by Reese Ryan
We march slowly out of the kitchen, one by one, as if headed to a firing squad.
I freeze in the doorway of the room where I spent so much time with my dad. The room that became his makeshift bedroom when he’d grown too weak to climb the stairs anymore. I take a deep breath and look around. Everything’s just as it was before Dad got sick.
“It’s okay, girls,” my mother prods gently. “Come in.”
Mimi, Jamie and I sit on the rust-colored leather sofa that we’ve had for decades. For a moment I feel like I did back when I was twelve, sitting on the couch, watching a game with my dad. I half expect him to say, “When the next commercial comes on, get your old man a beer, eh, Mel?”
My mother sits on the coffee table in front of us, her hand on Mimi’s knee, her gaze on the floor.
“What is it, Mom? You’re scaring us.” Jamie leans forward in her seat. “Is everything okay?”
Mimi and I tense up, too. Mom takes a deep breath.
“I have to tell you girls something. Something I’ve been keeping a secret.”
Mimi, Jamie and I collectively hold our breath. We may be grown women, but we’re still women in desperate need of their mother.
“I’ve been seeing someone, my friend from the senior center, Walter Ferris. We’ve known each other for several years now and—”
Jamie and Mimi burst out laughing. I hold back a grin.
“Don’t ever scare us like that again!” Mimi says, still laughing. “Oh my God, are you serious? That’s it? That’s not a secret. Melanie figured that out when she came to visit months ago.”
My mother’s expression goes from anxious and nervous to one of complete shock. Her cheeks turn bright red. “But if you knew, why didn’t you say something?”
“You weren’t ready to tell us.” Jamie shrugs. “Guess now you are.”
“Besides,” I say, “you weren’t very forthcoming about those mystery shopping trips.”
My mother blushes. She leans in to kiss Jamie, Mimi then me. “I raised you three to be smart girls. Why am I surprised that you’re smarter than your mother?”
“I don’t know about smarter,” Mimi says, “but we’re just as nosy.”
“I’m not nosy.” My mother points a finger in Mimi’s direction. “Just concerned.”
“Whatever.” I evoke a word that drives my mother crazy. Jamie snorts. “So now that everything is out, tell us about Walter. How long have you guys been dating?”
“We’ve been friends for about three years. We’ve been seeing each other proper for the past year and a half.”
“I can’t believe Mom was able to keep a secret for that long,” Mimi says. Jamie and I laugh.
“I can keep a secret, alright. I’ve kept lots of secrets for the three of you.” She waggles her index finger at each of us in turn.
We each squirm a little, thinking of all the secrets she still has in her “vault.” Things we never want the other two to know. Like the fact that I ruined my aunt Grace’s white sofa when I got my period the first time. Or that Mimi couldn’t find her favorite Barbie for a week because I’d cut off all her hair, and Mom had to replace it with a new one. Mimi still has that damn Barbie, hoping for a little girl to give it to. She thinks it’s the same one. When she was a kid she decided the reason she couldn’t find her was because Barbie was on vacation at the Barbie beach house she didn’t have yet. Dad bought her one.
“You can keep a secret, you’re right,” Jamie says, quickly. She’s the person who likely has the most to hide. “We’re just surprised you managed to keep this to yourself for so long. Not that you needed to. We would’ve been cool with it.”
Mimi nods vigorously. I fall in line like a bobblehead doll.
“I should’ve realized that.” Mom squeezes Jamie’s hand.
“What made you finally tell us?” I ask.
My mother clears her throat and slides back farther on the coffee table. She sits up straight and looks at us intently. “I’m telling you now because...because I don’t want to hide this from my girls anymore. This relationship has blossomed into much more than a friendship...”
“You’ve been seeing Walter a long time,” Jamie encourages her. “Things must be getting serious.”
My mother smiles at Jamie gratefully. “I can barely believe I’m saying this about another man.”
Mimi, Jamie and I exchange glances again, a habit that dies hard. We’ve been doing it since I was eleven. My pulse quickens. My stomach flips. My mouth goes dry. We look at Mom, waiting for her to finish her thought. To say what we know will come next.
“This isn’t a passing phase. I have deep feelings for Walter. In fact, I love him. Very much.”
I sit frozen, the blood pounding in my ears. My heart nearly beating out of my chest. My mother loves this man. I was okay with the fact that she needed and wanted companionship. Someone to spend Saturday afternoon at the movies with, maybe even to be romantic with, though I shudder at the thought of them in bed. But love? I have a hard time relegating the space that should be reserved in my mother’s heart. The space that should always belong to my dad.
“And is the feeling mutual?” Jamie’s the only one who has the guts to ask this.
Mom laughs, releasing some of the tension she must be feeling. She pats Jamie’s knee. “It is.” She rummages in the pocket of her apron and produces a stunning, pear-shaped diamond ring.
My sister and Jamie gasp as Mom slides it onto her left ring finger. They ooh and ahh.
“That’s great,” I hear myself say. A twinge of guilt tugs at my insides. How can I sanction the fact that we’re making my father obsolete? I feel like I’m betraying him. My eyes fill with tears before I can stop them. I hug my mom and force a smile. “I’m really happy for you, Mom. You deserve this. You’ve done so much for us.”
Mimi and Jamie look at each other nervously.
My mom kisses my wet cheek and pushes a few stray curls off my face, tucking them behind my ear. She takes a handkerchief and wipes my tears. “Thank you for supporting me. I know this isn’t easy for you.”
I pull away from her, a frozen smile still plastered on my tear-stained face. “I’d better go check on the Western ribs.”
Rushing into the kitchen, I put on the oven mitts and check the ribs my mother put in the oven earlier. They’re fine, of course. Taking off the oven mitts, I toss them onto the counter. I lean over the sink, stomach churning. Suddenly, my mother’s hand is on my shoulder.
I turn to face her, still forcing a smile. She looks gorgeous today. She’s practically glowing. It’s the same look I see on Mimi and Jamie’s faces. They’re women in love. It’s a look that’s always escaped me.
“I loved your father very much, honey. We had a great run for nearly thirty years.”
“I know how much you loved Daddy. I didn’t mean to...I don’t want you to think...” I take a deep breath and wipe my hands on my jeans. “I’m happy for you, Mom. I meant that.”
“I know, and I understand how hard this is for you.” She touches my cheek gently, then lifts my chin to raise my gaze from the floor to her warm, brown eyes. “We all miss him, but I know you miss him most. Your dad loved you so much, Melanie. He wouldn’t want you to be mourning him this way. It won’t bring him back.”
I go to the sink and turn on the faucet to rinse a few bunches of broccoli. Maybe she’s right, but that’s not what I want to hear minutes after she’s declared her love for another man. “He’s my father. I can’t just forget about him.”
“Of course not!” Mom says.
“Then what’re you saying?” I turn off the faucet.
“It doesn’t honor his memory to mourn him so much that we stop living our lives.” She speaks slowly, deliberately. Like she did when I was five.
“I miss him. Nothing will change
that.”
“I know, and I’m certainly not trying to replace your father—in my life or yours. And what I’m about to say to you, it’s something I’ve needed to say to you for years. I just haven’t had the courage.”
I look at her attentively. I’ve had enough surprising news this week. I don’t know if I can take anymore. “Just say it, Mom.”
She takes my hand and leads me to the kitchen table. We sit.
“I loved your father, Melanie, and we had a good marriage. But he wasn’t perfect. He had his faults. I loved him despite those faults.”
“I never claimed he was.” My irritation is rising.
“But you do. Every time you try to force the men in your life to live up to this flawless picture of your father. A man who’s larger than life. A man who never really existed.” She says these words gingerly. Like she’s telling a schizophrenic the cat she thinks she has isn’t real.
I sit back in my chair, absorbing her words, trying to decide how to respond to them. I want to scream at her, to tell her she’s crazy. My dad might not have been perfect, but he was damn close. It isn’t my fault none of the men I’ve dated has been able to live up to the standard he set.
“That isn’t fair.” I blink back tears. “Even you and Mimi hated Jaxson.”
“Hate Jaxson.” My mother corrects me, using the present tense. “You’re absolutely right about him. He didn’t deserve you then and he doesn’t deserve you now. He never will. But what I don’t understand is why on earth you’ve given this man such a huge chunk of your heart. If every other man needs to live up to the standard you feel was set by your father, why doesn’t he? Why is Jaxson the exception to the rule?”
I shift uncomfortably in my seat. It’s a question I’ve often asked myself. “I don’t know,” I murmur, my eyes on the floor. “Maybe it’s because we were together when Daddy was alive.”
My mother nods. “I thought so.”
“I know you and Mimi hate him, but Daddy really liked Jax. Daddy said Jax reminded him—”
“Of himself at that age? I’ll bet he did. Jax reminds me of your father in his early twenties, too. But that isn’t a good thing.”
“What do you mean?” She has my complete attention.
My mother grimaces. She takes my hand in hers. Her eyes avoid mine.
“Mom, what is it? You can tell me. I won’t be upset. I promise.”
She grips my hands tightly. “I loved your father. But early in our marriage, he wasn’t the best husband.”
“He wasn’t the best husband how?”
“In the beginning your father was...well, he wasn’t the most faithful man.” She pulls away and wrings her hands. I’m not sure if her discomfort stems from painful memories of the past or the fact that she’s shattered my illusions of my perfect daddy.
I want to tell my mother it isn’t true. That my daddy wouldn’t, couldn’t be disloyal or jeopardize the happiness of his family. But as I look into my mother’s eyes I recognize the ache in her soul. It’s the pain that was reflected in the mirror when I’d learned Jaxson had been unfaithful to me.
“I’m sorry, Mom.” I kneel next to her and bury my head in her lap. “I didn’t know.”
“You weren’t supposed to,” she says. “It was a long time ago. I didn’t want to relive that period in our lives and I didn’t want you to think any less of your father.
“He was a changed man after you girls came along. I’d threatened to leave him before. He’d promise me the world, but I knew he was still seeing someone at his office. When I got pregnant with you, I knew I couldn’t bring my baby into a home filled with lies. The day I told your father I was pregnant, I gave him an ultimatum. He had to choose between that woman and his child.”
“You were considering having an—”
“God, no! I’d never get rid of my baby for some ridiculous man,” she says. “I was going to leave him and go back home to my parents in Milwaukee. Raise you there, in a house filled with love. I knew it would be tough raising a child alone. Even with the help of my parents. But I was determined to give you the same upbringing I had as a child. In a home with parents who loved each other and adored you.”
“So what did Daddy say?”
“He knew I meant it,” she says. She straightens the collar of my blouse. “He could see the determination in my eyes. He admitted the affair for the first time. Promised he wouldn’t see her again. I knew right then he meant it.”
“So he didn’t see her again? I mean, as far as you know.”
Mom holds my face in her hands and looks at me with steely eyes. “He never saw her or any other woman. Not ever again. He put in for a transfer, and we moved here. Lou was a changed man after that. He became a real husband and father, the love of my life. He always said nearly losing everything that mattered to him, that was the turning point in his life.”
“I would never have thought...would never have believed—”
“I know.” She sighs. “He was an excellent father and he became a good husband. You should adore your father. Every little girl should. But I did you girls a disservice by allowing you to believe your father was a saint. You especially. Mimi figured out she needed to find a man who was right for her. Not someone like her father. But you, it’s been a lot tougher for you, and I’m to blame.”
I shake my head and squeeze her hand. “It’s not your fault. It’s mine.”
“Don’t hold on to Jax because your father liked him. Jaxson, with all his charm and slickness, simply reminded your father of himself in younger days. That’s why they got on so well. Still, your father didn’t feel he was right for you. He was afraid of breaking his little girl’s heart.”
“Dad never had a problem telling me what school I should go to, what sport I should participate in or what career I should pursue.” I clench my fists so tightly that I can feel my nails digging into my palms. Feelings of resentment, feelings I didn’t know were there, bubble up to the surface. “So why all of a sudden would he keep his opinion to himself?”
“You’re angry.” Mom places her hand over my fist. I relax my hand and allow it to slowly open. She places her hand in mine and gives me a little wink. “It’s about damn time.”
“You want me to be angry?”
“I want you to stand up for yourself and go after what you want, not what you father wanted for you,” she says. “That’s what he wanted, too.”
“I don’t understand.” I shake my head, completely confused. “He wanted me to stand up for myself? Then why was he always there telling me what I should do, what was best for me? This doesn’t make sense.”
“A terminal illness makes you rethink your life, the choices you’ve made. Lou realized he’d made a mistake by putting you on his path, rather than allowing you to find your own. You did everything he asked of you, but he could tell your heart wasn’t in it. That you were doing it to make him proud, not because you wanted to. He felt like he’d crushed your spirit. So when you fell in love with Jax...he knew you needed to make your own decisions in life. That he wouldn’t be there to guide you. He said only one thing mattered—”
“That he made me happy,” I say, remembering the question my dad would ask me about Jax. Does he make you happy, baby? When I’d say yes, he’d say, Then I’m happy, too.
Mom nods. “He didn’t believe he did, but he needed you to make your own decision about him.”
Tears stream down my face. I wipe them away with my sleeve, the rough material scratching my skin. I’m shaking. “All I wanted was for Daddy to be proud of me. I know how disappointed he was not to have a son. I thought if I was good enough, he’d be satisfied with his daughters. Not just me, but all of us.”
Mom’s eyes glisten. She lifts my chin. “Is that why you tried so hard to be like him? Sweetie, how could you ever think we wanted anyone but you?”
“I heard you guys that night,” I say. “You were arguing. Dad wanted to try again. He said he wanted a boy, so he’d have someone to carry on the family name.” It’s the first time I’ve ever said this aloud to anyone.
Mom gasps, a tortured expression contorts her delicate features. “I’m sorry you heard that. Especially if that’s why you’ve tried so hard to be his little clone. But honey, your dad never regretted having you or your sister. He loved you girls. You must know that. Wanting a son, that’s something most men go through. It doesn’t change the fact that your father was damned proud of you. Not because you tried to follow his path, but because you’re a truly beautiful young woman on the inside and out. You were the light of his life.”
“Then why do I feel like a consolation prize?”
“You listen to me, Melanie Louise Gordon.” Mom grips my hand and peers at me intensely. “You could never be a disappointment to me or to your father. You’re an amazing person. We couldn’t be more proud of the woman you’ve become. Don’t ever let anything make you believe otherwise, you hear me?”
“I wish Dad had just told me he hated Jax. Then he could have kept his opinions to himself.” I smile slightly as I wipe my face with my free hand.
“He figured you’d be like your sisters. They never liked any boy we liked.” She laughs. “Pretending we liked one of their boyfriends was the quickest way to get rid of him.”
I laugh, too, remembering how Mom and Dad’s stamp of approval usually signaled the death knell for any of Jamie and Mimi’s relationships. “I was never really the rebel type.”
“No, you weren’t,” Mom says. “And we loved that about you.” She smiles. “The point is, don’t make a bad decision based on how you think your father felt about Jaxson or some illusion you’re holding of your father as being faultless. Decide what’s right for you, who is right for you.”
“Thanks, Ma.” I hug her tightly. “I needed to hear this.”
“I know,” she says.
I study my mother’s face. She has that look. The one that says she knows a lot more than she’s saying.
