13
I didn’t return home until close to dinnertime. But at least my father was no longer living in filth, even if he was subsisting primarily on peanut butter sandwiches. I had shown him how the washing machine worked, so he would hopefully have clean clothes. And I had six pages of notes filled with my ideas that I had talked out with my father—some of which were going to be a bit shocking. But if Michael would listen to me, well, Papa was confident he could if not win, then at least give Sam a real race. And that was a start.
But it was also a problem for the following morning.
Right now, I had to deal with my mother.
She was in the kitchen when I arrived home, and cooking, a feat I hadn’t witnessed in at least a decade.
“You’re back late,” she said without turning from the stove. “Did the lawyer hire you?”
There were carrots on the children’s plates, waiting for the rest of their meal, and I plucked one from Debbie’s plate and took a bite. “He did, actually.” Again, not a lie.
She looked up. “Really? As what?”
“Secretary. For now.”
“But your typing is atrocious. And what does ‘for now’ mean?”
“It means I didn’t go to a divorce lawyer. I went to see Michael Landau.”
“Is that Shirley Landau’s son?”
“No.”
“Rhoda Landau’s?”
“No relation to anyone we know.”
“Well, that just can’t be true. Who is he, then?” She had a point. It seemed that all Jewish families knew someone in common with each other. It was just a matter of finding who it was. Larry’s cousin on his mother’s side had gone to college with my cousin Marilyn before she inherited some ridiculous fortune from a great-aunt I had only met at my wedding.
“He’s running against Sam for the Senate seat.” I took another bite of carrot.
She put down the spoon she’d been holding and turned to look at me. “He—what? Start at the beginning, please.”
“How about you start at the beginning?”
“Excuse me?”
“I went to see Papa today. Why are you actually living here?”
She picked the spoon back up and resumed stirring the pot with a vengeance. “To help with the children. You wouldn’t have been able to get that secretary job without me here.”
“That’s not what you told Papa.”
The only sign that I had gotten to her was a slight droop in her shoulders. Then they returned to their perfect posture as she turned and pointed the spoon at me. “You are the last person to be questioning my marital choices.”
“Because I didn’t stay with a cheater?”
Debbie burst into tears. I didn’t realize she had snuck into the room. I gave my mother a warning look and she returned to the meal at the stove, stirring violently, then I picked Debbie up and sat at the table with her, my arms wrapped around her. “What’s the matter, darling?”
“You saw a cheetah and I dinn’t,” she said with a sniff. I turned away so she wouldn’t see the smile I was fighting to hide. “I yuv cheetahs.”
“You do? Last week it was elephants.”
“No. Cheetahs.”
I stroked her hair. “I suppose we’ll have to get you a stuffed one, then, won’t we?”
“We go to zoo?”
“Soon,” I said, nodding. “We can go very soon.”
“Today?”
“Not today, silly, it’s almost dinnertime.”
“Tomowow?”
I started to agree and then remembered that I was a working girl now. “No. It’ll have to be the weekend, sweetheart.” Her little face fell again. “But I promise we’ll go soon.” I could hear the sound of the television from the living room. “Go tell your brother dinner is almost ready.”
I set her on her feet, and she ran out of the room, shouting, “Robbie! We go to zoo tomowow!”
I shook my head as my mother set food on the table. “We’re going to talk about this more when the kids go to bed,” I said. She gave me a murderous glare but said nothing, and I stood to get drinks. As difficult as she was, it was nice not to have to cook after cleaning her whole house.
Once the kids were both asleep, I joined her in the living room where she was watching The Many Loves of Dobie Gillis . I switched the television off.
“So rude,” she murmured. “You get that from your father.”
“Well, leave, then. That seems to be your strategy these days.”
“I’m still your mother and won’t be spoken to that way.”
I closed my eyes and rubbed at my forehead. It had been a long day. “I’m sorry. But will you please tell me what’s going on? Papa was living in absolute squalor, and I spent the afternoon cleaning your house.”
“You’d think a grown man would be able to clean up after himself.”
“Mama. What happened?”
“Nothing happened.” She pulled a cigarette from the pack in front of her on the coffee table and lit it. “I could use a drink.” She looked up at me expectantly.
With a sigh, I went to the kitchen and poured two sherries. She took the one I offered with her free hand and took a sip, then another drag of her cigarette. “I do wish you’d smoke outside,” I said, opening the window before I sat in the chair across from her.
“You might as well have one too,” she said. “The doctors told me to smoke a cigarette and drink a cup of coffee whenever I got hungry when I was pregnant with you. They wouldn’t tell you to do that if it wasn’t good for you.”
“Yeah, they’re not saying that anymore. At least the good doctors aren’t.”
She shrugged. “You turned out fine. Unless you want to blame the failed marriage on me smoking while pregnant. It’s always the mother’s fault after all.”
I rolled my eyes, which I could get away with because she was studying her drink, not me. “If what’s happening is Papa’s fault, I still want to know.”
“No you don’t. He’s your knight in shining armor.”
I wouldn’t have put it that way. But I had gone to him to talk out my ideas about Michael winning. “Mama.”
She took another drink but still didn’t look at me. “It was fine when he was in the House. I understood then.”
I waited for her to continue, but she didn’t. “Understood what?”
Finally she looked over. “That what he was doing came first. He was legislating the country . I had no right to complain that he didn’t want to travel, or come to a dinner party, or even just hear about my day. But now? Now checkers in the park is more important than me. When do I get a turn to matter?”
I didn’t know what to say. No, there hadn’t been any infidelity, but I remembered staring at my wedding picture in its silver frame, and I did know what she meant. They say girls grow up and marry their fathers—Larry wasn’t Papa. He didn’t begin to measure up to him, and to be perfectly honest, I never thought he had. I had hoped he would grow into ... what exactly, I didn’t know. But he didn’t. Still, maybe I had married someone more similar to my father in some respects than I had realized.
“You matter,” I said softly, more to myself than to her.
“Well, of course I do to you . Why do you think I’m here?”
I had never seen my mother make a truly selfless gesture, and moving in with me wasn’t the first. I was a means to an end. A way to make herself feel needed and get out of the situation that she felt was making her unhappy. Not that I could say that to her.
Nor could I let her know about the little seed of determination that had just planted itself in my chest. My marriage was dead, but I knew I could save theirs. If all Papa had to do was make her feel seen and appreciated, they would be back together within the week.
What that meant for me and my new job, I didn’t know. But I wasn’t going to sacrifice my parents for my own independence.
I stood up, my drink untouched. “I’m going to bed. I have work tomorrow.”
“This Michael Landau,” she said, looking up at me. “Is he married?”
“No. Why?”
She pointed her cigarette at me. “Don’t you go falling in love with a politician. There are no happy endings there.”
We’ll just see about that, I thought, completely intent on restoring the happy ending to her marriage. “I’m not falling in love with anyone. I’m keeping my house for the kids.”
“And sticking it to Larry?”
I grinned. “Icing on the cake. Good night, Mama.”
“Switch the television back on, please. And leave that sherry. I’ll have it when I finish mine. You’re awfully stingy with your pours.”
I shook my head as I turned on the television. “Don’t stay up too late.”
She stubbed out her cigarette and reached for the pack, shaking out another one. “May you live long enough for your children to tell you what to do.”
“Hah! Have you met my tiny tyrants? They already do.”
“That’s a parenting choice,” she said.
“Good night, Mama,” I repeated, shaking my head again. Maybe my father had gotten the better deal and didn’t even realize it.