The Real Mother

by Judith Michael

  “And Mother?” Sara asked bluntly.

  Mack stopped midsentence. “Shit.” He put a hand over his eyes. “I don’t know what to say about her. Doug told me what happened—sort of. Told me enough, anyway, that I got the picture. Christ, aren’t mothers supposed to be good at forgiving people? I thought—” He shook his head and took away his hand, looking at Sara beseechingly. “I thought she’d understand me. Love me. You know? Like mothers do. I love her. I missed her, I even missed her calling me names, telling me how selfish I was…you know, the whole bit. I thought, if I was missing her, she had to be missing me. Then I heard she had a stroke, and I thought it was because Dad was gone and she’d lost two husbands and that was more than she—well.” He shrugged. “I thought a lot of things, thought thoughtfully about a lot of things. Anyway, don’t worry, Sara, I’ll take care of it. I’ll find a way to explain everything to her, and we’ll be fine again, she’ll love me the way she used to, and she’ll forget what happened. Mothers do forget, you know; it’s like they make a specialty of it.”

  He reached for the coffeepot, then looked up sharply. “Hey! Maybe we could bring her home! If we all take care of her together, I’ll bet we could manage it. Who knows what we could do, all of us, together? Sara, listen, it’s what I was telling you: I’m settled. I’m home, where I belong, where I love everybody and everything, and I hope everybody loves me. So here I am, ready to work.” He sat straight and gave a smart military salute. “Marching orders, please, ma’am; I’m prepared to tighten my buckle and buckle down.”

  In the warm, shadowed room, in the close silence with the faint hum of the refrigerator and freezer like a gentle current buoying them up, Sara could not recall why she had been so suspicious of Mack, so unpleasant to him, snapping at him almost every time they talked. Looking at him through half-closed eyes, she saw her mother in his full lips and blond curls, and in the gaiety of his smile that brought back the mother they had lost years before. She was ashamed of herself for her stinginess in welcoming him back, and for thinking only of medical school and a life for herself when he first appeared, instead of helping him rejoin the family and rebuild his own life. He’s one of us, she thought for the first time, and held out her hand to her brother.

  “Thank you,” she said. “It’s wonderful to have you here.”

  FIVE

  With a flourish, Mack placed the tiny, silver-wrapped package in the center of the breakfast-room table, and stood back.

  “There’s no card,” Doug said.

  “Maybe it’s for all of us,” said Carrie.

  Doug shook his head. “Too small.”

  Mack looked at Abby.

  “For me?” she asked. “It’s not my birthday.”

  Mack grinned. “I don’t remember when your birthday is. Or Doug’s or Carrie’s. So it’s a good thing I didn’t wait for it.”

  “That doesn’t make sense,” Carrie said reprovingly.

  “Open it!” Doug shouted. “Open it, open it!”

  Abby pulled the silver bow off the package, and carefully peeled back the tape, preserving the paper. Peeking inside, she said to Mack, “What is it? A pin?”

  “You figure it out,” he said.

  She took out the key and held it up. “It’s not a pin, it’s a real key.”

  “It’s a car key,” said Carrie.

  Abby stared at Mack, her eyes widening. “A car?”

  “Try outside.” He grinned.

  They ran through the dining room and living room, and flung wide the front door. “Up the street,” Mack said, pointing. “It was the only place I could find to—” They dashed down the steps and up the street to the small red car gleaming and beckoning, its front window almost hidden by an enormous red bow.

  “That’s Abby’s?” Doug breathed, for once subdued.

  Mack had followed from the house. “All hers. Maybe she’ll take you for a ride.”

  “But I can’t.” Abby was staring at the car, tears in her eyes.

  “Sara didn’t mean it,” Carrie said. She put her arm around Abby; they were the same height and Carrie felt a sudden rush of happiness at being, for a minute, the comforting sister. “She only said you couldn’t have a car because we couldn’t afford it right now. But it’s okay, you’ll see, she’ll be happy to know Mack gave you one.” When Abby said nothing, she added, “You can help her with shopping and, you know, errands. She’ll be really happy about that.”

  Abby turned to Mack. “How can you afford it?”

  “Got a job,” he said easily. “Happens to the best of us, you know, and then we buy nice presents. Go on, Abby, take the kids for a spin.”

  She shook her head. “I can’t.”

  “Come on, damn it, it’s your car! You do know how, right? They still teach it in junior year?”

  She nodded. “But I don’t have a license. Or a permit. And, anyway, Sara said—”

  “Forget Sara,” Mack said impatiently. “She won’t be home for a couple of hours, and the time has come to take action and act actively. The car is here; we are here; the night is young, and we’re going to try out the new toy. Come on, we’ll take her for a test drive, and if Abby doesn’t want to drive, I’ll do it. Come on, come on, before this shiny new car gets old and dull!”

  “But my play opens tonight—” Abby began, but Mack had shoved past her, past all of them, grabbing the key from Abby’s hand.

  “I’m going if nobody else is,” he said over his shoulder. “There’s hours before you’re supposed to be at school, we’ll be back before that, before anything.” He waited. “Am I the only one who isn’t afraid of Sara?”

  In a rush, Doug and Carrie followed him. “Come on, Abby,” said Doug. “It’s okay, Mack says it’s okay.”

  “And it’s your car,” Mack said. “You’ve got to sit in front for the first ride, or it’s not official. Come on, try it out behind the wheel, just sit there if you don’t want to drive.”

  And Abby slipped into the front seat as Mack removed the huge bow from the window. Now she could see the world, and how different it looked from her own car! Her hands rested lightly on the steering wheel, her right foot settled gently on the accelerator; she breathed in deeply the scent of new leather and fabric and shiny plastic.

  “Looking good,” Mack said happily. He gave Doug and Carrie a light push into the backseat, then walked around the car and sat beside Abby. “Go ahead. Drive a few blocks.”

  “I don’t have a—”

  “What the fuck, Abby. I’m with you. Until you get your permit, I’m the designated driver, but I’m giving you this chance to try her out. Nobody’ll notice; why should they? Come on, she’s yours; you have to give her the first spin so she knows who’s boss.”

  “Go on, Abby,” urged Doug, behind her. “I’ve never seen you drive.”

  So Abby drove her new car. Frowning in concentration, she drove around the block, then around two blocks, and then three. Behind her, Doug and Carrie were laughing delightedly, beside her, Mack hummed a little tune, but she barely noticed. She focused on the width of the streets, the corners where her turns soon became tighter and more controlled, the stop signs that loomed in stern authority, ordering her to come to a full stop, to look both ways, and then to cross the intersection with care, in case a reckless driver should come from nowhere to try to beat her across. In a few minutes, her shoulders relaxed, her clench on the steering wheel eased, and she smiled. She was very happy.

  “Pull up there and park,” Mack directed. “I have a deep, hungry, hungering hunger for a chocolate sundae. Anybody else?”

  It was like a dream, Carrie thought, watching Abby’s serious frown as, with Mack putting in words of advice, she parked without hitting either the car in front or the one in back. And after they all had ice-cream sundaes (“Sara will say we spoiled our dinner,” said Doug, happily spooning fudge), Abby drove home with growing confidence, feeling she had sped through several birthdays in a few hours and was now totally grown up. When she found a parking
place half a block from their house, and neatly backed into it, she leaned over and kissed Mack on the cheek. “Thank you, thank you, you’re wonderful, I love you.”

  “You were good,” said Doug proudly.

  “That was excellent,” said Carrie. “I can’t wait to tell Sara what an excellent driver you are.”

  Abby’s elation faded. She sat in the car, her hands in her lap. “She’ll be furious.”

  “Worry not,” Mack said gaily. “I’ll take care of Sara. She’ll be fine. We’ll all be fine. Come on, my little brood, let’s get you inside.” He replaced the enormous bow on the front window, and stood back to admire it. “Okay, come on, come on…in we go.”

  He was full of energy, shooing them inside and sending them all upstairs while he went downstairs, chose a bottle of wine, and brought it to the kitchen. He set it on the low table between the two armchairs, opened it, and arranged two glasses and a dish of pistachios beside it, then stretched out in one of the chairs, crossing his ankles, feeling deeply satisfied. And that was where Sara saw him when she came in, earlier than usual, because of Abby’s play.

  “Have a good day?” he asked, pouring wine for them both.

  “It was fine. Is everyone upstairs?”

  “Well, I’m not, but, yes, everyone else is.”

  “Have you been home long?”

  “Long enough to have a great time with the kids. Here, sis: sit, drink, chat. I’m glad to see you.”

  Sara heard a rustling nearby, and then Doug and Carrie dashed in, followed more slowly by Abby. “Did you see it?” Doug shouted. “The car with the big bow?”

  Sara smiled. “I was going to ask if you’d seen it. Someone’s present, obviously; it’s parked in front of the Bennetts’.”

  Doug looked at Mack. “You said you’d tell her.”

  “Tell me?” Sara asked.

  “About the car.”

  “Doug,” Abby whispered.

  Sara turned to Mack, whose hands were high in surrender. “Mea culpa yet again. I did something rash. Happy, but rash. It seems I bought Abby a car. Abby was afraid you’d be angry, but I told her of course you wouldn’t be, you’d be happy for her, but to prevent any misunderstanding, I’d be the one to tell you about it.”

  There was a silence.

  “Sara, it’s spectacular!” Doug cried, running into the kitchen, unable to remain on the outskirts of the action. “It’s red and it smells great, well, sort of peculiar, but Mack says it’s a new-car smell, and everybody wants it, you can even buy it in a spray can, but we have our very own, well, Abby has it, and she drove it and she didn’t hit one single thing, it was spectacularly cool!”

  “Abby drove,” Sara said. It was not a question.

  “She was terrific,” said Mack easily. “I was right next to her, but she was fine, a real pro. Good practice, you know; it’s the best way to learn.”

  “Sara?” Abby asked, coming into the kitchen. “Can I keep it? It’s really beautiful, and I won’t drive it unless you say I can, but can I please keep it?”

  “I don’t know,” Sara said slowly. “Let me think about it.”

  Once again Carrie put her arm around her sister. “It isn’t Abby’s fault,” she said to Sara. “She didn’t ask for it. Mack bought it without telling her. Or anybody. It was a surprise. And she really likes it, and she is a good driver and she could help you with shopping and errands and driving us places and things, and it would be awful to make her give it back.”

  “You wouldn’t make her give it back!” Doug cried.

  Sara looked at the four of them.… the Wicked Witch of the West spoiling the reunion.

  “I’ll think about it,” she repeated.

  “Sara, I really want this,” Abby said, a sudden edge in her voice. “I’m old enough and I’ll be careful and …it’s my present.”

  A swift stab of alarm made Sara hesitate. “I know that, Abby,” she said after a moment, “and I’m not in the habit of denying you things you really care about. This is just very sudden, and I want to think about it. Right now I have to get dinner on; aren’t we eating early so you can get ready for your play?”

  “Yes, but Sara, I need to know.”

  Sara nodded. She’s nervous about the play; she’s nervous about what I’ll say; she’s swept with a dozen emotions a day that all seem overwhelming at her age, and on top of it all she has a conflict between two adults, one of whom offers her treats while the other offers… discipline. And how can I fight such a wonderful gift? What reason could I have? Which means there isn’t much I can say but—

  “All right. You can keep it. But we’ll have to—”

  “Sara, thank you!” Abby was hugging her and kissing her cheek over and over. “Thank you, thank you, you are so wonderful, I love you, oh, thank you! I’ll do anything, just tell me what to do and I’ll do it. Oh, you are so wonderful, isn’t she wonderful?” she demanded of Mack. “See, she’s not different from us at all!”

  “Different?” Sara asked from the circle of Abby’s arms.

  “I said you were like me,” Abby said happily, taking a few dancing steps. “Or I’m like you. You know, we’re the same. And I was right!” She ran to the doorway. “I have to get ready; can you drive me… oh.” Confusion swept briefly over her face, then she took a breath. “Can you drive me there about six-thirty? That’s when we’re all getting there.”

  Sara let out a silent sigh of relief, and went to Abby and kissed her. “Of course I will. And tomorrow you’ll show me how you drive. We’ll work it out.” She turned to Mack. “You’re still going out tonight? Your plans haven’t changed?”

  “Plans haven’t changed, sis. Leaving in a few minutes.”

  Sara nodded, and said to Abby, “I’m going to pick up Mom for dinner and the play—”

  “While Mack is gone,” said Carrie shrewdly.

  “Right,” Mack said evenly.

  “—so you can set the table while I’m gone.” She turned on the burner beneath a casserole and adjusted the flame. “Why don’t you all run upstairs now and get your homework done before dinner, since we’re going to the play later?”

  But not even the undercurrents could diminish the excitement of the moment, and Carrie was giggling from the release of tension, Doug was whooping like an Indian as he took the stairs two at a time, and Abby followed slowly, silent and dazed, still trying to absorb it all.

  “Got to leave in a few minutes,” Mack said, “so this is for good luck.” He kissed Abby on her forehead. “I won’t say break a leg, because who knows? Just kill ’em dead. You will, too, my thaumaturgic thespian.”

  “Thaumaturgic?” Abby asked suspiciously.

  “Magical,” he said easily, and kissed her cheeks, one and then the other. Abby flushed, and Sara noted the brief sexual flare in her eyes as Mack’s lips touched her cheeks, as his hand lay on her shoulder. Something else to watch out for, she thought, but then wondered if the sexual awareness had been there for some time, though she had not seen it. Not because of Mack, she thought, or not only because of Mack. There is, after all, a boyfriend. Sean. And how much do I know about him? Or where they go, or what they do?

  Practically nothing. Though I can guess what they do. Even at fifteen, which seems to be a lot different from fifteen when I was fifteen.

  When Abby had gone upstairs, Sara turned to Mack. “You should not have bought it for her. And you know it.”

  “Right. You’re right; I shouldn’t have. I’m sorry, sis, I got carried away.” He poured more wine, raising an eyebrow at Sara, who shook her head as she took a casserole from the refrigerator and put it on a burner. “I wanted to do something special,” he went on to Sara’s back, “and this seemed right, you know, timing and all. I mean, all the other kids in that fancy school of hers will have cars by the time they’re seniors, and this way she’ll keep up with them. Means a lot at that age, to keep up; shit, I remember too well. And she’s happy. Happily happy and happiest with happiness. A great way for a kid to be. You saw
that.”

  Of course I saw it. Excited; ecstatic. Still a child, almost an adult, ready to take on the world, unaware of, or maybe just indifferent to, subtleties and subtexts. Whatever they might be.

  There was no choice, and she knew it. “It’s a wonderful gift, Mack, extravagant but wonderfully generous, and I’m as grateful as Abby. But you must have gone into debt, and I’m sorry you did that.”

  “I’m on top of things, sis, don’t worry about me. Everything’s okay. In fact, I wanted to talk to you about my paying rent.”

  “You don’t have to do that. This is your home. I’ve never asked—”

  “Nope, you’re too nice. You’re the generous one. But some things are right and proper. So from now on, you get a check every month; just tell me how much.”

  “I have no idea.”

  “Sure you do. Half your expenses. Two actual grown-ups in the house, two people paying bills. And as soon as I’m sure everything’s nailed down, we’ll talk about you going back to school. That’s what you wanted, isn’t it?”

  Sara sat on the arm of an armchair. “Nailed down? You’re not sure about your job?”

  “I’m sure.”

  “Then what does—?” She paused. “Tell me about it.”

  “About what?”

  “Your job.”

  He shrugged. “You’d be bored. It’s not glamorous or exciting, you know, just working for a guy in real estate.” There was a brief pause. “Actually, you know him. Lew Corcoran. The guy I told to call you? He’s a little crude, well, more than a little; the guy has no class—classically classified as quite classless—but what the fuck…sorry…he’s my meal ticket: a big operator with lots of opportunities for a go-getter. That’s me. So I’m learning the business. You are frowning fiercely and fearsomely. Bad for your beautiful forehead, sis. Did I say something wrong?”

  “Did you work for him in New York?”