Chapter Seven
Alfie
My mom’s new townhouse sits in the Queen Anne neighborhood overlooking Seattle’s iconic city skyline.
She has a hanging basket outside her front door with petunias and fuchsias, further brightening up a doorway which is painted a shade of yellow similar to lemon.
Inside is even more feminine. Long gone is the mahogany furniture that darkened every room alongside every psychology textbook and paper ever published.
Mom has created a home that is bright and full of color, somewhere she is completely comfortable.
She bought it with the money she got from the divorce, with a little help from me and my brother Teddy. Both of us have done well in our respective careers, Teddy especially being one of the best defensemen in the NHL.
Penelope Adams, who has kept her married name, is a five-foot-four, auburn-haired woman in her early sixties.
She raised me and my two brothers practically alone as my father was working twenty-four seven as a psychologist. I always think of her as a very unhappy woman, but that couldn’t be farther from the truth now.
She lives well in her independence. Seeing friends, hosting dinner parties, enjoying her life as she should, without having to look after a seventy-year-old man-baby that can’t boil a kettle by himself.
“How is everything going, darling?” She places the teacup in front of me despite me only ever drinking coffee unless I’m here.
We’re sitting in her kitchen, my favorite room of the house.
A photo of Teddy, Miles, and I at a cousin's wedding a few years ago sits proudly next to her giant fruit bowl. Teddy is grinning ear to ear, pleased that he had already met one of the bridesmaids he would later take home that night. Miles looks sullen, and I look like I’m begging for the photoshoot to be over as soon as possible.
“Fine, fine.”
“Seeing anyone?” She starts to pour from a floral painted teapot before adding a dash of milk for me.
I wait for her to finish and promptly bring the teacup to my lips and sip, allowing the hot tea to scorch my tongue. “I presume you have seen the articles?”
She laughs. “Darling, I am on the Facebook and the Instagram, as you know.”
“It’s just Facebook and Instagram, not the Facebook or the Instagram, Mom.”
She smiles like she’s told a joke before waving her hand around as if to swish my words away.
“Mia works for me.”
“How scandalous. Good for you.”
“Mom!”
“What? As long as everyone is consenting. You forget I’ve met her a few times. She is wonderful. Perfect for you.”
“She’s completely unpredictable and, frankly, terrifying. I’m not sure how you think she’s perfect for me.”
My mom simply gives me a knowing smile and nods.
“Your brother has also been making headlines, I see.” She hands over her phone with a headline that says Teddy Bear’s Picnic Turns Into Teddy Bear’s Orgy, with a photo of Teddy and three women entering a hotel room. Jesus Christ.
“You have got to stop reading the news. If there are any emergencies, I will phone you immediately, but for the love of God, woman, please stop reading this garbage.”
“How else would I learn about your love lives?”
“I’m not sure this counts as a love life.” I point to her phone and the aforementioned headline, starkly raising my eyebrows.
“Maybe he’s in a polyamorous relationship.”
“I highly doubt that.”
“So you’re strictly monogamous then?” Her eyes sparkle with a lightness that is new to her. I’ve rarely seen this side of her personality and despite how uncomfortable I am, I’m pleased she’s happy.
“Mom, please.”
I deflect rather than outright lie, something I’m making somewhat of a habit of.
My father lied enough to her. Making empty promises that only led to her being sad and alone during the prime of her life.
But what am I meant to say? We’re stalking my patients together, so now it looks like we’re dating?
My father might be the one with the power to keep me sectioned, but my mother would be the first to put me there if she found out what I’d been up to.
And Mia? She’d lose her career before it even started.
Best to keep this under wraps until it all blows over.
I’ll stay as far away as possible from the woman who works fifteen feet from my desk and act like the professional psychologist I know I am.
“It wouldn’t hurt for you to get out there, darling. I worry about you.”
“Why? Everything is going perfectly.”
“No…work is going perfectly. There is room for everything.”
“Mom, dad was never home. You were basically a single parent because of the stress of his job. He was never around, and I can’t put someone through that.”
“Alfie Adams, you are not using your father as an excuse to not date, are you?”
I shrug, finishing the dregs of my tea.
“Alfie…your father made his choices, but they don't have to be yours.”
“Mom, please don’t. I’m not going to make someone miserable like he made you.” Her head recoils like I’ve slapped her, and my chest feels like someone’s driven over me.
“I made my choices too,” she whispers. “And I regret letting him treat us all that way for all that time. But you’re not your father, Alfie. You can make different choices.”
She has no idea what she’s talking about, because she doesn’t know that I did make different choices before.
She doesn’t know that my father helped keep the scandal of one of my patients trying to kill themselves right after our session a secret.
A session where I had been so distracted because my girlfriend at the time and I had been fighting that I didn’t pick up on the call for help.
I was so focused on my own life, my own problems, my patient nearly died.
My father had helped me then, but he chooses to remind me of it every time I see him now. So I avoid him as much as possible, promising myself and my patients that I will never risk their lives ever again.
◆◆◆
Sometimes when you speak of the devil, you summon him.
And talking of my father this afternoon led me to find him leaning against his 1978 Jaguar outside of my house.
His thick white hair is coiffed, his bushy eyebrows trimmed, and he’s clean shaven.
I don’t think I’ve ever seen him with so much as a five o’clock shadow.
He’s styled as if he’s visiting The Hamptons, a crisp white shirt under a merino zip neck woolen beige sweater with slacks. This is as casual as my father comes.
“Father.”
“Alfie. Where have you been? I’ve been waiting.”
He says it with a tone like I’m late, when really he didn’t let me know he was coming, so I say what I know will annoy him most—the truth.
“I was visiting Mom.” I stalk past him, the crunch of gravel under my feet as I head straight for my house.
As I walk through the entryway, I leave the door open for him, knowing I have no choice about whether he’s going to come in.
That’s the thing about Arnold Adams. He demands an audience, and he’ll be a nuisance until you give in.
Might as well get it over with. At least I have Dinner Club tonight, and the prospect of getting shit-faced really does make this minor speed bump worth it.
“And how is your mother?” His voice was laced with a hint of resentment.
“Very happy. A budding social life all whilst trying to gather details about mine and Teddy’s love lives.”
“If she reads the papers, she’ll find out everything she needs to know.” His mustache bristles, the deep lines between his brows making an appearance.
And that took less than a minute to work out why he’s really here.
Perfect.
Another conversation about my nonexistent love life. This time, with the parent who adds nothing to my life and yet feels he can have the most say.
“What do you need, Dad? I’m getting ready to go out.”
He tuts, swiping a finger along the bookshelf I know is clean because Maria came to clean the house yesterday as she always does on a Friday.
“I was pleased to see you’re dating. And a receptionist of all things.”
I stay silent for a moment despite a spark of anger threatening to ignite inside me.
He is about to insult Mia. I can feel it in my bones.
Even the way he said receptionist is off.
Mia is my receptionist, but she’s more than that too, and I don’t like that he’s insinuating she’s somehow less than I am.
“That’s good…”
Wait…good? I had assumed he would think it unwise to date an employee.
“If you marry her, you won’t have to pay her and you can replace her once you have children. It will be easy for her to leave a non-skilled job and stay at home.”
I sniff, my lips flattening into a straight line.
Patricide is frowned upon in polite society, isn’t it?
The blood rushing in my ears is making it hard to remember all the different types of murder that are illegal.
I hate him.
I hate him so much.
“I’m not going to date someone so I can eventually make them my unpaid receptionist and vessel for procreation.”
He rolls his eyes. Yes, Dad, I’m the annoyance in this situation.
“When are you proposing?”
I cough, my eyes bugging out. Propose? I’m not even dating her. I can’t date her. She doesn’t deserve to enter this fucked-up family where her future father-in-law has already shackled her to the kitchen sink.
“We’re just seeing each other, Dad. We’re not at that stage yet.”
“You’re old enough. You should be married by now. Children too.”
“I’m not planning on having children; you know this.”
“When I told you to not let yourself get distracted after you nearly let your patient die, I didn’t mean don’t pursue someone.
” I flinch at the mention of Stephanie. I knew she would come up eventually; she always does.
But it’s like a hot poker straight between my ribs every time, regardless of how well I brace myself for it.
“How are you going to take care of yourself if you don’t have a wife to cook for you when you get home?”
I open up my arms, showcasing my house, my ability to outsource cleaning to a paid service. I cook, I do my own laundry, I run my own errands. Small miracles, I know.
“I have lived alone for a long time, I’m sure I’m not going to forget how to cook spaghetti bolognese in the next five minutes.”
“Don’t take that tone with me. I’m looking out for you. It looks odd to my peers that neither of my sons are married yet. Theodore is gallivanting around doing God knows who. At least you chose a respectable profession. And Miles still has time to find someone suitable.”
“Teddy plays for the NHL. He’s worth more than you and me combined. He’s the best at what he does. So what if he blows off a little steam?”
“It’s disgusting the way he parades around.” He puffs out his chest, his face reddening.
“Well, don’t look at the articles then,” I say, blowing out a calm and steady breath.
“Excuse me?”
“Don’t look at them. Don’t read the articles or the gossip magazines or wherever you’re getting your information. I’m sure Teddy doesn’t keep tabs on everything you’re doing.”
“Why would he? I don’t do anything I would be ashamed of.”
I sigh, opening up the dishwasher so I can put things away. “I need to get ready, Dad. Are we done?”
“Cut that girl loose if you’re not going to marry her. And quit that TV show whilst you’re at it. It’s beneath you to listen to those people airing out their problems on television.”
He walks through the archway to the hallway, and I hear the front door slam.
The air clears as soon as he leaves, and I can breathe again.