Kiss Mommy Goodbye (19 page)

The song took off. Donna’s hands danced along the countertop.

And then the man suddenly reappeared.

Rubbing. Rubbing. Cleaning. Till it shines. I will make
you shine.

He was back to re-stake his claim, to reclaim his territory.

The music building. And building. Clean, Donna, clean!

But the woman was telling him no. She was telling him to get out.

Donna stopped abruptly.

She was telling her former lover to leave, telling him he was no longer welcome.

Donna stared at the small transistor. Then her eyes moved to the kitchen door.

What was she thinking?

Donna’s hand dropped the handi-wipe to the floor.

Could she do it? she wondered. Could she really leave?

She moved to the phone. Victor always kept the keys to his car in a dish under the phone.

It had been so long since she’d felt in control, so long since she felt she could breathe on her own. What made her think she could survive without him?

“And I’ll survive. I will survive—”

She picked them up and walked out of the kitchen toward the front door.

“Hey-hey—”

Donna felt the cool night air hit her body and realized all she had on was a thin nightgown. It didn’t matter. She was just going out to start the car. She’d come back inside and throw something on after she got the kids. But first she had to start the car. Something she hadn’t done since—

She wouldn’t think about it. She would simply get into the car and drive. She had always been a good driver. Before Victor—She stopped. Had she ever done anything on her
own before she met Victor?

She opened the car door and got behind the wheel. The image of Victor was right beside her. “Watch that trash can,” it said.

“I will not listen to you,” she said aloud, putting the key in the ignition. “You are not here.” The radio blasted into the small space. She had forgotten that Victor never turned it off. It was always there as soon as the ignition was started.

The radio was tuned to the same station as her small transistor. Gloria Gaynor had only just started the second verse. It was as if she was singing directly to her. And she was telling Donna to stay strong, not to fall apart. That’s good, Donna thought, keep telling me. Keep telling me.

I will not fall apart. I will put this car into reverse and back out onto the street. Then I will go inside and get my children.

She was through feeling sorry for herself, through crying herself to sleep night after night. She was through with tears. It was time to do as the song advised, time to hold her head up high.

Donna felt her head raise. She tried to put the car into reverse. Her hand wouldn’t move. She could actually feel Victor’s invisible hand on top of hers.

“Do you know where you’re going, Donna? You passed the street three blocks ago.”

Get out of my car, Victor. You are not here.

“You’re straddling the white line.”

I am not.

She wouldn’t listen to Victor. She was no longer some silly little girl still clinging to a romantic ideal that had never really existed.

“You almost missed that stop sign.”

I didn’t.

It was time to leave. It was time to get the hell away.

“For Christ’s sake, Donna, are you trying to kill us!”

I didn’t mean to, I didn’t see it—

She wouldn’t let Victor break her resolve as easily as he’d already broken her spirit.

“Just shut up for a change, Donna.”

Don’t do that! Don’t do that! Get off me. Do you hear me? Get off me. I will not be violated. I will not be violated this way!

“Are you trying to kill us?”

Bad little girl. Bad, bad little girl.

“Just shut up for a change, Donna.”

You must be taught a lesson. You must be taught a lesson.

She’d already taken the first step. She’d walked out her front door.

Donna felt her hand begin to shake. Then her whole body.

She wouldn’t crumble. She wouldn’t just lay down and die.

But Donna couldn’t stop the shaking.

Try as she might she couldn’t stop the shaking.

She couldn’t survive.

Donna reached up and turned off the ignition, then she lowered her head to the steering wheel and cried.

How could she survive? she wondered ruefully. She’d forgotten she was already dead.

“M
y God, what happened to you?”

“You don’t like it either, huh?”

Dr. Mel Segal stood up behind his large wood desk and walked around to where Donna was standing.

“Victor calls it my early-Auschwitz period.”

Mel smiled. “The man always had a way with words.”

“But you don’t like it either?”

Mel took a long pause. “I’m not crazy about it, no.”

Donna let out a sharp exhalation of air. “I did it myself,” she said, running her hand through what remained of her hair. “Last night.”

“What brought that on?”

“Victor said I was starting to look more like my old self again. I would have shaved it right off but I didn’t have the guts.”

“You came close.”

“Victor says I look like a starving Peter Pan.”

“Leave it to Victor.”

“Are you going to tell me to leave him?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“I told you that the first time you walked in here. You’re an adult—I figure I only have to tell you something once. The rest is up to you.”

“Ah, come on,” she teased. “Tell me to leave him.”

His face was suddenly very serious. “I can’t.”

Donna turned toward the door. “Nuts,” she said. “Why do I always have to get involved with men of integrity?”

“Involved?”

Donna turned back to face Mel. She was caught off guard by the choice of her words. “Well, you know what I mean.”

He said he did, but she could see he didn’t. For that matter, neither did she.

“It was really nice of you to see me without an appointment.”

“Since when have you needed an appointment?”

“You have a waiting room full of people.”

“Why did you come?”

“I’m not sure.”

“The kids okay?”

“Fine.”

“You?”

“Fine. I feel—fine. Actually, I feel about as good as I look.” She laughed. “You think they have a bed at the nearest hospital I could use?”

“You don’t look that bad.”

“I do.”

“Personally, I’ve always thought Peter Pan was kind of cute.”

Donna smiled and walked toward him. “He’s always spoken very highly of you, too,” she said, her hand reaching up to touch Mel’s face, feeling his beard brush against her hand.

“How’s Annie?” she asked, withdrawing her hand.

“Great. She’s very heavily into masturbation at the moment.”

They laughed.

“What do you do about it?” Donna asked.

“Do? Nothing. Let the kid enjoy herself.”

Donna and Mel stood staring at each other for several long seconds without saying a word. Then Donna heard a voice break the silence.

“I better go,” the voice said quietly.

“Okay,” Mel answered, even more softly.

“I want you to kiss me so badly I can’t stand it,” the voice continued. “Oh, my God,” Donna said aloud and turned quickly and walked out of the room.

He was right behind her. She heard him make hurried excuses to his visiting patients—he’d be back in a minute, a sudden emergency—and seconds later she heard his footsteps behind her on the stairs. When she reached the bottom, he was right at her heels.

“My car’s in the lot,” he said, taking her elbow and moving her toward it. She recognized the little white MG. “Goddamn, it’s locked,” he said, fidgeting in his pocket for the keys. “Here they are.” After a few fumbles, he found the right key and opened both doors. Donna climbed in the passenger side and Mel got behind the wheel. They closed the doors.

“Where are we going?” she asked.

“Nowhere,” he answered, his arms immediately wrapping
themselves around her, his lips sealing themselves across her own. Donna had never kissed a man with a beard before. She liked it. She liked everything about him.

“This is incredibly unprofessional,” he said, moving his lips from her mouth to her eyes.

“I couldn’t ask for better treatment.”

Their lips moved back to their previous positions. They remained huddled that way for several minutes, kissing frantically, grabbing at each other, touching each other’s cheeks, finally pulling apart and staring into each other’s newly awakened eyes. He moved his right hand up to her head and rubbed it across her cropped hair.

“How can you kiss a woman with a crew-cut?” she asked.

“Watch,” he said. And did.

“I can understand why I’m attracted to you. But I’ll never understand what you find attractive about me.”

“I like your eyes,” he said gently. “Your nose, your lips.” He kissed each in turn. “Your ears.” They laughed, as he kissed each one. “Your neck.” He leaned forward.

“Careful, I don’t think there’s room in this car for you to like any more of me.”

“Where are the kids?”

“Adam’s at nursery. Sharon is with Mrs. Adilman.”

“Can you wait while I finish upstairs?”

“Yes.”

He leaned toward her again. “I have wanted to kiss you,” he said, “since I first saw you at Susan’s party, looking like a pregnant walking stick.”

She laughed. “Ah, yes. My Biafran refugee period. One of my favorites.” She looked at him seriously. “What will you think, I wonder, if you ever meet the real me?”

“Well, let me see,” he said, drawing an invisible line down her cheek with his finger. “I’ve liked you pregnant, I’ve liked you streaked, frosted and blonde. I’ve liked you skinny and teary-eyed. I’ve even liked you skinny and smiling. Not to mention I like you as a redhead, a carrot and a raven. I even like your natural shade, what’s left of it. Somehow, I suspect I’ll like you when you’re old and gray, if I’m lucky enough to still be around you by that time.”

“I’m the lucky one,” she said, tears filling her eyes.

He promptly kissed them away, and then brought his lips back to her own. “My God,” she said suddenly, pulling away. “Who the hell is that?”

Mel quickly opened the door of his car. Donna looked over, half expecting to see Victor, but instead found herself staring at a tall, blond, almost careless-looking man who had been leaning against the car window, peering in at them.

“Sorry,” the man said, moving backward, his eyes on Donna. “I was just admiring the car. I didn’t realize anybody was in it.”

Donna opened her door and got out as Mel did the same on his side. Mel waited as Donna walked around the car and then took her arm. Donna noticed the blond man’s eyes were still on her as she and Mel were walking away. When she turned around again as they were about to go back inside the clinic door, she saw that he was still staring.

Their lovemaking was a disaster. Perhaps because they were so nervous. Perhaps because they were so eager to be good for each other. Whatever the reasons, they simply failed to connect, their perspiration more the sweat of effort than of passion. Though they brought in all the latest techniques,
everything they did seemed forced, as if they still had one eye to the textbook. There was much grunting, much motion and very little joy.

He found it difficult to achieve an erection, and once achieved, impossible to maintain. She was too dry, too sore, too scared. Both were anxious. They fumbled with each other’s bodies as if they were opposing players on a football team, and finally let the ball drop.

“I’m sorry. I’m so dry,” she said, trying not to cry. “It’s just that I haven’t made love in almost a year and a half. And since Sharon was born, I guess it’s still kind of sore in there. From lack of use.”

“I feel like a spastic kid,” he said. “You know, like the first time you do it and you’re worried sick that you’re not gonna find the right place.” He looked down at his limp penis. “Not that I’d have anything to put in it at the moment.”

Suddenly they were both laughing. “God, we were awful,” she said.

“The pits,” he agreed.

Their laughter grew and reverberated throughout his home.

“Do you think we’ll improve?” she asked.

“Can’t get any worse.”

“When does Annie get home?”

Mel looked over at the clock which sat on the end table by his bed. “In an hour. She has ballet after school today.”

“Think we can get it right by then?”

“I’d sure like to give it a try.”

Donna looked into his lap. “I think the general shape of things is improving,” she said, feeling very wicked to be
saying such things (Victor had never liked it when she tried to put a rating on their sex together, nor had he approved of this kind of dialogue), feeling very wicked to being here at all. At the same time, she realized, she was feeling something else as well. Donna smiled up at Mel, whose body was moving over her own. As the familiar stirrings began filtering through all the right places, Donna was feeling that there just might be some hope left for her after all.

She was packed, and waiting for Victor on the sofa when he finally got home. He looked around the living room, saw her suitcases, and walked over to the bar to fix himself a drink.

“You want one?” he asked.

“No, thank you.”

He poured himself a tall glass of scotch and walked back to where Donna was sitting. “I take it this is some sort of goodbye scene,” he said.

Donna’s voice was quiet. “I’m leaving you.”

“I kind of thought that’s what you were going to say.” He took a long swallow of his drink. “The children?”

“They’re with Susan.”

“Susan?” He shook his head. “I should have known she’d be behind this.”

“Susan had nothing to do with this. I called her this afternoon when she got home from work and asked her to look after the kids for a few hours till I spoke to you.” She paused. “She was very surprised.”

“But delighted, I’m sure.”

“I don’t want to argue about Susan, Victor.”

“I don’t want to argue at all.”

“Good.” Donna stood up. “I’ll call a taxi.”

“I’ll drive you.”

“No.”

He put his drink down on the glass coffee table. “You won’t let me do anything for you?”