by Warren Adler
Considering the happy state of her mental health and her joyful attitude toward life, he would often speculate that there might be a lot to say for the quality of, perhaps, a shorter life of sensual pleasures than a longer one of deprivation and self-discipline.
After one of Evie’s usual dinner ceremonies, and when the children had finally gone to sleep, the two of them sat in the den. He had poured out a brandy for himself and a crème de menthe for Evie. He hadn’t talked to her about Victoria’s proposed settlement, but he had mentioned the strange disappearances she was alleging.
“She has two suspects in mind. One is the so-called help,” Josh explained, chuckling.
“Meaning me?”
“She doesn’t know it’s you, Evie.”
He found it strangely gratifying that the children had apparently kept their secret about Aunt Evie. He knew firsthand the insidious pressure of keeping secrets.
“But what is missing is, nevertheless, missing,” Evie said, sipping her crème de menthe.
“I’m not so sure I’m ready to buy that yet,” Josh said, upending his brandy. “It could have happened a while ago. They could have been misplaced, broken. The kids’ friends could have done it in some roughhouse way. She might have forgotten. As for the fashion plate in the spare room, she probably hadn’t been in there in a couple of years. She also might have taken the objects herself.”
“Why would she do that?”
“So she could accuse me. I’m the other suspect.”
“You!” Evie exclaimed, pouring herself another crème de menthe.
“Spitefulness is the way she put it. I didn’t quite understand what she meant at first. She cited Mom and Dad. Doing things to each other for pure spite. It’s ironic.” He shook his head. “The fact is I had this urge to smash some of her precious pieces. I really did. But I managed to contain it.” He picked up one of the inkwells, then quickly replaced it. “I’d break them all if I had the guts.”
“Poor Josh,” Evie sighed.
“Anyway.” He shook off his gloom, reached out, and took his sister’s soft fleshy hand. “Thank God I have you, Evie.”
As during his first two weeks of bird nesting, the household operated in a similar routine. Josh went to the office while Evie supervised the home. Evie continued to cook her elaborate meals. The children loved them, especially the desserts. Evie was a marvel. She made soufflés every night, of every variety, vanilla, chocolate, orange, praline, almonds, and whatever else struck her fancy.
She made mousses and custards and all types of molds. Often, they would have two desserts at dinner. Sometimes she would actually cook two main dishes, poultry, fish, or meat. What she did with eggs and potatoes were works of art. The house was never free from delicious cooking scents, and there were always plates of exotic cookies available at all times.
To cope with all the rich food, Josh kept a secret cache of prescription antacids within easy reach, a fact that he would never dare reveal to Evie. The children, on the other hand, never seemed to falter, their young digestive systems able to cope without discomfort with Evie’s cooking repertoire. Watching them revel happily in her creations, he could be convinced that her theories on food might have more merit than he had earlier speculated.
The children appeared to thrive on the program. Or so he assured himself. They ate whatever they wanted, went to bed at all hours, and lived without any of the constrictions their mother had laid down. It amazed him how smoothly they moved from one plan to the other.
Then, a few days before Josh’s two weeks were up, his own observations about the children’s so-called adjustment was called into question. Emily brought home an alarming school report, her progress rendered by comment rather than by grades.
“Emily seems to have lost interest in school,” the teacher’s report read. “She has also lost her concentration and is not as friendly and cooperative with both teachers and her fellow students as she had been earlier in the term. Her reading skills seem to have deteriorated lately as well. In general, I would say that more help at home is warranted.”
Josh was shocked and Emily was embarrassed by the report. Josh soothed her by blaming everything on the circumstances of her parents’ separation. He assured her that once the tension passed and they had all made the emotional adjustment to the new circumstances, she would regain the will to study and get better grades. But he did insist that she read the teacher’s comments to her mother over the phone. Victoria, as he had expected, asked to speak with Josh.
“I hope you didn’t scold her,” Josh said.
“I did tell her that I was disappointed,” Victoria said.
“I would have preferred you didn’t,” Josh said. “It was completely predictable.”
“Is she very upset?”
“Of course she is. Who wouldn’t be? Her regression is obviously a consequence of what’s happening between us.”
“It’s just one more thing we’ll have to deal with, Josh.”
“Yeah,” Josh muttered. “One more thing.”
It turned out to be two more things. Michael, too, presented him with a terrible report card. It was Saturday, the day before Josh was to relinquish the house to Victoria. Josh noted that Michael had held off a full day before showing it to him.
“Why didn’t you show it to me yesterday?”
“I was scared and Emily had just got hers.”
“I see the point,” Josh said gloomily looking over the report. “This is surprising,” he said. Michael had flunked both math and science, which had been his best subjects.
“I guess I screwed up, Dad.”
“Everyone is allowed at least one screwup,” Josh said gently. Although he was genuinely alarmed, he thought it best, as he had advised Victoria, not to show too much disappointment.
“Should I tell Mom when she calls tonight or wait until tomorrow?”
“I’d suggest you tell her tonight. After all, you did get the report on my watch. I wouldn’t want her to show up and get a big surprise.”
“I guess she’ll be pissed, especially after Emily.”
“I hope not,” Josh said diplomatically. “We all know this is just temporary. You’re a smart kid. You’ll get back on track.”
Later, after hearing about Michael’s report, Victoria asked to speak with Josh.
“It’s a double whammy, Josh,” she said with obvious irritation.
“It is very incongruous, Victoria.”
“Incongruous, Josh? That is a very odd comment.”
“He does his homework. He’s not withdrawn or depressed. He seems happy and content. I don’t understand it.”
“It could be a form of protest,” Victoria said. “For both of them.”
“Maybe. How would you propose to handle that?” Josh asked, hoping she would see it as a challenge.
“I don’t know. We’re certainly giving them more than most parents in this situation.”
“If you say so,” Josh mused bitterly.
“Maybe they need a good talking to. Both of them.”
“As of tomorrow, you’re in charge.”
“Josh, this has to be a joint decision.”
“My take on it is that they’ve got enough on their plate without further scolding. They know they blew it.”
“It simply is not acceptable.”
“You’re telling me. If Michael keeps going down like this, Pendleton could choose to let him go. Their standards are pretty high.”
“You mean expel him?”
“It hasn’t reached that point yet, Victoria. But it could.”
“Never,” Victoria snapped, her voice rising. “They had better not.”
He was surprised at her militancy.
“It’s their right.”
“Never mind their right. They will never expel him. Take my word for it.”
>
Her comment was puzzling. He could hear her hard breathing at the other end of the line, which seemed strange.
“Are you all right, Victoria?” he asked, genuinely concerned, as if they were still devoted spouses.
“I’m fine,” Victoria said belligerently. “Why do you ask?”
“Never mind,” he sighed, waiting through another long silence. “Are you still there?”
She cleared her throat.
“I was thinking about that other matter… the thefts.”
“They are only objects, Victoria. Things.”
Shades of his parents, he thought suddenly. Just things. In the end it killed them.
“You’re being self-righteous, Josh. It doesn’t become you.”
“Victoria,” he muttered, angered by her words and his memories. “I really don’t give a shit about your fucking ink wells or hats or whatever.”
“I’ll ignore that remark. And I’d advise you to watch your help. She could be pulling the wool over your eyes.”
From where he stood, he could see Evie bustling around in the kitchen.
There was another long pause at both ends of the line. He had no wish to pursue the matter further. Not at that moment.
“You’re a hard woman, Victoria,” he said.
“I tried the other way. A lot of good it did me.”
The phone went dead.
***
Later, he sat alone in the den while Evie cleaned the kitchen. His expression had given him away and Evie had suggested that he might need some solitude. He was thankful for her sensitivity. Thinking about the situation, he felt mired in frustration and failure. Worse, he sensed that a profound depression was beginning to afflict him. He wanted to cry but the tears would not come.
“Was Mom angry?” It was Michael’s voice. He had come downstairs followed by Emily, who carried Tweedledee in her arms. From their rooms came the sounds of television.
“A little,” he sighed.
“At us?”
“That’s only part of it, children,” he said, reaching out and embracing them both.
“We’re sorry, Daddy,” Emily said, still holding Tweedledee. “We talked it over. We’re going to work real hard, aren’t we, Mikey?”
“Real hard.”
“I know you will.”
He continued to hold them, wondering how it would all turn out in the end. He was not optimistic.
“It’s only natural, kids,” he reassured them. “Probably a consequence of what you’re going through. Things were much better when we were all together.”
Josh felt comforted by their presence and this show of affection. There was also another factor becoming more and more apparent to him; their solidarity. It reminded him again of the bond between Evie and himself.
“You’ll make it, guys,” he said. “I know it.”
“We’ll get better, Dad,” Michael said. “You’ll see.”
Emily nodded and kissed Tweedledee on the head.
“I’ll never let you down, guys.” He drew in a deep breath. “Neither will Mom.”
“We know that, Dad.”
“But we do have a question, Daddy,” Emily said.
“Maybe I should ask it, Emmie,” Michael whispered.
“No. I want to ask it. You said I could.”
“It’s a very hard question,” Michael persisted, raising his voice.
Josh braced himself.
“Why don’t you and Mommy live together anymore?” Emily blurted.
“We told you. Because we were unhappy living together,” Josh said. It was the party line that he and Victoria had agreed to.
“No you weren’t,” Michael said.
“Now how would you know that?” Josh asked gently. It was obvious that the explanation hadn’t made its point.
“We live here too, Dad,” Michael said.
“Yes we do,” Emily seconded.
“Did something happen?” Michael asked.
“What happened was… well, she got to be unhappy is all,” Josh replied, realizing that his answers were becoming more and more evasive.
“We think you should get together again,” Michael said, glancing at his sister as if they had scripted the remarks.
“If you really love us, like you say you do, then you should do that,” Emily said. Both children were serious and unsmiling.
“Easier said than done.”
“We should all get another chance, Dad,” Michael said.
“Maybe we all deserve another chance. Mommy, too,” Josh said, surrendering to the idea. He gathered his children to him and embraced them.
“We need to be together, Daddy,” Emily said. “Like it was before.”
A lump began to grow in Josh’s throat.
“I couldn’t agree more.”
“Then why don’t you make it happen?” Michael said, his words firm, as if it were an order. “You’re the father.”
He felt as if his heart would break.
“Maybe I have to go back to Daddy school,” he replied quickly, swallowing hard. At that moment, an idea popped into his head.” Maybe you should be having this discussion with Mom.”
“We’re going to, aren’t we, Emmie?” Michael said.
“Yes we are, Daddy,” Emily said firmly.
“Good.”
He gathered the children together in a tighter embrace, kissed their heads, and then patted them both on their rears.
“Now get on upstairs and stop trying to figure out the weirdness of adults.”
***
When they had gone, Evie emerged from where she was standing nearby.
“I heard, Josh,” she said. “It broke my heart.”
“How do you respond to such an appeal? I feel so helpless.”
“Josh. They’re part of this family. They had every right to have something to say about what is happening to them.”
“Unfortunately, divorce is about adults, not kids. The sad fact is that they don’t get to vote, Evie.”
“Maybe they should.”
“We didn’t,” Josh sighed, his vision blurring with tears.
Chapter 15
One evening during her two-week stint, Victoria, her mother, and the children went to the performance of Annie at the Pendleton Hall auditorium, which they all seemed to enjoy. After the show, the audience gathered in an adjoining room and Mr. Tatum, looking his usual patrician self, made a short complimentary speech about the performance. Victoria listened with a combination of amusement and disgust, recalling the image of him in the car, penis aroused, demanding sexual favors. At one point, their eyes met and she could see the sudden stab of fear in them as he quickly diverted his attention.
As Tatum mingled with the crowd, she felt him observing her, and soon he was moving in her direction. It struck her as odd, since she thought he would have gone to great lengths to avoid her.
“How are you, Mrs. Rose?” he asked.
“Very well, thank you,” she said without expression, noting that her mother and her children were a safe distance from them.
“We’ve got a problem, Victoria,” he whispered. He was unsmiling and seemed genuinely anguished. “I was going to call, but I feared your reaction.”
“You were very wise,” she said belligerently.
“We have to talk,” he whispered.
“Not again, Tatum.”
“It’s serious, Victoria.”
“He’ll improve. I guarantee it.”
“It’s not that.”
“Not that?” She was startled.
“I’ve been trying to keep a lid on this,” he said, looking genuinely upset. “I can’t any longer. It’s out of hand.”
“What is?”
“Not here,” he said quickly. Mrs. Stewart came to join t
hem, and Victoria introduced them.
“I loved the play, Mr. Tatum,” she said.
“Thank you,” he said, turning to Victoria. “So nice seeing you again, Mrs. Rose.” Then he moved away.
She felt her mother inspecting her.
“My God, you’ve turned ashen. What’s wrong?”
“I’m fine, Mother.”
Later, after they’d gone home, Victoria went into Michael’s room.
“Mr. Tatum wants to talk to me,” she said. “Is there anything I should know?”
Michael looked up at the ceiling, as if he were mulling possibilities. Finally, his eyes met his mothers.
“I’m gonna do better, Mom. I told you that.”
“It wasn’t about your report,” she said, closely observing him.
“It wasn’t?” Lines of concern creased his forehead.
“Is there something I should know, Michael?” she asked.
“About what?”
“Must be something,” she mused aloud.
He shook his head and shrugged. She kissed him and left the room.
In three days, she would put the household back in Josh’s hands. For the first time since they had put the system into effect, she was having second thoughts. She was tempted to call Josh at the office and discuss the situation, but she decided against it. In her present state, she knew she would get emotional and accusatory.
Tatum called early the morning after the play and she agreed to meet with him, but only in his office.
“Of course in my office, Mrs. Rose,” he said officiously. “This is school business.”
“I’ve heard that before,” she said with a sneer before hanging up.
***
She was ushered into his office. Instead of directing her to the chair in front of his desk where he had made his initial proposition, he directed her to the conversational grouping where they had had their meeting with the Crespos.
“I’m in a bind, Mrs. Rose,” he said, his voice barely audible. She noted that he looked fearfully toward his office door.
“That’s pretty obvious, Gordon.”
“Please, Mrs. Rose, let’s keep this formal.”
“Whatever you say. Now what’s this all about?”
