“Get up now, Matty!” called Liddy, as Cal picked up a pair of Matty’s smelly socks and threw them at him. “We’re opening Cal’s presents! And put your dirty clothes in the hamper! It’s not fair to Lucia to leave them lying around!”
Exclamations over, she grabbed Cal’s hand and they exited before Matty could respond. In truth, Liddy had little hope of a change in Matty’s slovenly behavior. Despite her constant reiteration that Lucia was a valued member of the family and should be treated as such, Matty treated Lucia like his servant. As Liddy scrabbled around every morning, retrieving underpants and scrunched-up tissues from his bedroom floor and wiping blue globs of inexpertly sprayed shaving foam off the bathroom walls, it was small consolation that he treated her in exactly the same way.
“Shall we start?” she said, and Cal and the dog yelped with excitement. Liddy handed Cal a large box, glamorously wrapped by Lucia, which contained a wooden construction set with mini-lathe. Cal examined it curiously; he was genuinely intrigued, it seemed, at the prospect of making a decorative candle holder.
Matty then sloped out of his room with a brown paper bag, a packet of Starburst stuck to it with duct tape, which he handed ceremoniously to Cal. Inside was a slightly tatty wrestling magazine, but Cal’s eyes lit up.
“It’s your best one,” he said, and Matty nodded and replied, “That’s why I want you to have it,” and the two brothers hugged before chasing after Coco, who had stolen the Starburst.
At this moment, Liddy’s phone beeped. She looked down at the text and then over at Matty.
“It’s your father,” she said slowly, crossing to the doorway to buzz Peter into the lobby. “Do you know why he’s here?”
Matty’s jaw suddenly set and a complicated expression of anger and guilt rippled across his face. Liddy’s heart sank. She knew he had done something he regretted.
The elevator doors opened and Peter appeared. He started when he saw Liddy in her bathrobe. It had fallen off one shoulder and she was conscious that his eyes were drawn to the line of her slender neck.
“How’s Rose?” she asked. Peter replied, somewhat distractedly, that Rose was doing well, but she had already watched every Turner Classic Movie and there were still four months to go. Then he looked back at Liddy and this time he kept his eyes fixed on hers.
“What’s going on?” he said.
“I don’t know,” she replied simply. “Did Matty make an arrangement with you?”
“Yes. He told me he was spending today with me.”
They both turned and looked at Matty, who was curled up on the sofa with his eyes closed, as if that would make him invisible. Cal grabbed his new lathe and scurried into his bedroom.
“It’s Cal’s birthday,” said Liddy.
“Of course,” said Peter, looking at the balloons.
“We’re having a party at the zoo this afternoon. Cal chose the jungle adventure package.”
“I don’t want to go,” called Matty, though haltingly.
“So you sneaked behind your mother’s back and lied to me? Get over here, now,” commanded Peter. Matty, unused to this tone from his father, shuffled over and stood close to Liddy, although it had been her he wanted to hurt.
She rested her hand on his shoulder.
“I thought you’d enjoy it, son. Remember the times we went to the zoo? You used to love it. We collected a jar full of flattened pennies.”
Outside, the rain was sputtering to a halt.
“But I can’t force you to go, if you really don’t want to,” she said, resigned, and she looked old all of a sudden. While in the gray light Rose would have been all Dutch Masters softness and curly gray-blond hair, Liddy, with her pale skin and her angular grace, was a woman painted by Modigliani.
“I’m sorry, Liddy,” Peter said. “I had no idea. I should have remembered.”
Matty suppressed a triumphant grin as he knelt down and started putting on his shoes. Peter turned toward the door—
But then he turned back.
“Matthew, you’re going to your brother’s birthday party, and that’s it.”
“What?”
What? thought Liddy, thrilled to glimpse once more Peter’s quiet authority, his blithe confidence, his shabby chic, in fact all the things she had been attracted to, and which had disappeared the day she had left him.
“I’m coming too. If that’s all right with you, Liddy.”
“Of course!”
“And you can keep those shoes on, my boy, because we’re taking that dog out for a long walk first.”
Matty’s face narrowed into an arrow of fury. He fired it.
“Mom’s fed up with me already. She wants to send me away to camp for the summer,” he hissed.
“You’ve been begging me to go!” said Liddy, her composure finally faltering. “And last year you begged Rose to go. I’m sorry, Peter, with everything that’s been going on, I made a . . . unilateral decision.”
Peter fell silent for a moment. Up to this point, he had not even considered the impending summer vacation, although he dimly recalled Rose having mentioned it. After a rapid analysis of the different variables, however, he found Liddy’s solution to be the correct one.
“You’re a lucky boy. I loved camp when I was a kid. Knowing your mom, she’ll have found the best for you. I’m sure it’s very expensive. Have you said thank you?”
“It’s only if it’s okay with you and Rose,” said Liddy. “We can visit on the family days.”
Matty was confused. He had anticipated a vociferous and lengthy disagreement, but had forgotten that without Rose to offer an alternative view, his father’s default parenting setting was “hands-off.”
“It’s okay,” Peter said. “Go and get your coat.”
Matty pulled away from them slouchily.
“Huh,” he muttered. “I’d go anywhere to get away from all this shit.”
“Matty—” said Peter, his temper suddenly rising.
“Leave it,” whispered Liddy, resting her hand on Peter’s arm. He nodded.
“Right. Heel!” he called to both boy and dog, and Liddy smiled.
The elevator doors closed behind them, and in the reflection, Liddy saw that the clouds outside had disappeared and she was suddenly suffused with sunlight and serenity. Inspired, she seized a pen and ran over to her desk to find the pretty cloth-bound notebook Rose had given her. She jotted down a few more thoughts on successful co-parenting for the introduction of her book. Then she brought Cal with her into her bedroom, where they walked into her wardrobe and considered what might be a suitable outfit to wear (skinny jeans + Armani blazer = work/life balance) in the photograph she planned to have taken this afternoon under the Delacorte clock, with Cal in a piggyback and Lucia beside her. She’d print this with a cheery caption just before the acknowledgments in her new book.
It suddenly occurred to her that Peter and Matty might join them. Her publisher had been asking for a happy family image to put in the promotional package. We broke up without f**king him up!
She caught sight of herself reflected in the mirror. Instead of wrinkles or rosacea, she saw her green eyes bright and her face in a wide grin. Still some time to go before Botox, she thought cheerfully.
Today was going to be a good day.
“Mommy, look!” shouted Cal. “Everyone’s coming!”
Liddy and Lucia, who had been waiting at the entrance to the zoo, turned and waved.
It was easy to spot the kids from Cal’s class, as several of the mothers had been doing boot camp together in Washington Market Park and they could hardly walk. But they were laughing happily in the sunshine, teasing each other about their various infirmities, and Liddy, seeing how much they enjoyed their easy camaraderie, felt a pang of something that was not quite regret, more like wistfulness. On Liddy’s infrequent appearances in the school hall a crowd
gathered, and she had to be interesting and amusing at its center, all the while wishing she could sit companionably in a corner with some nice, friendly woman talking about head lice or the Tracy Anderson method.
“Anything juicy at work at the moment, Liddy?” said one such nice, friendly mother, depositing a child next to Cal and a large book-shaped present into the black plastic sack Lucia was carrying for the purpose. “No names, of course, just details.”
Liddy nodded obediently. “I’m doing a major sporting star who accuses his ex of trying to poison him with the Thanksgiving turkey.”
“Really? Did she?”
“Her lawyer says she was using Nigella’s cookbook and didn’t know how to convert pounds to kilos.”
The clock struck two and played “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star,” and the jungle adventure party leaders, Dwayne and Leona, appeared on cue, resplendent in khaki shorts and pith helmets.
Dwayne clapped his hands and lifted up one end of a long, large rope with multicolored cords hanging off it, shouting, “Tie yourselves on, jungle adventurers, and don’t get lost!” The little boys and girls obeyed eagerly. Peter and Matty appeared from the café, Peter’s arm around Matty’s shoulders, and Liddy gestured for them to tie themselves on too. But Peter dallied and so Louisa Tilney, class mom and former captain of her college tug-of-war team, helped him, wrapping her muscular arms around his waist and leaning her head into his chest. Peter looked over and caught Liddy’s eye. His expression of bemused horror was priceless, and she began to giggle.
“First stop!” called Leona. “The red panda exhibit!”
She blew a whistle and the procession moved off.
“Look! Up there!” said Cal, pointing, as they reached the exhibit, and several phones were raised to capture the bundles of red fur curled up asleep in the branches. Liddy lifted her phone too and captured Lucia and Cal, in perfect profile, smiling into the distance. She zoomed in to take another picture, but the expression on Lucia’s face was suddenly so pensive that Liddy recoiled.
“Red pandas are mainly nocturnal. What does that mean?” asked Dwayne.
Cal shot his hand up. “They move around at night,” he said.
Lucia bent down and kissed Cal on the top of his head. Then he took her hand and kissed it. Suddenly Lucia burst into tears.
Liddy dropped the rope to head toward them, but at that moment her phone rang. She held it to her ear without checking who was calling. She regretted having done so.
“I’m in the lobby of the St. Regis with a new client and you need to meet us here now.”
“Curtis. I can’t.” Behind her a mynah bird started squawking.
“Where the hell are you?”
Liddy did not reply. She never mentioned her kids in front of Curtis, as he liked to pretend she didn’t have any. Curtis was of the old school on the issue of working parents, except that in his view, children should be neither seen nor heard. He dismissed all talk of flexible working hours, paternity leave, or, worst of all, working from home as “too Scandinavian.”
“Get in the car. I need ten minutes. This is a big one.”
Liddy guessed it must be a celebrity. Curtis had a particular tone to indicate “famous” as well as “rich,” and this often meant Liddy would find herself climbing up fire escapes to “secret” meetings, only to leave through front doors into paparazzi that the celebrities’ publicists had called themselves.
“If it’s a big one, I’m too busy. I have too many ongoing cases as it is.”
“You’ll make time for this, believe me.”
Liddy thought of the check for several thousand dollars she was about to write for Matty’s summer camp. She glanced at her watch: 2:40. At three o’clock the kids would be in the cinema watching a short animated film about lemurs.
“I’ll be there at five past three, and I’m yours for strictly ten minutes,” she said. She hung up, texted Vince to stand by, and ran back to the party to find Lucia. Lucia was simultaneously following the bobbing pith helmets and conducting an animated conversation with her only daughter, twenty-five-year-old Rosita, who had just arrived. The torrent of excitable Spanish made Liddy smile, but as she approached them they both fell silent.
“I’m glad you came, Rosita,” said Liddy, kissing the young woman on both cheeks as Lucia walked on.
Rosita said nothing. She was the image of a young Lucia, only wearing more expensive clothing, her face set determinedly to nonexpression. Liddy continued.
“I heard about your new job in the bank. Congratulations. Lucia is so proud.”
Liddy noticed that Rosita’s eyes, always ringed blue-gray, were particularly baggy and strained today. She works too hard, Liddy thought, but said nothing, as she knew from experience that Rosita bristled whenever she tried to be nice to her. Rosita was too young and too driven to tell the difference between a concerned tone and a patronizing one and Liddy understood. At twenty-five, Liddy had been exactly the same.
“What color is the polar bear’s skin?” asked Dwayne of the children, desperately trying to avoid eye contact with Cal.
“Black!” Cal shouted anyway, and Liddy was delighted that she had rejected Dwayne’s suggestion that a prize be awarded for the child who got the most answers right. Louisa Tilney, whose daughter was now licking the information board, disliked her enough already.
“Your mom seems a bit tired, Rosita,” she said.
“Of course she is,” snapped Rosita. “She was up late doing the party bags.”
She walked off before Liddy could reply, which was good because Liddy didn’t know what to say. At that moment, an enormous polar bear, a magnificent adult male, swam downward, paddled, and then stopped in front of them, hanging spread-eagled, suspended like a puppet, staring out with his beady black eyes and resting his black-skinned paw on the glass. The party gasped, transfixed, and Liddy was transfixed too, mesmerized by this awesome moment of confrontation.
Matty appeared and pushed her onward, saying, “Strange things are afoot at the Circle-K!” (a private joke from the one time they had watched Bill and Ted’s Excellent Adventure together), but then Peter saw Liddy’s face, sent Matty on ahead, and asked, “What’s going on?”
“I’m worried about Lucia. She’s not herself today.”
“Maybe she’s sick?” he said.
Liddy turned to him, her mouth agape with revelation. Of course, Lucia was sick, that must be it.
“I hope it’s not serious,” he continued.
“God, yes,” said Liddy, and she followed him into the darkness of the Polar Seabirds Exhibit, only to be greeted by the astonishing sight of Rosita shouting, “You have to tell her, Mama!” as Lucia ran away from her, both figures silhouetted against a diorama of the Antarctic landscape.
Peter and Liddy looked at each other in dismay.
“Can you get everyone to the cinema?” she pleaded. She looked at her watch: 2:50. SHIT!
And to her amazement he did, grabbing a pith helmet and ramming it on top of his head, announcing that he would give the child that got outside first a can of cola.
Meanwhile, Liddy ran out into the sunlight and there, blinking, she found Lucia sitting mournfully on a bench in front of the sea lions.
Liddy approached tentatively. She sat down beside her and reached over and took Lucia’s hand. “Lucia, what is it?”
Lucia turned to look at her, her eyes watery and an expression on her face so anguished that a sob rose in Liddy’s throat. Liddy swallowed it back down.
“Are you ill?”
Lucia shook her head. “No. But my papa is,” she said slowly. “I have to go back to Colombia.”
Rosita came out and sat down on Lucia’s other side. She put an arm around her mother, and Lucia leaned against her.
“We’ve been arguing,” said Rosita. “Mama thinks you won’t cope without her. She says you are la
te most nights and your phone is always ringing. She is sad to leave you on your own.”
“Oh, Lucia,” said Liddy. “We’ll be fine. Of course you must go. When are you leaving? How long will you be?”
“She’s flying out next Friday.” Rosita paused and glanced at Lucia, who squished her lips together in an urgent attempt not to cry again. “And she won’t be coming back. I’ve bought her a house near my granddaddy’s. All our family live there. I have twenty-three cousins.”
Liddy looked at Rosita, who folded her arms and leaned back onto the bench. She considered asking Rosita to leave for a few minutes so she and Lucia could talk together. Lucia, however, fearing Liddy’s renowned powers of persuasion and problem solving, obviously did not want that.
“I came to America for Rosita. She has been a good girl. She has everything. And now I am done and my papa needs me, Miss Liddy. You have been so kind and generous to me always. But I have to go home.”
Liddy knew the conversation was over. Only six months ago she had finally made Lucia promise to call her “Liddy” and, most of the time, Lucia had complied. Liddy’s right foot started to tap uncontrollably. This would take more than an hour with the life coach to sort out. Lucia had patrolled the hospital corridors as Liddy gave birth to Cal. She had barred the door to Curtis Oates during Liddy’s two-week maternity leave. Liddy had assumed she would be accompanying her to Cal’s high school graduation. How could she replace the irreplaceable?
“Why didn’t you say anything?” she said.
“I didn’t want to spoil my little Cal’s beautiful party,” Lucia said finally.
Liddy stood up and the two women embraced. Then Lucia took Liddy’s face in her two hands and kissed her forehead.
“I would like to tell him myself tonight so he understands. Okay? Can I bring him home with me after the cake for a sleepover?”
The Real Liddy James Page 10
