Conundrum (22 page)

I looked up. The seagulls were gone, leaving a hole in the sky—a sky so bright it almost shimmered. The sun beating down on me seemed to illuminate Julie’s words
that still
hung
in the air, spotlighting an obvious detail I was missing.
There was more to the story. Something unsaid, something important.

Something Julie Hutchinson was hiding from me, and perhaps even
from
her father. Something Julie was afraid to tell me.

And, in that moment as I stood alone in the park, I knew I was afraid to hear it.

Chapter
14

Neal opened my mother’s front door before I rang the bell. I had considered running back to my car and driving off before being seen, but
he thwarted my plan before I chickened out. My stomach churned in acid, thinking of confronting my mother, of the begging I would soon do. When had our relationship turned so caustic?
Not that long
ago, it seemed, I would drive over to see my mother with anticipation and joy. Spending time with her had always been pleasant—we’d go shopping, walk along the path that meandered around the
b
ay,
go out to lunch, talk about books and movies. For the life of me, I couldn’t fathom how all this
hostility
had erupted. I was determined to find some compromise, magic words to say that would clear the air and restore the balance of harmony we had before.

But when I looked in Neal’s stern eyes and caught his grip on the threshold of the door,
what shred of
optimism
I had
fled with my voice.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, suspicion in his tone.

“What do you mean? I come over and visit Mom all the time. She’s here, isn’t she? Her car’s parked in the driveway.”
I
wanted to
ask him what he was doing home on a late Tuesday morning. Why he wasn’t out looking for work, seeing as he was again presently unemployed and apparently mooching off our mother
?
Tuesdays were when my mother worked at home.

Neal backed into the house as I heard my mother’s heels click on the tile floor. Her
newly purchased
two-story house on the water had Spanish tile throughout the downstairs, and the tall ceilings made the sound echo as she approached.

“Well, come in already,” she said, overhearing my voice. “You’re letting in all the
heat
.”

I went inside and cool air-conditioned air dried the perspiration on my forehead, sending a chill down my back.
I watched Neal retreat to the large rolltop desk in the far end of the living room, where he sat and went through papers.
I had hoped Neal would be out; I really didn’t want an audience and certainly didn’t need the two of them teaming up against me.

“Can we sit outside?” I asked as my mother got a can of Diet Dr. Pepper out of the fridge in the kitchen.
I noticed she didn’t offer me one. After she
clo
sed the refrigerator door and headed for the patio, I got out a can for myself. I glance
d
back to make sure
N
eal wasn’t following
us
outside and was relieved to see his back still turned to me.

My mother popped open her can and sipped as she took a seat in one of her patio chairs. The hot air was so still
that
the water on the
b
ay shone like glass, making me put my sunglasses back on.
I sat down with trepidation, gathering humility around me, telling myself to do whatever it took to appease my mother and make her back down. I pictured Jeremy’s anguished face
,
and my head started throbbing.

“Mom, I’m sorry about the other day, at lunch.”
M
y throat clog
ged up
. Tears filled my eyes
,
but I wiped my face
.
I was suddenly overcome with emotion. I was a little lost girl, wanting to feel my mother’s arms embrace me, and aching to realize that it wasn’t going to happen. I felt bereft
of all the many times I had needed those arms to comfort me—all through years of scrapes and hurts and disappointments. Instead, I had been chastised, criticized, pushed away.

I
stymied
the unwanted anger rising in my heart and
batted
it away with all my resolve. This was not the time. I was on a mission.
Anger would not serve me now.

I allowed my eyes to meet hers
,
and my heart sank. Where was the compassion I so desperately needed? All I found glaring back at me were two icy orbs of glass, like a hawk
’s gaze upon
its prey.
I knew then my mother wasn’t going to make this easy. And that she knew exactly what my game plan was. I was sunk before I even began. I re
s
ted my head in my hands and tried to still my
frantic
heartbeat.

“Lisa, what am I to do with you? Still the whirlwind, stirring everyone up, running roughshod over your brothers. Don’t you see what you’re doing? How Jeremy is twisting your thinking, turning you away from us?
How can you not see it?”

I bit my tongue. I would not rise to her baiting. Instead, I softened my voice. “What do you want from me, Mom? Just tell me.”

My mother snorted. I guessed I surprised her with that question. “Want from you? Lisa, I don’t want anything from you—I just want you to be happy. And you’ve been so unhappy recently. I know it’s hard when your marriage is falling apart—”

“My marriage is not falling apart. Jeremy and I have problems, sure. But so does everyone. Look at Raff and Kendra.”

“Well, of course they have problems—Raff’s illness is untenable
,
and Kendra is a saint, the way she holds up under his
e
rratic behavior.”
My eyebrows lifted at her unexpected praise for my sister-in-law. But comparisons must be made at some concession.

“
I’m just saying that what Jeremy and I are going through is fixable. We love each other, and we’re good together—despite what you might think.”

My mother shook her head in
her trademark
expression
of pity and disappointment.
“I know Jeremy has moved out. You can try to hide it all you want, but—”

“But that’s none of your business. If we need some space, some time apart to cl
e
ar our heads, what’s wrong with that?
” I heard the
defensiveness
rising in my voice and clamped my lips shut. I brought Jeremy’s anguished face back to mind and willed myself to calm down.

“Mom, we can’t do this—pay you a monthly rent on the property. There’s no way we can afford it.”

“There are ways to cut back. Stop eating out. Grow your own food—”

“Oh, come on, Mom, get real. How can we save twelve hundred a month by growing a
few tomatoes? And Jeremy and I rarely eat out. Or go shopping for clothes or frivolous things. Most of the money we’ve earned we’ve put into the house and property.”

“Well, you spend a fortune on feed for those animals. Why do you have to have so many? They don’t do anything. And you just took that extravagant trip to New York. What did that cost you?”

“Extravagant? The plane ticket was under a hundred.
Maybe if you didn’t eat out all the time, and buy expensive Italian suits and shoes and million-dollar homes
.
 
.
 
.
” I made a sweeping gesture with my hand and knocked my soda can over. Black fizzy liquid poured out on the flagstone patio
, like acid
.
The fizzing
seemed oddly symbolic of my relationship with my mother.
I knew I shouldn’t
have
finish
ed
that sentence, but I did, anyway. “
T
hen
you wouldn’t have to ask us for money.
Jeremy and I work damn hard to be responsible and frugal. We pay all our bills on time, don’t have credit card debt, make sure we keep everything up on your property, which has increased value many times over, as if I
needed
to remind you.”

I stomped my feet
as I
went into the kitchen to get a wet rag to clean up the mess I’d made.
I wished there was a rag I could use to sop up this bigger mess. I knew I had put my foot in my mouth, despite all my effort to remain in control. My mother knew every button I had
,
and she pushed them all with delight.

I felt her glar
e
at me as I wiped up the spilled soda. I set the soaked dish towel on the glass side table and turned to look at her. Her voice came out even and unemotional.

“What I spend my money on is none of your business. And beside the point. I earn my money, and I have the right to spend it as I choose. When are you going to stand on your own two feet and stop taking handouts? If you were leasing that property from anyone else, you’d have to pay rent.
You’re not a child anymore; how long do you think I’m going to support you?”

“Support me? Jeremy and I work hard. You don’t support us.” My words came out in fits and starts. I had trouble catching my breath, as if I had just run a mile. I pointed into the house. “If you’re so gung-ho about having your children stand on their own two feet, what’s Neal doing here—eating your food and lounging on your couch
?
Why don’t you kick him out and make him get a life?”

My mother cocked her head and stared at me as if I
were
speaking Latin. “This is not about Neal. This is about fulfilling your obligations and carrying your own weight.”

“No, mother.” I dragged out those words. “This is about you and Jeremy. You just can’t
tolerate anyone
who won’t
grovel
,
who isn’t
ready to
rush to do your bidding at your
slightest
command
. You’ve tried to train him to be a faithful puppy dog
,
but it didn’t work. It’s not enough you have two sons that
slobber
at your feet, you had to do everything you could to break Jeremy’s back. To break his spirit. You can’t stand to have any man say no to you—or put you in your place.”

My mother’s eyes glazed with
raging
fire. “
You’re walking a dangerous line here, young lady—”

“Is that what happened with Dad? With your marriage? Did you threaten him too
?
Is that why he walked out on—”

Before
I knew it, my mother was on her feet
,
and I felt a sharp sting on my cheek. I lifted my hand to my face and realized my mother had slapped me. I started to laugh. I don’t know why, but that seemed the only response I could muster from her action.

“I knew that visit to your uncle would fill your head with lies. Just what did he tell you?”

“
Oh, m
y uncle told me plenty. But he didn’t have to enlighten me about your failing marriage. I read Dad’s own words—in a letter he wrote
Uncle
Samuel before he died. How your marriage was a sham, how unbearable it was for him to endure you any longer.” I grew giddy with the power I conjured up with my secret knowledge. My mother had no clue about the letter—that was evident in her stricken expression. I boldly went on, although I knew I was
adeptly
sealing my fate. “I know all about the affair—”

My mother tried to put words together, but all she got out was, “
W
hat
.
 
.
 
.
affair
.
 
.
 
.?
” She backpedaled so hard I could almost see her legs pumping.
She spoke through clenched teeth.
“You’re making this all up.”

“I most certainly am not.” My tone changed into a syrupy cynicism. “I’d be glad to make you a copy of that letter. In fact, I think I should give everyone in the family a copy. It’s quite enlightening, you know. All about—”

My mother slapped her hand
s
on
the
frame
of her chair as she stood behind it. She fumbled as if
trying
to set up a
barricade
a
gainst me, against my barrage of words, but floundered in the attempt.
I toyed with telling her about Julie Hutchinson, my visit to Ed. Instead, I fed her more bait, knowing I was marching
foolh
ardi
ly
to
the gallows
. Yet, the satisfaction of seeing her like this was worth my demise. I would go down in a screaming blaze—a sight that would take
her
breath away.