A Doll Bill Cosby Might Get for His Daughter
Arriving back at the house on our bikes after our morning activities, the children and I found a long black vehicle, barely smaller than a limousine, pulling up outside Wonderland—a black Lincoln Town Car with South Carolina license plates.
The car was unfamiliar to me, but Hayward and Jilly knew who this was.
Neither one of them looked particularly happy about it.
Nobody seemed in a rush to greet the occupants.
“Our grandparents,” Hayward groaned. “They live in Hilton Head most of the time. My mom told me some friend of my grandpa’s kicked the bucket. They probably came for the funeral.”
A visit from the Cabots was a rare event, evidently. “My grandpa hates my dad,” Jilly explained as the three of us parked our bikes.
“Our grandmother’s not that wild about him either,” Hayward added. “They think our dad just married our mom so he’d get a bunch of their money.”
As we approached the house, a more immediate problem concerned me.
Ever since the arrival of Hurricane Brenda, Forrest had been gone for the better part of every day.
The note he left this morning said he’d gone for a “training swim”—a full seven miles around the lakeshore.
Judging from recent experience, he was unlikely to be home for another hour or two.
That wouldn’t be so bad if Regina were up, but her naps had been lasting longer and longer lately. This left the distinct possibility that it would be just the children and me entertaining our guests and having to come up with an explanation for the absence of their parents.
Prudence had let them in. Now the grandparents—Colson and Suzanne—sat side by side on the couch. Though it was just past lunchtime, they had their drinks in hand. Good call on the part of Prudence, who was back in the kitchen now, preparing snacks.
Just when I thought it was going to be up to me to keep the ball rolling, Forrest appeared. Still in his swim trunks, he’d come in straight from the lake, his impressive ab muscles on display. He was still drying himself off on the patio when he spotted them: the in-laws who despised him.
The man who stepped into the house now was either a long-distance swimmer who had just spent four hours making his way around the lake or—more likely—a man who had passed the majority of that time having sex somewhere with Brenda Barnett.
You could say that finding his in-laws in his house at just this moment was Forrest’s worst nightmare.
I watched him arrange his face. Within seconds he took on the role of genial host, offering a warm welcome to the only two individuals on the planet, possibly, who didn’t think he was wonderful.
He ran the towel briskly over his still-wet hair and wrapped it around his waist, then extended his hand with his usual open-faced grin.
“Colson! Suzanne! Regina didn’t tell me you were coming. Looks like Prudence already got you a drink!”
My weeks at the Lake Catherine Country Club had provided me with an education in the behavior of people like these two, and at the club I’d learned to tolerate them, but I didn’t do that now.
As hurt as I’d been by Forrest’s abandonment, I felt a surge of protectiveness and offense on his behalf.
It had taken me about four minutes to conclude that I hated the Cabots.
Forrest cast his eyes in the direction of the kitchen. I knew he’d be praying Prudence would bring a drink for him too. On the double. I could hear her in the kitchen preparing it.
He took a seat across from his in-laws. Forrest was always good at concealing any sign of trouble, but I knew, because I knew him so well, that he’d rather be almost anyplace else—the dentist’s office getting root canal surgery, a meeting with the Internal Revenue Service to discuss his tax return, a class in embroidery, cleaning a bilge pump—than where he was, in this beautiful room, in his beautiful house, overlooking a beautiful lake on a perfect summer day, with two people who probably wished he’d drop dead so long as he didn’t bleed on the furniture.
Across from them, the children slouched against the pillows of the other couch. Hayward examined his fingernails. Jilly kept her hands in her lap.
“Come say hello to your grandparents,” Suzanne instructed them. Jilly approached the couch, offering a gesture resembling a hug. Hayward followed. For Colson, the greeting was a handshake.
“They’re getting so big,” he observed to his wife. “Aren’t you a pretty girl?” he said, addressing Jilly. How was a six-year-old supposed to respond to that one?
“You want to see my Teddy Ruxpin, Grandma?” Jilly said. “He talks.”
“Did you get the doll I sent you?” her grandmother asked. The latest American Girl.
“I sent you a thank-you note,” Jilly reminded her. Regina would have made sure of this.
“Oh, right. I hope you liked it. I have to say, those dolls are no bargain.”
Prudence set out the plate of cheese and crackers. Colson reached for an olive. Forrest took a long sip from the Bloody Mary Prudence had delivered to him in record time.
“So how was your drive?” he asked.
“We stopped in Boston for the night,” Suzanne offered. “The Parker House.”
“I’ve had their rolls,” I told them. Trying to be helpful. It was meant to be a joke, sort of.
“Getting a lot of golf in this summer?” Forrest asked his father-in-law.
“Not particularly.” End of conversation.
Jilly had returned now with the toy to show her grandmother—her talking bear. Hayward had already made his way over to the gaming console. We could hear the sound of a game he’d acquired recently coming from where he sat, The Legend of Zelda.
Suzanne cast her eyes over Forrest, bare chested and still dripping on the couch.
“Looks like you’ve been doing some swimming,” she observed.
Still with his towel around his waist, Forrest reached for his shirt.
A damp spot had formed underneath him. No doubt Suzanne would disapprove.
Regina was particular about the upholstery. I saw where she got it from.
“I’m training for a triathlon,” he said. “Labor Day weekend.”
“I never had the time for that kind of thing,” Colson said. “Something called work. Corporations don’t run themselves.”
We sat in silence. I reached for a chip. Colson did likewise. Suzanne—not quite as skinny as Regina, but getting there—abstained. Jilly, with her mouth full, pushed Teddy Ruxpin’s button. For once I was glad to hear his stupid singsong voice: “Can you and I be friends?”
“I got him for kindergarten graduation,” Jilly told her grandmother. “Want to see my room?”
“We have to be heading out, unfortunately,” Suzanne said. “Your grandfather and I have dinner reservations. Tomorrow’s the service for Harold.”
“You aren’t having supper with us?” Jilly asked her. They didn’t act anything like the grandparents on The Waltons reruns she watched on Nickelodeon. But as little enthusiasm as these two demonstrated for the role, they were still her grandparents.
“Maybe next time,” Suzanne said. Jilly looked vaguely disappointed. Or maybe just surprised.
All this time, Regina had yet to put in an appearance. Neither of her parents had mentioned this. It was Forrest who did, finally.
“If you’re not sticking around for dinner, I’d better see what’s keeping that daughter of yours,” he told them. He’d brought out his best imitation of the old Forrest, the one I loved, not much in evidence lately. “You know Regina. Always off someplace, up to something.”
We all knew the truth. She was up in her room. Regina hardly ever went anywhere.
“I’ll be right back,” Forrest said. As if his in-laws might miss him.
An awkward silence fell over the room again. Prudence asked Colson if she could refill his drink. “I’m driving,” he told her.
This was when Suzanne addressed me for the first time. “So what brings you to Lake Catherine, dear?” she asked. “Are you one of the children’s young friends from the club?”
Yeah, right. Almost fifteen years old, and I’m hanging out with a couple of spoiled pip-squeaks. For fun.
“I’m the babysitter,” I told her. “I come from New Jersey.”
“New Jersey.” She considered this for a moment. “The shore?”
“Hubbard. My dad and Forrest grew up together.”
Something inspired me to go further with this. Maybe it had something to do with the weird dark side of myself that had been coming out for a while in the pages of my journal. The Bad Girl.
“Forrest was really bad at reading and spelling. My dad wrote his papers for him. Sometimes he’d forge notes for the two of them when they wanted to skip school. They snuck into the movies a lot. One time they watched four James Bond movies in a row.”
I studied Colson’s and Suzanne’s faces as I spoke. Nothing. But I was on a roll.
“How interesting,” Suzanne said. “I guess we’ll be heading back to the hotel.” She reached for her bag. She was one of those women who brought her purse with her wherever she went. You never knew when you might have some shopping to do. Or one of the servants might try to steal your charge cards.
This was when Regina appeared at the foot of the stairs. She was wearing one of her floaty dresses. I guessed that Forrest had encouraged her to put it on so she’d look a little more normal, though she didn’t.
“Hello, Mother.” She drifted over to where Suzanne sat checking her lipstick to receive a kiss.
“Father.” He turned his head to receive what passed for a kiss.
“Keeping your figure, I see,” he observed. Did he think it looked good, her being so skinny?
“It’s too bad about Harold,” she said.
“He’d been in the nursing home for almost ten years,” Colson told her. “The last time we saw him, he thought I was his father. Miserable life.”
“I guess in that case your friend dying could be a relief,” Forrest said. “When a person gets like that, it’s a huge burden on the family, right?”
Colson gave him a look. You might have called this the evil eye. I could read his mind. He was thinking that this was what his son-in-law’s attitude would be toward him someday, when he was the one to kick the bucket. Why would anyone feel otherwise?
Suzanne had her hand on the doorknob now.
Maybe Regina felt a need to make one last try, because she turned to her mother and said, “I’ve been working on a knitting project.” Meaning the white mohair thing that never seemed to progress beyond the fourth row of stitches.
“Too bad you chose white. One drop of red wine and it’s ruined,” Suzanne said. They were out on the steps now. Short as their visit had been, it seemed like the right thing to walk them to the car. The scene felt so awful, I thought I’d help.
“Jilly loves her new doll,” I offered.
“I wish they’d make a Black one,” Jilly said. I would not have expected this from Jilly. She was definitely trying to get a rise out of her grandparents. Maybe visits from the Cabots brought out the bad girl in all of us.
“Those dolls are expensive.” Suzanne again. “They make them for the type of people who can afford them.” Meaning white ones.
“Bill Cosby could afford to buy his kids American Girl dolls,” Hayward said. “Same with Michael Jordan, if he had a girl someday. Or Mr. T.”
The grandparents had taken their seats in the Lincoln by this point.
The six of us stood lined up in the driveway, watching.
Regina in her oversized housecoat. Forrest in his towel.
Jilly was still gripping her bear, whose recording device appeared to be malfunctioning in such a way that he kept saying the words special friend over and over.
Even Prudence was there, holding the refill Colson would not be needing.
Suzanne flipped down the passenger-side sun visor to check her reflection.
Something must have caught her eye in the rearview mirror.
She rolled down the windows. Her voice—which had seemed, for the entire duration of her visit, like that of a person in a commercial—took on an utterly different tone for a moment.
“What’s that you’ve put up in our old maple?” she said. She must have noticed the tree house Forrest had been building for Jilly. Unfinished.
“I thought we took that down years ago,” she said. “After—”
“It’s a different one,” Regina said. “This one’s for Jilly.”
“I can still remember the tea parties you used to have up there,” Suzanne said. “You and—”
“That’s enough, Suzanne,” Colson said. His wife rolled up the window on her side.
Regina went back into the house without further comment. Forrest and I stood there, watching the Cabots’ Lincoln disappear down the long driveway. When we stepped back in the house ourselves a moment later, Regina had gone back to bed.