Authors: Marissa Monteilh
“Mason, when was the last time the two of you spent an hour together without your son and wife?”
Mason thought back. “When we… that was… well, I took her
to school the other day. The day she started her period but at that time she asked for her mom.”
“So maybe that was an important moment but still it was a time when she needed her mother. It doesn’t mean you didn’t try.”
“Right. And I also drove my car home from San Diego and she rode with me. We followed her mom back in her car after they met me down there for a tournament but she wanted to ride back with me.”
“What did you talk about?”
“I think, oh my God, I was on my cell most of the time handling business and then I called Mercedes and we talked about my schedule while we drove.”
“Mason, you can still help Star develop a healthy sense of femininity and help her shape her view of the external world. You’re shaping her view of males in future relationships where she could have fear of abandonment and/or issues of sexual promiscuity. Some girls overcompensate by being top of their class, breaking all of the glass ceilings—all as a clever shield so that no one sees the despair. And then there’s an overcompensation of food, drugs, alcohol, sex, and work. I’m not saying this will happen but it can.”
Mercedes looked like she’d been putting the doctor’s words to good use. “She is a bit of an overachiever.”
“Other aspects are rage and depression. The rage can be a sign of a fierce desire to succeed. Depression and rage turned inward.”
Mason looked overwhelmed, “What are some signs that you’ve noticed?”
“Star, in my opinion, is angry. But mainly when it comes to talking about you. She is very bright and believes that she has you all figured. And you know what? She does. And that means she’s caught on long enough for you to be predictable. You need to be unpredictable. Surprising her with altered behavior can help jerk the energy in the right direction.”
Mason admitted, “It sounds like I really need to work on it.”
“Actually, the hardest part is getting someone to show a desire. You have that and you don’t seem to be in denial.”
“Denial won’t help my family,” Mason said, looking like he was suddenly growing tired of the conversation.
“Acknowledging that there is a problem leads to forgiveness so you can move on to the future. Apologize, Mason. Just say I’m sorry and I want to do better. Ask for a chance and see what happens.”
The word forgiveness motivated Mason to glance Mercedes’s way, but she turned her head to look out of the window.
As reluctant as Mason was feeling about the doctor’s new-age remedies for dysfunction, Mason went to Sav-On in the Ladera Center to buy a card for Star. “It couldn’t hurt,” a voice inside of him said to the wind as he stepped out of his car.
“What up, Mr. Wilson,” a stranger asked as he entered the store.
“Not much,” Mason replied without looking in their direction.
He was looking for a basic “Just because” card that would say what he felt about his daughter. He searched and searched through all of the humorous ones, the ones with a million words, the ones that were Afro-centric. And he decided on one that said it all. It brought a smile to his face upon reading the words.
In some ways it may seem like you’ve never had a father
—
but you do. You are loved. Forgive me.
That evening after dinner, Mason entered Star’s dimly lit room. He handed her the card while she sat on her bed, writing in her purple journal. Her left leg, bandaged at the knee, was stretched out on the bed as she kept it elevated. He bent down to turn on the dainty Tiffany lamp next to her bed so she could see better.
“Thanks,” she replied as the extra light kicked in. “Is this for me?” she asked, looking up at him. She flipped the envelope from front to back. Her heartbeat sped up.
“Yes. It’s just a little something.”
“Thanks,” she said, tucking it in between the pages of her notepad, almost appearing shy.
He looked surprised that she did not open it in front of him. But he did not push it. Instead, he bent down and braced his body so that he could sit on the floor.
Mason was eye level with her leg. “How’s your knee?”
“It’s fine. It’s just a little swollen still but the bruising isn’t bad. I’ll be good to go in about a week.”
“That’s great.” They were silent for a few long seconds. “Star, what do you think a father is?”
She kind of smirked at the sight of him sitting so casually. And she raised her eyebrows as though she wanted her brain to kick into reply mode. She calmed herself. Excited by his question. She took a deep breath, and then responded, “A father is someone who plays with a kid. Dads talk for a minute and then Mom goes on and on. Dads teach girls how to relate to boys and that we are love worthy. Dads are protectors from strangers and violence. A dad is a provider, a role model, and a disciplinarian.” She surprised herself. All that she had read about just spewed out of her mouth as though she were a guest therapist on a talk show.
Mason looked impressed. “Wow, I didn’t expect you to come up with that so quickly.”
Star bent down and took the book called,
Whatever Happened to Daddy’s Little Girl
—
The Impact of Fatherlessness in Black Women
, from next to her nightstand. “I’ve almost memorized this stuff.” She reached over and handed it to her father. “I suppose I could recite it in my sleep.”
He turned it over and looked at the back cover. “I suppose so. Where did you get this?”
“I bought it after I saw it discussed on a talk show last month.”
“I had no idea.”
“Daddy, some of the things that book covers are you—in different ways. As a provider role model, you are a ten. But I’ve tried to think back to us playing and talking and you teaching me, and it’s hard to remember. I know you started playing amateur golf before Rashaad was born and you went pro when I was little. I was born just when you really got going. But I also know you haven’t been on tour every day of every month for all those years, have you?”
“You know what, Star? I really can’t recall going two days straight without something to do. I’m sorry.”
“Daddy, it wouldn’t be fair to you to say that you abandoned us. My friend Asia doesn’t understand what I’m feeling. Her dad left
years ago and she hasn’t seen him at all. She says at least you’ve been in the house and we’ve been together as a family. And one thing I’ve always known you as is a disciplinarian. I just know Rashaad and I never wanted to deal with you whenever we did something wrong. Because Mom would threaten us with telling you every little detail.”
“I guess spankings don’t equate to quality time, huh?”
She continued, sounding like a therapist again. “No, but showing us how a man provides and spoils his family is. And even with all the time that’s gone by with your career, I still want a man like you, Daddy. I just don’t want you to think that a few bucks replaces a few minutes of your time.”
Mason now looked stunned. “Who’s the adult here, huh?”
“I’ve just had more time to figure this out than you.”
“How about if we go…” he thought twice about letting her make the choice. “Well, where do you want to go? Just you and me, no one else around. We’ll have the whole day to ourselves.”
Her head rambled with ideas at the drop of his suggestion. “Well, I’d like to go to the Botanical Gardens in Malibu and walk around, and then have lunch on Pacific Coast Highway and maybe walk on the beach, once my knee heals that is. And then go to a music store so I can buy some new music sheets. And how about getting pedicures together?”
“Pedicures?”
“Yes, Daddy, pedicures. That would be a blast.” She seemed excited.
Mason laughed at the thought. “With my golfer feet?”
Star managed a grin. “Daddy, come on.”
“No problem.”
“So, it’s a date?”
He stood up. “It’s a date.” He left the book on the floor.
“You can take that if you want.”
“Yes, ma’am, I will,” he said, leaning over to pick it up. “See you in the morning. Good night, pud, ahh, babe.” He caught himself.
“You can call me puddin’. Just only when it’s the two of us,” she assured him.
“Okay, only when it’s the two of us.”
“Okay.”
She glanced down to open the card and read his message. Warmth owned her face. “Daddy?”
“Yes, puddin’?”
“I forgive you.”
“Thanks,” he said with a wink and a big smile.
She resumed her writing.
“And Star?”
“Yes, Daddy.”
“Don’t drive my Porsche anymore.”
“I won’t.”
The next morning, while driving Star to school, a still half-asleep Mercedes asked if Star wanted to skip school and go to the office with her just like she used to do a few years ago. She wanted to see if Star’s designer dream was real or just temporary. Star declined, seeming more interested in going inside to talk to her counselor than anything else.
In slow motion, Mercedes went back home to get dressed and then proceeded on to her office, strolling in late in the day. She made a slow path past Vicky with a brief hello, as though she was preoccupied.
“Those flowers in there are for you,” Vicky said.
“Thanks.” Mercedes did not react to the bouquet, but instead she logged onto her computer to check out her phone list and e-mails. She had one from Sequoia with an attached article called, “Sexual Fantasies.” Sequoia wrote:
See, it depends on what you do with them. Fantasies live in the realm of our thoughts. If it increases your desire for your partner and increases arousal, it is trouble-free. Your sexual thoughts tell you what is erotic, Mercedes, not that you are some dangerous person. Relax, woman. Escape, and do what you can to cop that fucking orgasm. And don’t throw away your relationship. Just a bit of advice from your girl. Love, Sequoia.
Mercedes managed to smile at the screen and then buzzed her assistant on the intercom.
“Vicky, will you make sure I’m not interrupted. I have homework tonight and I need about an hour or so.”
“No problem. Are you in school?”
“You could say that.”
“Oh. By the way, you had two calls from a Mr. Green,” Vicky said.
Since she said
mister
, Mercedes wanted to make it clear to Vicky who he was. “Oh, my mother-in-law’s doctor. Did he leave his number?”
“It’s on your call sheet.”
“Okay, thanks.”
“Dr. Green, it’s Mercedes Wilson returning your call.”
“How are you, Mrs. Wilson?”
“Just fine. Is everything okay with Mattie?”
“Yes. I just wanted to check in with you and see if she’s made a decision regarding new meds. I didn’t get a chance to ask you at the party.”
Mercedes scrolled along, pecking at her keyboard as she spoke. “We’re leaning toward passing on it. She’s not going for it. It seems like she really does understand that it’s a trial medication. She actually said she doesn’t want to be a guinea pig.”
“It is a trial med but it has been proven to cease the progression of this disease, too.”
“Not reverse it or repair the damage?”
“No.”
“Wow, I’ll have to talk to Mason and Claude. But I really think it’s not going to work for us.”
“Okay. Just let me know if things change. But after awhile if she progresses too far along, she’ll no longer be a candidate. I just want to make sure you know that.”
“I appreciate that. I understand. Thanks for calling, Dr. Green.”
“Wallace,” he corrected her, inspiring her to be more casual.
“Wallace.”
“So, Mrs. Wilson, tell me. Do you ever get a chance to get away and have lunch during the day?”
She stopped her typing and gave him her full attention. “Lunch?”
“Yes, I just thought we could get together soon and talk before it gets too late for Mattie to take the medicine.”
“Why?”
“I know how it can be on the caregiving side. I was a caregiver to my dad, who died a few years ago. I wanted to give you a break from it.”
“I’ve had a break. My brother-in-law has her now so we’re all sharing the weight. I’m fine but thanks for asking.”
“Are you sure?”
Mercedes paused before replying, swiveling her chair toward the high-rise view. She thought about her threats to Mason. And then she spoke. “Well, I’m sure there wouldn’t be anything wrong with just one meal together.”
He spoke with optimism. “Me neither. It might be just what you need.”
She stood up and walked toward the glass sofa table. The arrangement of three dozen red roses stared back at her. She took the notecard and read it.
Through the years, you’ve never let me down. I’m sorry that I did. I love you.
She tucked the card back in place and continued her conversation. “But, Dr. Green, I’m very sure there’s no need for us to get together. I assure you.”
“Just a friendly offer.”
She took slow-paced steps back to her desk chair and sat down. “And I appreciate it. But don’t forget, I’m a married woman and if we were to share a meal on a personal level, my husband would be there as well.”
“Is that so?”
“Yes, it is. I have no problem with being friends. But, my friends are his friends.”
His swallow could be heard. “I get it. I’ll check on both of you soon, or my assistant will call to schedule a follow-up once the other lab results come back. It was nice talking to you.”
“You, too. Thanks so much. I see Mattie is in good hands.”
“The good hands doctor, that’s me,” he joked.
“I’ll bet. Have a good day.”
“And thanks for the lovely time at your home. You looked amazing.”
Mercedes sat straight up in her chair. “Thanks,” she said as she ended the call, enjoying the flattery but disconnecting while she still had strength. She gazed back at the roses. Still, she looked un-fazed.
Vicky buzzed in over the intercom. “Mrs. Wilson, I know you asked not to be interrupted, but Colette is in the outer office. She is very upset and she refuses to leave.”
“Let her in please. Thanks, Vicky.” Mercedes exhaled with force.
Colette looked stressed, and she talked a mile a minute. “Mercedes, please tell me. Is Torino seeing Sequoia?”