The Pursuit of Happiness (2001) (72 page)

She broke off and reached for the Scotch bottle. Both our glasses were topped up.

‘I have to tell you,’ she said, ‘that Dorothy was amazing through most of this. Given that she really couldn’t stand my brother - that the whole marriage was a massive mistake, and she truly loathed everything about his life with you - she still stuck by him. Right to the end.’

‘He told me that she threw him out after he testified in Washington.’

‘Yes - she was pretty appalled at him for cooperating with the Committee … especially when she found out how it triggered your brother’s death. Worst yet, she couldn’t stomach seeing him so broken by the fact that he’d lost you. Not that I could blame her. But eventually - after a lot of talking from me - she let him come home. Because, deep down, I think she hated being on her own. Not that she would have anything to do with him in a “marital” way again - except for one drunken night, which is how Kate appeared on the scene.’

‘He did mention that.’

‘Well, what he probably didn’t mention was that his severance pay was all spent after six months. Then Kate arrived, then the leukemia was diagnosed - but by that time, his health insurance had run out. So the last year of his life was a complete financial disaster. He had a little stock - but he had to sell all that to pay his doctor’s bills. It really got bad for a while. So bad that I’ve been paying their rent for the last three months. And - between the Mass General Hospital tab and the funeral - Dorothy’s looking at about eight thousand dollars’ worth of debt … not to mention the little problem of now raising two kids on her own.’

I took another needed sip of whiskey.

‘I feel this is all my fault,’ I said.

‘That’s dumb - and you know it.’

‘But I should have written him that letter you wanted me to write.’

‘Yes - you should have done that. But would it have stopped him from falling apart again? Who the hell knows? He still blamed himself for Eric. And as for his illness … Sara, despite what some dimestore romantic novelists might like to think, a broken heart has never caused leukemia. Jack collided with his genetic fate. It’s as simple as that.’

‘But if I had forgiven him years ago …’

‘Now is it you who wants absolution?’

‘I was wrong.’

‘I’ll agree with that. But so was Jack. And yeah - for a while I really loathed you for not helping him when he needed you.’

‘Not now?’

She crushed out her cigarette, and instantly lit up another. ‘I’ve lost my brother, my only sibling. Just like you’ve lost yours. So hate’s rather pointless under the circumstances, isn’t it? Anyway, you meeting him a couple of weeks ago meant a lot to him.’

‘If only he’d told me exactly how sick he was.’

‘What good would that have done? Anyway, he was right not to tell you. Just as I also know that, in all those letters he wrote to you, he never once mentioned his breakdown, or getting fired. He had his dignity, Jack. More to the point, he felt he’d burdened you enough - and that he didn’t want to make you feel guilty. All he kept telling me - over and over again - was how much he missed you, and how sorry he was.’

‘I never read the letters.’

‘You could now.’

‘I threw them out.’

Meg shrugged.

‘He loved you, Sara. You should have seen his face whenever he talked about you. It was goddamn incandescent. I’d never seen anything like it. Didn’t understand it, to be honest - because I’d never felt that way about anyone. All right, he could be something of a fuck-up, my brother. He made some terrible calls. He didn’t know how to face up to big decisions. He had an awful habit of losing his nerve. And God, how he hated himself for failing you twice. And for failing Eric. Just as he also hated himself for failing Dorothy and the kids. But I also know that, at heart, he was just stumbling through like the rest of us. Trying his best. It may not have amounted to much. But,
at least,
he truly loved you. Without condition. And how often in life does that ever happen?’

I knew the answer to that question - but I didn’t articulate it. Because I just couldn’t.

‘Would you do something for me?’ I finally asked.

‘I doubt it. But, go on - try me.’

‘I want you to ask Dorothy to meet me.’

‘Forget it. I may not hate you anymore. She
does.
She always has. And now … now the lady’s got enough problems to handle without trying to forgive you. Which - I promise you - she never will.’

‘I don’t want her forgiveness. I just want to …’

‘I don’t care what you want to do. There is absolutely no way that my sister-in-law will ever agree to meet you.’

‘Hear me out,’ I said.

Meg did just that. And sat quietly for a moment or so after I finished talking with her.

‘All right,’ she said. ‘I’ll see what I can do.’

A few days later, she called me at home.

‘I’ve spoken with Dorothy. It took some work - but she’s agreed to see you. I didn’t explain much to her. In fact, I kept it all very vague - except to say that I thought it was important you met. Believe me, she was
very
reluctant. But I brought her around - telling her that you had a crucial matter you needed to discuss with her. Don’t expect this to be pleasant, Sara. She feels you’re responsible for many of her problems.’

‘She’s right. I am.’

‘There’s a coffee shop on the corner of Amsterdam and Eighty-Sixth. Can you make tomorrow at four? I’ve arranged to leave work early, so I can stay with Charlie and Kate while she meets you.’

I agreed. The next afternoon, I got to the coffee shop just before four. I found a booth at the back. I ordered tea, and found myself stirring it constantly as I waited for Dorothy to arrive. She showed up ten minutes late. She was dressed in a simple tweed skirt and a Peck and Peck blouse. She looked very tired - the dark moons under her eyes accentuated by the way her hair was pulled back in a tightly woven bun. She sat down opposite me. She did not exchange a greeting. She simply said, ‘You wanted to see me.’

‘Thanks for coming,’ I said, sounding deeply tense. ‘Coffee?’

She shook her head.

‘Anything else. Tea? Hot chocolate? A sandwich?’

‘Nothing. You wanted to see me. Here I am. I have about twenty minutes, no more.’

‘Isn’t Meg with the kids?’

‘Yes, but Charlie’s got tonsillitis - and we’re expecting the pediatrician to make a house call around four thirty. So this will have to be fast.’

‘Well …’ I said, clearing my throat, really not knowing how to broach the subject I was about to bring up. ‘Meg was telling me you were having some difficulties.’

‘My sister-in-law has a big mouth. My difficulties are my business, not yours.’

‘I wasn’t trying to pry or be nosy. It’s just … I would like to try to help.’

‘Help?’
she said with a hollow laugh. ‘You
help
me? No thanks.’

‘I can understand why you might feel …’

‘Don’t patronize me, Miss Smythe.’

‘I’m not patronizing you.’

‘Then don’t tell me how I feel. I
know
how I feel - which is angry. Angry that I didn’t have the courage, ten years ago, to tell Jack that we didn’t have to get married, just because I was pregnant. Angry that I stayed in a marriage when there was no love between us. And angry that I didn’t have the guts to end it when he first told me about you.’

‘I never pushed him to leave you.’

‘Oh, I was well aware of that. He told me that you refused to play the happy home-wrecker; that you were
oh-so-understanding
of his need to keep his family together - even though you
oh-so-adored
him.’

‘I did adore him.’

‘Congratulations. He was just as gooey about you. It was like living with a lovesick adolescent. I don’t know why the hell I put up with it.’

‘Why
did
you put up with it?’

‘Because there was a child. Because I was brought up to believe that you lived with your mistakes. Because I was also brought up to believe that respectability meant everything. And because I’m a stupid, weak woman who didn’t have the courage to realize that she
could
live without a husband. And then, of course, it turned out that my husband was a stupid, weak man who also ratted on others.’

‘He only did that because he was terrified of losing his job, and undermining his ability to support you and Charlie.’

‘Don’t tell me you’re defending him now? Especially after you emotionally crippled the fool by rejecting him. Anyway, the great dumb irony of the situation was that, by turning snitch, he lost everything: you, the job, me for a while …’

‘You took him back, though …’

‘More weakness on my part. Charlie missed him desperately. I decided that he needed his father.’

‘But you didn’t?’

Long silence.

‘Of course I needed him. I didn’t love him … but I still needed him. And then, after he got sick … it’s a strange thing, isn’t it, how we sometimes discover our real feelings about people a little too late. It was awful watching him go. Awful. And I was suddenly desperate to keep him. At any cost. That’s why he went to Boston - because I’d heard of this specialist at Mass General who was trying a new sort of treatment for leukemia. Jack didn’t want to go - mainly because he knew how much it was going to cost, and because we didn’t have the money. But I insisted. Because I so wanted him to live.’

‘Then you did love him.’

She shrugged. ‘Eventually. Yes. When he was finally free of you.’

I said nothing.

‘He never made contact with you after you came back to the city?’ she asked.

‘No.’

‘Are you telling me the truth?’

‘Yes, I am,’ I said, trying my best to look truthful.

‘I’m glad to hear that. Because I didn’t want him to see you again. Because you didn’t deserve …’

She broke off, and absently began to shred the paper napkin on the table.

‘How I hated you,’ she whispered. ‘And the reason I so hated you is because: you had his love.’

‘But then I threw it away.’

‘Yes, you did. And I’ll admit something rather ugly: I was so pleased when you did that. Because I thought: she will come to regret this. Which you have.’

She tossed away the shredded napkin. We fell silent again. I said, ‘I know that you now have financial problems.’

‘What concern is that of yours?’

‘I’d like to help you.’

‘No way.’

‘Please hear me out. When Eric died, there was an insurance policy from NBC which was worth forty-two thousand dollars. I had it invested. It’s now worth almost sixty-five thousand. What I’d like to propose is this: I give you eight thousand straight away to settle all the medical and funeral debts. Then I take the remaining fifty-seven thousand, and set up a trust for Kate and Charlie. The trust will generate an income which you can use for their school and eventually college, and anything else you think …’

She cut me off.

‘And what do you want out of this?’

‘Nothing.’

‘I don’t believe that.’

‘It’s the truth.’

‘You’re actually willing to give me and my children nearly sixty grand … with no strings attached?’

‘That’s right.’

‘Why?’

‘Because it’s the right thing to do.’

‘Or maybe because it’s a way for you to salve your conscience.’

‘Yes, maybe it is.’

She reached for another napkin, and began to shred it.

‘No strings?’ she asked.

‘None,’ I said.

‘I am not a charity case.’

‘This is a gift, not charity.’

‘And what will you live on when you’re old and no longer writing columns?’

‘I had quite a reasonable divorce settlement. It’s all invested. One day, it will turn into a very nice pension.’

The napkin came apart in her fingers.

‘You couldn’t have children, could you?’ she asked.

I met her gaze.

‘That’s right: I couldn’t have children. He told you that?’

‘Yes, he did - as a way of assuaging my fears that he’d start a second family with you, and then disappear. At the time, I was really
pleased
that you’d never have children. Isn’t that terrible? But that’s how much I hated you. In my mind, you threatened everything I had.’

‘Isn’t that always the basis of hate?’

‘I guess it is.’