by Lesley Crewe
Jonathan and I end up at the restaurant in the Rockefeller Center, the one that overlooks the skating rink and Christmas tree. We settle ourselves at a table next to the window and spend most of our time watching families skating while we wait for our lunch.
“I could never skate,” I tell him. “I wanted you to play hockey like a good Canadian boy, but your father didn’t skate either.”
“Too bad. I would’ve liked hockey.”
“You can still learn. You’re not over the hill yet.”
“Maybe, but I never seem to find the time.”
“And you never will, unless you make it a priority.”
He turns his face towards the window. “I miss Melissa. It feels strange to be in the apartment without her.”
“She’ll be with you soon. Once you find a new place to move into.”
“I’m half thinking of buying back Dad’s brownstone.”
I put out my hand and pat his. “I think that’s a wonderful idea! I loved that house. But will the people you sold it to move out?”
“People will do anything if you pay them enough.”
I pick a roll out of the basket in front of us. “What’s it like to get whatever you want?”
“I don’t get everything I want.”
“Oh no? Darn close.”
“I didn’t get you.”
The roll is forgotten. My hands cover my face because I don’t want to make a scene. It’s a matter of getting myself under control.
“Mom?”
When I think I’m okay, I take my hands away and look at him. “This is the hard part, Jonathan. This is the part that will take your breath away and I want you to be prepared for what you’re about to hear. Your father and I and your grandfather are all villains in this piece, and you might not want to talk to me ever again, but I have to take that chance. You need the truth so you can figure out how you’re going to live your life from here on out.”
“You’re scaring me.”
“I know.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
THEN
The first years in New York are actually fun, except when I have to spend time with Oliver. He’s delighted with Jonathan, and even treats Aaron with more respect, but when Aaron is out of the room, I can feel his hostility like a thick coat of glue. I understand him being ticked off that I’m not a high society girl like the friends Aaron grew up with, but I haven’t put a step wrong and still he judges me. If Aaron knows, he’s pretending not to. Aaron never did like to rock boats. And for some reason his father’s opinion means a lot to him. Never having had a father, I can’t relate, but I imagine trying to please an impressive man is difficult.
One thing that does puzzle me is Aaron’s devotion to work. I never pictured him to be a businessman, and yet he spends long days and evenings toiling away for the Willingdon fortune. Jonathan and I have his full attention on weekends, and we have great adventures roaming through Central Park and visiting museums and the like. There’s always something to do, and Jonathan loves whatever his father suggests. He also loves it when his grandfather takes him for the afternoon. I can’t hold that against Oliver. He does love our son, but then Jonathan is too young to talk back to him. Just wait until we hit the teen years. It might not be so pleasant then.
I lead a solitary life. None of the wives I’ve met at parties have ever invited me to accompany them to lunch or the theatre, so when Jonathan is at school, I spend a lot of time browsing and buying in bookstores. My formal education might have stopped abruptly, but that doesn’t mean I can’t educate myself.
One of my other pastimes is making the house as nice as possible. Just knowing I can walk into a store and buy anything gives me a thrill. But while being married to money has its perks, it doesn’t solve everything, and now that we’ve been married for six years I’m getting restless.
Aaron and I do sleep together now, but not often. Deep down I’m afraid my background bothers him and he’s too nice to say anything. Or maybe I’m just not that great, because I’m always so on edge. Aaron is kind and I shouldn’t worry so much, but now that the years are passing, I’d like another baby. I don’t want Jonathan to be alone like I was. But so far nothing has happened.
We put Jonathan to bed one night and Aaron says he has go out and meet a client. “Only for a couple of hours.”
“I’m alone here all day, Aaron. Why can’t we be together tonight?”
He reaches over and strokes me cheek. “I’m sorry. I promise we’ll do something tomorrow night. If it wasn’t important I wouldn’t go.”
“How are we supposed to have another child if you’re never here?”
He looks annoyed. “I am here, Grace. I’m here all the time. I can’t help it if I have to work. Trying to please my old man is hard enough. I don’t need to be told I’m not pleasing you either. I’ll see you later.”
So I sit in this large, gorgeous home and try to convince myself I’m not lonely.
For the last few years I’ve been visiting the sanatorium where Aaron’s mom, Lydia, lives. Some days she doesn’t talk much, but now that she knows me, she lets me sit and hold skeins of wool while she rolls the yarn into balls for her knitting projects.
Lydia is a beautiful woman but her face is vacant, like her life force left a long time ago and only her shadow was left behind. But she seems content enough.
“Jonathan got a hundred on his grade four math test the other day,” I say proudly. “He takes after Aaron. All the Willingdon men seem to have a knack for numbers.”
“Oh yes.” She nods.
I look out the window at the spectacular grounds. God only knows how much it costs to stay here.
“Do you ever wish you could go home, Lydia? We miss seeing you every day.”
“I am home.”
“I mean with Oliver.”
She throws the ball of yarn in my face. One of the nurses hurries over. “I believe Mrs. Willingdon needs her nap now. She’ll say goodbye.”
“Goodbye, Lydia. I’ll tell Aaron you said hi.”
As she’s being led away, she looks at her nurse. “Who’s Aaron?”
It’s a hot July day in 1984 and Jonathan is ten. He and I are in a sweat packing everything he needs for summer camp in Vermont. Aaron says he’ll try and make it to the community centre before Jonathan leaves, but that he might get stuck at work. He gives his son fourteen extra squeezes to last him for the two weeks he’ll be away.
“I love you, buddy.”
“Love you too, Dad.”
I follow Aaron to the front door. “Are you kidding? All the parents will be there to wave them goodbye. You better show up.”
“Will you get off my back? He’s not bothered by it. He’ll be too excited to even notice if I’m there.”
“Wonderful. Thank you.”
“I’ll do my best, Grace. Are you going out to see my mother today?”
“I hadn’t planned on it.”
He puts his hand on my arm. “Why don’t you? The house will be mighty quiet this afternoon, and I know how you get.”
“All right.”
He kisses my cheek. “Love you.” And he runs down the stairs and jumps in a taxi.
I shut the door. Lately I’m always disappointed, but I shake it off when I hear my son hollering from the top of the stairs.
“They said we were going to have bonfires every night! Did you pack me some marshmallows?”
“Yes, they’re in your kit.”
“And I’ll be learning how to sail. Grandfather is very happy about that. He says I can sail his yacht someday.”
“Did he, now?”
Between the two of us, we bring down all his gear to the front door and go over the list again. Jonathan and I have breakfast together quickly and then we put all his stuff in the car and I drive us over to the centre where the bus is waitin
g. They said it will leave at eleven on the dot.
We join a mass of excited kids and happy but anxious parents. Jonathan has never gone two weeks without us in his life, but the fun of having his friends around twenty-four-seven is such a novelty for him. Only children often long for a sibling, and Jon thinks camp will be like having a big family vacation. I’m thrilled for him, despite knowing it will be too silent without him.
It’s time to get on the bus. Jonathan has his arms around me.
“See ya! Don’t get lonesome, Mom.”
“I promise.”
He looks around. “I don’t think Dad is going to make it.”
“Well, you know he loves you very much and he’s super happy for you.”
“I know. Bye, Mom.” He wiggles out of my arms and runs to the bus steps.
“I love you!” I shout after him, but he doesn’t turn around.
The parents huddle together trying to pick out where their kids are sitting. Jonathan is in the middle, in the aisle seat. He waves over the kid in the window. I wave back and blow him kisses as the bus lumbers out of the parking lot and disappears up the street.
Couples talk together as they walk back to their cars. There are a few of us who are here solo; I’m not completely alone. It just feels like it.
There’s no sense going back to the house. On my way to Connecticut to visit Lydia I pick up fresh fruit and pastry. We can have a picnic outside if she feels up to it. It’s a glorious day and she should be out in the fresh air.
When I get to her room with my parcels, she’s not there. I go in search of one of the staff. They know me here. “Where’s Lydia?”
“She has a visitor. They’re outside in the garden, if you’d like to join them.”
I make my way to the garden and realize too late that Oliver is sitting with Lydia. He spies me before I can sneak away, so I hold my chin up and continue across the lawn. I kiss Lydia hello.
“It’s nice to see you, dear,” she says.
“And you. Hello, Oliver.”
“Grace.”
I sit under the shade of the umbrella and pass Lydia a chocolate biscuit. “How are you feeling? You look well.”
“Do I?”
“You’re always lovely.”
She smiles and looks away to watch a squirrel on the lawn.
“How often do you come here?” Oliver asks me.
“A couple of times a week.”
“That’s not necessary. She doesn’t remember.”
“Why wouldn’t you want your wife to have company from time to time?
“She has me.”
Maybe it’s because I’m missing Jon already, but I’m not in the mood for bullshit. I take a pastry and throw small pieces on the ground for the squirrel. “Why do you hate me so much?”
“My dear, I don’t think about you at all.”
“I am your grandson’s mother. I’m important in his life. Why do you want me as an enemy? It doesn’t make sense.”
Oliver reaches for one of the plums I brought with me. “You don’t matter, Miss Fairchild. Your influence is secondary. I see the way Jon is with Aaron. They are a team. Mothers are overrated.”
His ability to make me feel like less than nothing is astonishing. I’m speechless.
But Lydia isn’t.
She turns to him. “I love Grace. I love Aaron. I love Jonathan. I hate you.”
Oliver gets up and walks away.
Lydia doesn’t say anything else after that. We sit together all afternoon. At times she pats my knee. A nurse comes over and says it’s time she went inside. We kiss goodbye and I walk to the car, my hands trembling.
I stop at the nearest restaurant and order a chicken sandwich and coffee. It’s the only way I’ll be able to drive home. By the time I leave it’s dusk and a beautiful summer night, but I drive with the heat cranked to keep from shivering. It’s as I’m pulling onto our street that I remember it was only this morning that I said goodbye to Jonathan. Is that possible?
When I come in, Aaron rushes out of the kitchen. “Where the hell were you? I thought you were in a ditch.”
“You told me to go see your mother, so I did.”
“You stayed all day?”
“I’m a good daughter-in-law.”
He smiles and comes over to hug me. “I know why you didn’t want to come home. Jonathan’s not here. You miss him, don’t you? I have to say the place is pretty quiet.”
I don’t say anything. He holds me closer. “We’re alone. How about we try and make this baby of yours? There’s wine in the fridge. I’ll run you a hot bath.”
“Okay.” My heart isn’t in it. The truth is, this family makes me crazy. Maybe I shouldn’t be in such an almighty hurry to find my own family. There seems to be nothing but heartache with relatives.
Aaron says, “Are you all right? You look pale.”
“It’s been a long day.”
“Come my love. I’ll try and make you feel better.”
It’s now September and Jonathan is going into grade five. It’s hard to believe that I was about this age when my mother and sister left me at that compound. Whenever Jon makes a fuss about something silly, I want to shake him and say, “You have no idea what it’s like for some kids.” But it’s not his fault. He’s a good boy, even though I continue to see him grow closer to his father and grandfather than to me.
Maybe I’m not a great mother. I’m doing what I think I should do, but sometimes I feel inadequate and that makes me ill-tempered. It’s not just Jonathan who gets the brunt of it.
Ever since my meeting with Oliver about two months ago, I’ve had a hard time dealing with Aaron. I’m taking my anger at his father’s behaviour out on him. Whenever he talks about something that went right for a change at the office, and how his father was so pleased, I want to gag.
Aaron also gets annoyed when I back out of dinner engagements at his father’s house.
“He’s going to notice that there’s something wrong. What is your problem?”
“I don’t feel like it.”
He throws his hands in the air. “What has gotten into you? It’s like you’re all pissed off at everyone and everything. If this has something to do with your not being pregnant, that’s not my fault. You hardly come near me. I’m not going to beg you to be with me, Grace. I have grave doubts about bringing another child into the world, when you are so obviously depressed or something. Did you call that therapist I told you about.”
“No.”
“Then I give up. Do what you want.”
He stays out late just to punish me.
It’s October when Jonathan is invited to spend the weekend with his chum Tommy from school. He’s anxious to go and since we know the family, he gets the green light. Once again, as soon as Jonathan leaves my life loses meaning, but I don’t want to sulk around Aaron this weekend. I book myself into an overnight spa experience I read about in a magazine. When I tell Aaron, he looks up from the paper as he eats breakfast at the kitchen table. “That’s a good idea. Enjoy yourself. It might make you more relaxed.”
“Which would be a relief for everyone, I’m sure.”
“Now that you mention it.” He grins.
I go over and kiss the top of his head. “I just need to do something different. Maybe I’ll audit some classes at the university.”
“Why don’t you go to university? What’s stopping you? I know how much you love to learn. Why didn’t we think of this earlier?”
“You’re right. I may just do that. What’s on your agenda?”
“Paperwork, what else. I think Dad wanted me to drop by to see the plans for a new addition he’s thinking of building at the back of his property.”
“Why does he need more room? He rattles around there by himself as it is.”
“Don’t ask me. He doesn�
��t explain himself and it’s easier not to ask.”
“Have fun.”
“You too.”
The spa experience is lost on me. Having people rub their hands over me is not my idea of a good time. Why didn’t I think of that before? The massage and facial are torture. I’m surprised I get through it. The manicure and pedicure aren’t as bad. Now they tell me to get in a sauna. This is the worst of all. The moist, heavy heat burns my lungs and as the sweat pours off me, it’s like my inner anger seeps out with it. It dawns on me that the moisture on my face is not just sweat but tears. The lady said that might happen. “A cleansing of the body and soul.”
I hate her. I hate everything.
When I limp out of the sauna, they want me in a cold shower. “It’s bracing.”
“This is bullshit. Let me out of here.”
So I find myself in my car late on Saturday afternoon. There is nowhere to go. I’ve been in every museum and art gallery in this city more than two dozen times. Broadway shows are starting to bore me. I don’t go to movies; I never have anyone to talk to about them after.
Maybe Aaron will be up for going out to dinner. Surely he’s not busy on a Saturday night.
I let myself into the house and hear music upstairs. Good, he’s home. I take my overnight bag that didn’t see any action and open our closed bedroom door. There’s Aaron, having the time of his life on our bed with a naked man. They don’t see me at first. I wait until they do.
Aaron yelps and backs off the bed, covering his penis. The other man does the same. Two little boys caught with their hands down their pants.
“Grace! What are you doing here?”
They grapple with their clothes as I continue to stand, unmoving. If he expects a reaction, I’m not giving him one.
Aaron shoos his stunned friend away and he scurries past me like he’s afraid I’ll reach out and grab his hair. Aaron holds out his hands and walks slowly over to me.
“I’m sorry, Grace. I’m so sorry. It’s meaningless. Something I do from time to time, like some people watch a porno movie. We haven’t had much physical contact lately and I know that’s no excuse—”
