Chapter 21 #2
She had always thought that her parents were better than those of Clarissa, Kaitlin, Madeleine and the people she knew in those circles.
She had thought, every time they enquired about why she was single and why she hadn’t married, that she was holding out for the real thing, like her parents had.
That every time someone broke up with her, it would be fine in the end because she may be alone for a time but then she would find her true Prince Charming.
Smart, attractive, hardworking, challenging in the best of ways.
Someone to fill her empty days with love, purpose, conversation.
That was what made her better than those women.
But it had all been premised on falsity.
An hour and two dirty martinis passed, with Loretta gossiping about ‘friends’ and affairs and the drug-related death of a man she was once ‘familiar’ with. The entire time, Loretta’s facial expressions did not, or could not, change, Rosalie observed.
‘Loretta,’ Luisa said tentatively, entering the lounge. ‘Dinner is ready. Would you like me to keep it warm or serve?’
Loretta set down her empty glass and rose to stand in her strappy sandals. ‘Oh, let’s eat. Who knows what time Hunter will make it home.’
Had it always been this way? Rosalie thought back to the number of family meals they had scheduled when Hunter had turned up late. She had always put her father’s absence down to being busy with work. Had every time been a lie? Had there been other women before Andrea?
No. She couldn’t believe it.
Rosalie took a seat in the dining room, at the large, intricately carved walnut dining table.
She sat opposite her mother and they left a space at the head of the table for Hunter.
It had never bothered her before that her father was the head of the house and the head of the table, even the head of hers and Loretta’s lives.
But tonight, her skin prickled with irritation.
A real role model, she thought.
As Luisa set down light cheese soufflés in front of the women, Hunter appeared.
‘I’m here,’ he announced, floating in, kissing Rosalie on the head and Loretta on the cheek, then taking a seat, setting his two cell phones upside-down on the table next to him.
Was one a work phone and one an adultery phone?
‘Where’ve you been, Daddy?’ Rosalie asked, her tone clipped, unable to be her usual chirpy persona.
She adored her father and loved seeing him but tonight, she felt nothing toward him except anger, distrust and shame.
Hunter was clearly taken aback by her tone. ‘At work, darling. You don’t seem happy. What’s happened now?’
The way he asked her, as if she was some kind of drama queen, irked her. She scowled, trying to decide whether to call him out for romping with her best friend behind her mother’s back. Then she looked at Loretta and knew this wasn’t the right way to go about things.
Luisa reappeared with a third soufflé and poured Hunter, then Loretta, each a glass of Hunter’s preferred red wine. When she came to fill Rosalie’s glass, Rosalie held her hand over the top.
‘No, thank you, Luisa. I’m driving tonight.’
‘Driving?’ Hunter asked. ‘Why would you drive? You don’t usually drive.’
‘Why would anyone do anything that wasn’t expected of them?’ Rosalie quipped.
Hunter dabbed the corner of his mouth with his napkin and set it down on the table, holding Rosalie’s glare.
‘I need to speak with you,’ Rosalie said.
‘Oh, Rosalie, if it’s about me gifting you a recording label again, I’ve already told you, no.’
Rosalie gasped. ‘You didn’t. You said if I got experience I could have a label.’ She scoffed. ‘You never had any intention of following through, did you? Gosh, you really are a liar. You think I’m stupid. Silly Rosalie and her silly ideas.’
‘I do not think you’re stupid, Rosalie, though you are being extremely dramatic.’
‘Rosalie, what has gotten into you?’ Loretta asked.
‘Maybe I’m just finally seeing the sky through the clouds, Mom. Daddy, I want to speak with you and it isn’t about a recording label, though it is related to your lies and deceit.’
The response she received – which was Hunter staring knowingly at Rosalie – confirmed what she already knew. But there were more questions and answers she wanted.
‘After dinner,’ Hunter said, reaching for his wine.
The remainder of the three-course meal Luisa had prepared was endured mostly in excruciating silence and partly in painstakingly pointless snippets of conversation led by Loretta.
When Luisa offered Rosalie after-dinner coffee, Rosalie declined, staring at her father.
Hunter nodded in understanding, rising from the table. ‘Luisa, I’d like a glass of port in the library.’
‘Yes, sir,’ Luisa said.
‘I think he meant to say “please”, Luisa,’ Rosalie said, realising that everything about her father was arrogant and wondering if he had always been this way.
Rosalie followed Hunter to the third-floor library, which was lit only by lamplight from the desk that sat on a rug in the middle of the dark wood floor, the walls around them full of books.
Hunter perched on the edge of the desk, facing her. ‘You wanted to talk.’ It was not a question but a statement. It was cold and direct and Rosalie had an insight into his work manner.
‘How long?’ she said.
He unfolded his arms and rested his hands against the edge of the desk either side of him. Confident. Bold. Unafraid.
‘How long what?’ he asked.
His conceit was the final straw. ‘How long have you been fucking Andrea?’
He wasn’t startled, or affronted, or ashamed. In fact, his demeanour didn’t change at all as he told his daughter, ‘It’s over. It was a mistake and I can understand why you’re upset but I ended it weeks ago. She begged me not to but I did because I knew it was wrong. I knew it would hurt you.’
Rosalie had known that it was true. Hannah wouldn’t have lied.
Yet her stomach sank. Her dinner was in danger of making a reappearance.
The way he spoke told her it had been more than a one-off.
And he had ended it. She wasn’t sure what would have been best – that he had ended it, that Andrea had ended it, or that they had mutually decided a onetime mistake should never be repeated.
What she did know was that her heart broke again when she thought it was already broken entirely. She shook her head, willing herself to stay strong.
Hunter stood and walked to his daughter, reaching out to her shoulders.
Rosalie shrugged him off. ‘Don’t touch me.’
He dropped his hands. ‘I know you thought she was your friend, Rosalie, but look how she treated you. You just don’t have the best judgement when it comes to people and I’m sorry you had to find out this way.’
‘Sorry I had to find out in a certain way or sorry I caught you out at all?’ she snapped. ‘How dare you blame this on my judgement of character? You did this to me, to Mom, to our family.’
‘And I ended it, Rosalie. What more do you want?’
He shook his head as he walked back to the desk. ‘You know, I blame myself for your ignorance. You’ve been too sheltered from real life.’
‘Excuse me? Are you really trying to say this is okay? That you lying to us is acceptable?’ She paced the floor with anger that made her hands tremble. ‘You’re not even remorseful, are you?’
Hunter sighed, as if Rosalie was taking up precious time he couldn’t be bothered to give.
‘I’m sorry it was Andrea and I’m sorry I’ve hurt you, Rosalie. But you’re a grown woman and it’s about time you stopped being so na?ve. Life isn’t all love songs, flowers and chocolates.’
She stopped pacing and confronted him. ‘What exactly is that supposed to mean?’ she yelled, unable to contain her temper.
‘It’s supposed to mean’ – Rosalie turned to see her mother, moving from the doorway into the library to join them – ‘that your father and I have a very nice life. It works for both of us and it has always worked for you.’
‘You knew?’ Rosalie asked, her shock making her words barely more than a whisper.
‘I realised it was Andrea the night of the Presley John commemoration concert. I told your father I didn’t approve and that it would hurt you if you found out. He assured me he would end it.’
Rosalie tried to process what she was being told. ‘I just don’t… I can’t understand this.’
Loretta moved to Hunter’s side and placed a hand on his forearm. ‘Rosalie, your father and I understand that we both have needs that we can’t meet for each other.’
‘Have there… been more women?’ Rosalie asked, terrified of the answer.
‘Yes,’ Hunter said. ‘And men,’ he added, inclining his head toward his wife.
Rosalie stared at her parents, seeing them for the first time in more than thirty years in a completely new light.
Na?ve indeed. What a fool she had been, always searching for a man like her daddy.
Aspiring to have a life like theirs – wealthy, stylish, indulgent, proudly deserved, full of love.
The perfect life that ticked every box on her own checklist.
She looked at them now, the picture of a happily married couple, and she had no idea who they were, or who she was.
With nothing left to say, she turned her back on them and their illusion of a perfect home.