lily. Not this year.”
Lily turns her head toward me, still hanging on to Jango. “Uncle Jake, you promised.”
“You promised?” Rachel turns to me and creases her eyebrows. “You promised you’d get her a dog?”
“No, I promised I’d convince you that she should have a dog.”
“Giant fail Uncle Jake, giant fail.” Rachel turns to Lily. “Come on bean, we have to get home. There’s summer class in the morning.”
“Can’t we wait until Grandma gets up from her nap?”
“Go on and check, she might be up.” Rachel says.
Lily scoots by her and into the house.
“Plus grab a towel from the hall closet and wipe your face and arms.”
I’m way too familiar with the look Rachel shoots me when Lily goes into the house. She walks toward me, droplets of water still glistening on her forehead and cheeks. She lowers her voice to a threatening tone. “So listen, buddy, you’re getting Lily a dog because I refuse to be the evil mommy who never let this kid have a pet, but here is the deal. You are going to take this dog during the day, got it? Except for weekends. We get weekends.”
“We have a dog with a visitation schedule?” I tease.
My annoyed sister ignores me and keeps talking. “You will take and keep the dog any time we’re not around, basically any time I tell you to. You will hire a dog walker and a trainer. Got it? I am not going to rain on Lily’s parade, but you’re going to be responsible for this circus, like the guy who walks behind the elephants at the end of the p
arade.”
“Done.” I smile. I know a good deal when I hear one, and any deal that gets Rachel to agree to a dog for Lily is a good one, no matter how much work it involves for me.
Rachel doesn’t smile back because she knows this is a win for me. I have no problem hiring an army of dog service people to get Lily what she wants because I’ll do nearly anything to make my niece happy.
“Good to see you, Tara.”
Rachel leans closer to her. “I don’t know how you put up with this guy but it’s always good to see you.”
“Sorry about Jango,” Tara says.
“No worries.” Rachel hitches her thumb my direction. “I blame him.”
She finally shoots me a grin to let me know she’s not completely pissed at me. “I’ll see you later this week?”
“Of course.”
“Don’t forget next Saturday. Party starts at two but—”
“You need me by noon. Eleven if possible.”
“Absolutely right.”
“When can she get the dog?” I ask.
“After the party. I can’t watch twenty kids, forty adults, and a dog. You can take her to the shelter on Sunday after the party.”
“I won,” I whisper to Tara as Rachel walks away.
“I heard that,” Rachel calls from the doors. “And you didn’t win by the way. I got everything I wanted when it comes to this dog.”
I frown. This is true. She probably even got more. Rachel waves at us and heads up the stairs toward Mom’s room to see if she’s awake, and to collect Lily.
“Having fun?” I pull Tara in for a kiss.
“I always do with your family. Was it nice growing up with so much love?”
I tilt my head. Love? Was there a lot of love? I guess there was. Aside from Dad having his affairs and Mom throwing him out. Until he came back. And before it got really bad, yeah, there was a lot of love.
“Yeah,” I say, and let my gaze skim the backyard with the pool and the trees, and the clubhouse in one of the trees. “Yeah, it actually was.”
***
“Richard, did you bring the pretty lady who is going to help with Rachel?”
Mom walks down the stairs from her bedroom with Tatianna behind her. Jango waits patiently at the bottom of the stairs, her tail wagging. She’s a big fan of Mom’s and the feeling is mutual.
