My Life as a Doormat (in Three Acts)

by Rene Gutteridge

  “Or on ruthless reporters.”

  He laughed. “That too.”

  “Maybe I’m mistaken, but it seems like your entire radio program is aggressive. Don’t you kind of obliterate people?”

  “No,” he said smoothly, “I just argue with them until they admit they’re wrong.”

  Suddenly, several places on my body were beginning to ache where I’d been hit with paint pellets.

  “So what did we win?”

  “A great deal of satisfaction and a hundred bucks.”

  “Cinco?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Promise me we’ll never, ever play paintball again.”

  He laughed. “You didn’t like it?”

  “It was entertaining. But the only thing I liked was that it was with you.” I smiled to myself. Never in a mil lion years would I have protested a date activity in the past. I would’ve pretended to like it so I wouldn’t make the other person feel bad.

  He brushed a sweaty piece of hair out of my face. “I promise. And the good news is that we now have plenty of money to go out on the town tonight.” And then he took my sweaty cheeks into his hands and kissed me.

  Chapter 29

  [She takes in the view.]

  I couldn’t get enough of Cinco. We spent every moment available together for four solid weeks. During that time I spoke to my family only occasionally on the phone, basically just so we could reassure one another we were still alive. I didn’t hear from J. R., nor did I care to.

  My absence perplexed Elisabeth. “You’re always home,” she complained one day on my answering machine. “That’s one thing I love about you. I know where you’ll be.”

  But I didn’t care. I was with Cinco and falling madly in love with him. This man, whose sense of adventure might have terrified me once upon a time, was everything I ever wanted. And not once, since we’d been together, had I splotched.

  I celebrated by buying a nice V-neck cotton top for the next time we went out. When I returned home from shopping, the phone was ringing. It was Mother.

  “Leah, we’re having Sunday dinner. Tonight. I insist everyone be there. There’s been enough of this nonsense. We are family, and we are going to spend time together if it kills us, which it might, but at least we’ll be together.”

  Another remark indicating she still blamed me for almost killing Dad with my news about Edward.

  “I don’t know if I can,” I said, closing my eyes. “I might have plans.”

  “Plans? What could you possibly be doing that’s more important than a family dinner?” Mother asked. “Your father is getting stronger each day, but it would still do him some good to get things back to normal.”

  As far as I was concerned, things would never be back to normal, but I wasn’t sure Mother would ever acknowledge that. I sighed into the phone, loudly enough for Mother to hear. I didn’t have plans with Cinco, so I had no excuse.

  “What time?”

  “Seven o’clock. Lola has the night off, so I’m cooking rosemary chicken, our favorite.”

  I laughed. Mother always referred to that dish as the family’s favorite, but really the only person who liked it was Mother.

  “Okay. I’ll be there.”

  A satisfied acknowledgment came through the receiver, but Mother didn’t know how dangerously close she was to hearing that I couldn’t come. I recognized, however, that I needed a nice slap of reality. I’d been living and breathing Cinco Dublin for weeks, and everything else had been set aside, including my work. I’d accepted some editing jobs for money until I knew what else I would do.

  “I’ll see you tonight,” Mother said and hung up the phone, just as I started to ask if Cinco could come.

  The rosemary chicken was providing the only real conversation at the table. Kate was still sulking, but, unlike Mother, she didn’t seem to be blaming me. Mother kept asking if the rosemary was too overbearing. It’s not the rosemary, I kept wanting to reply. But the new and bold Leah didn’t include unnecessary insults. And truthfully, the rosemary chicken would’ve been exceptional if Dad hadn’t kept using it to illustrate how his surgery was performed.

  I slumped against the straight-backed chair. I wanted to be with Cinco, where things were comfortable and good and I felt accepted for who I was. But then something occurred to me, something that Cinco had told me on one of our dates. I had asked him how he was capable of being hated by so many people simply because of what he stood for. He said, “I try to love everyone, but I serve only One.”

  I try to love everyone. I knew it to be true. As combative as Cinco’s show sounded, his words were almost always filled with love. Other people said hateful things, while Cinco tried to offer them love. But his words definitely drew out the worst in people. I’d learned firsthand that he was a persuasive and sometimes pushy debater. But people mostly hated hearing what he had to say about God and about truth. Amazingly, their reactions never deterred him from saying it. Or from loving them.

  And within those few seconds, I suddenly felt free to love my family. Because I realized loving them didn’t mean they made choices for me or had power over me. Maybe that was why I’d been so reluctant to fully love them all these years. Maybe it was because I thought loving them meant giving up control of my life to them.

  Cinco was saying that I did have to give up control . . . just not to them.

  “I love you,” I said. All eyes shifted to me. With utter horror, I realized I’d said it out loud. There had been a lull in the conversation, and my remark hung out there like a lonely tree ornament.

  I focused on my plate. I couldn’t believe I’d said it out loud. What was I thinking? It’s one thing to feel it, but to be an idiot and say it?

  “I love you too.” Kate smiled at me from across the table.

  And Dad said, “Well, you know I love you. I raised you and spent half my life’s fortune on you.” He grinned. I could hardly smile back because of the great big lump that was forming in my throat.

  I looked at Mother, who looked as horrified as if she’d served Spam at a senators’ wives brunch. When she realized she was the only one who hadn’t responded, she cleared her throat and said, “Well, of course we love each other. We’re family. The sky’s blue too, if you haven’t noticed.” I guessed that was the best she could do.

  Then Kate said, “You know, Leah, I’ve got to hand it to you. I didn’t think you had the guts to do it.”

  “Do what?”

  “Hello? Break off your engagement. I mean, sis, that was one gutsy move. You’d already picked out the cake, everyone in the family knew, and it was practically Gammie’s lifeline. But you stuck by your convictions. It was an amazing thing to witness.”

  Dad said, “Honey, it was shocking. But I would never want you to marry someone you didn’t love.”

  I looked at Mother. She smiled a little and nodded, then sliced another thin piece off the quarter breast she’d served herself. She never had been a big eater. I remember her being horrified at how much food I would pile onto my plate at certain events. “Three cucumber slices’ worth,” she would say, forming her index finger and thumb into a circle. That was our appetizer limit. And as for dinner, we were instructed to leave at least a third on our plate. I always had trouble doing that, especially when they served lobster.

  “How have you been doing? Have you talked to Edward?” my sister asked. This was shocking coming from her, because until now she hadn’t acknowledged anyone’s pain but her own.

  I decided this was the right time to mention Cinco. “I haven’t talked to Edward,” I said. “It’s officially over. There’s no reason for us to talk anymore.”

  Mother shook her head, like that was the saddest thing she’d ever heard.

  “But I am seeing someone.”

  It seemed even the chicken carcass looked up at that statement.

  “So soon?” was Mother’s predictable reply.

  “Is this the same gentleman you mentioned before?” Dad asked.

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sp; I nodded. “We’ve been seeing a lot of each other. I really like him.” I looked around the table. “No. I love him. I’m in love with him.”

  “It’s not a rebound?” Kate asked. “Because I’ve had two dates with the copier serviceman at work, and I have no idea why.”

  “No,” I said. “This is the real thing.”

  “Pass the chicken,” Mother said. She hadn’t even eaten half of what was on her plate, but she obviously needed to slice into something. I was thankful it wasn’t going to be me.

  For a few moments we all listened to Mother try to slice through a stubborn tendon. Finally it snapped loose and a leg fell off. Mother stabbed the leg with her fork and dropped it onto her plate.

  “Well,” Mother said, “the good news is that you should have plenty of ideas for your next wedding. That’s half the battle.” She smiled, all the while stabbing food items on her plate, but not putting anything in her mouth. Finally, a green bean made its way in.

  Dad set his fork down and gave me his full attention. “Why don’t you tell us a little bit about this new man. He seems very important to you, and if so, I’d like to know more about him.”

  I wanted to reach out and hug Dad. But instead I said, “His name is Cinco.”

  Mother thought I was joking, so she laughed lightheartedly like she did when she didn’t understand the jokes told by other senators at parties.

  “Cinco? Like the number four?” Kate asked.

  “Five, actually. And yes. It’s a nickname.”

  “A nickname for what? A character on Sesame Street?” Mother quipped. She’d always hated that show, even though Dad spent lots of time as a senator fighting for public television funding.

  “Think of it as a nickname, like Howie is for Howard.” That shut Mother up, so I continued. “His real name, actually, is Rupert.”

  “Rupert?” Dad said as though I’d just leaked top secret information.

  “Yes, Rupert.”

  “Then I’m glad he goes by Cinco,” Dad said. “I’m not fond of the name Rupert.”

  I wanted to sigh loudly. Really loudly. Everyone was so caught up with his name I hadn’t even had a chance to describe what a wonderful human being he was, what he had already done for my life so far. And I couldn’t imagine why Dad wouldn’t like the name Rupert. It sounded as old-Washington as they came.

  “Anyway,” I continued, “he has a political radio talk show that you may have heard of. He’s a Christian. And he thinks I hung the moon.”

  “So he’s into politics,” Dad said, slowly rubbing his hands together.

  “Yes. He’s very intelligent. You two would have a lot to talk about.”

  Dad raised an eyebrow. “Well, I suppose it would be nice to talk politics with somebody in this family, since I’m the only one who seems interested in it.” Dad looked distracted. He took a bite of food, then pointed his fork at me like he was about to say something, but a full minute went by without anything being said. Then, “What’d you say his name was again?”

  “Rupert,” I said carefully. Maybe the heart attack had damaged his brain.

  “His other name.”

  “Cinco.”

  “No, his other name.”

  “His last name?”

  “Yes.”

  “Dublin.”

  “No!” Dad shouted and slammed down his fork. “No! No!”

  I dropped my own fork, and all three of us women had our backs straight against our chairs and our fingers clinging to the edge of the table.

  Dad pointed to me. “No! I forbid you!”

  “Why?” I asked meekly. I had never seen my father’s face so bloodred.

  “Calm down,” Mother instructed him in a voice that Dumbo would’ve struggled to hear. “This isn’t good for your—”

  Dad’s hand slammed onto the top of the table as he stood. I was shaking all over. “I don’t ever want to hear that name spoken in this house again. Do you understand me? You will break off this relationship and never see him again.” Dad threw his napkin onto his plate and stomped out of the room.

  “What is going on?” I asked Mother, though my lungs were so depleted of air that I could hardly get the question out.

  Mother blotted her mouth as if dinner had gone just as planned. “Rupert Dublin the Fourth is your father’s greatest enemy.”

  “Enemy? What kind of enemy?”

  “He was the reporter for the Globe, the one that dogged your father during his entire political career. You two were mere children at the time. He was relentless, always calling your father unreliable, and I believe he even used the term ‘pigheaded’ a time or two.”

  “Well, I’m not dating the Fourth, I’m dating the Fifth,” I said. I heard Kate quietly counting uno, dos, tres, cuatro . . .

  “It doesn’t matter to your father. Mr. Dublin is a sworn enemy. He always will be.”

  I stood, startling both my sister and my mother.

  “What are you doing?” Mother asked.

  “I’m going to talk to him.”

  “Not a good idea,” Mother said, standing as well. “I’ve hardly ever seen your father that angry. He needs to calm down.” I started to move to the door, and she said, “For his health, Leah.”

  I took one look at her, a long look that made her squirm in her hosiery, and walked straight to the back patio where I’d heard my father slam the French doors.

  The evening breeze caught my breath as I walked toward Dad, who stood against the concrete railing that overlooked the gardens. He heard me walk out but didn’t turn to acknowledge me. My armpits were reminding me that as bold as I wanted to be, I was never going to be like Cinco. This kind of confrontation was not in my blood. But if I didn’t stand up for this, what else was there to stand up for? I had to fight for the man I loved. The man who loved me like I’d never been loved.

  I started to say something, but Dad whirled around to face me, a stern expression catching my words and flattening them like a bug under his shoe.

  “You will not see him anymore,” Dad said. “I cannot even imagine having that man’s own flesh and blood under my roof.”

  “You are not being fair!” I said, and I could tell my outburst surprised him, but he didn’t pause long.

  “Leah, you are a member of this family, and that requires your loyalty. I have raised you to be my daughter, and up until a few weeks ago, you were everything a father could want in a daughter. Nobody has been more reliable in my life than you. I understand that right now you’re going through some emotional turmoil. You’ve called off your marriage to Edward, and you think this Roman numeral is the answer to all your problems. But I am telling you that you will not date him anymore. Call it off. It can’t be that serious. It’s only been a few weeks since you called it off with Edward. Tell this man you’re sorry, but that you can’t see him anymore because, unfortunately, his father is a cockroach.”

  Surprisingly, tears didn’t rush to my eyes. I kept expecting them to come, but they didn’t. And my neck didn’t feel hot either. All I said, as calmly as if I were talking about rosemary chicken, was, “I won’t.”

  “What did you say?”

  “I won’t.”

  “You won’t.”

  “I’m sorry you have your disagreements with Mr. Dublin, but that’s not my problem. Cinco is a fine man that you would adore if you gave him the chance.”

  “Ha! Nothing fine or good could come from that man. Do you realize he almost ended my political career? Do you realize that?”

  “I do now. You’ve made it pretty clear that if given a chance, you’d allow him that kind of power over you again.”

  “What is that supposed to mean?” Dad was nearly shouting now, but I tried to keep my voice low, reminding myself how much I loved my dad.

  “It means that Rupert Dublin the Fourth apparently still holds his power over you. You can’t even say his name without trembling with rage, Dad. Don’t you see? You could let go of all that and embrace Cinco and let it be done with.�
��

  Dad’s voice boomed. “What’s come over you? You’ve changed.”

  “No. I just want to date a man named Cinco, who is good and decent, and who, if he had any other last name, would be a person you could like too.”

  “What are you saying? You’re going to defy me?”

  “Defy you? I’m thirty-four. It’s called having my own life.”

  “So you’ve made your decision.”

  “I want to date him, Dad. That’s all I’m saying. And I’d like you to give him a chance.”

  Dad turned back toward the gardens, his knuckles flat against the railing as he leaned on it and lowered his head, not unlike the famous picture of President Kennedy during the Cuban Missile Crisis. “Then so be it. If it’s that important to you, then date him. I can see where your priorities are. But know this. As long as you are with him, you are not allowed in my house.”

  My heart was shattering with each harsh word that he spoke.

  Dad turned and brushed by me, through the doors and out of sight. I couldn’t believe what I’d just heard. Was he disowning me? If ever there was the equivalent of a missile crisis in my life, this was it. Dad had never been this angry with me that I could remember.

  Suddenly, I heard someone behind me. I turned, hoping it was Dad with immediate regrets. But it was Kate. She slid beside me and looked toward the garden as she plopped her hand around my shoulder and pulled me close.

  “Thanks for taking over my old job in this family,” she said. “I can show you where to get your nose pierced.” We smiled at each other, but as we stood there, I wondered if this would be the last time I would ever see this beautiful view.

  Chapter 30

  [She twirls, then gazes at herself.]

  The full-length mirror on the back side of my closet door framed me standing there, my shoulders slumping a little. Stand tall, I reminded myself, and I thrust my shoulders back and lifted my chin. I brushed my hair out of my face and tried to smile.

  Smile. Come on, smile.