Daddy Page 6
“What difference does it make?” He glanced behind them at Benjamin and Melissa getting out of the other car, and then back at his wife, the wife he was about to lose, who was leaving them to go back to school, and might never come back, no matter what she said. He knew that nothing would ever be the same again. They both did. “What are you going to tell them?”
The kids waited for them to get out, watching them, and chatting in the cold night air, as Sarah glanced at them, with a stone in her heart. “I don't know yet. Let's get through the holiday first.” Oliver nodded, and opened the door, wiping the tears from his cheeks hurriedly so his children wouldn't see them.
“Hi, Dad. How was dinner?” Benjamin appeared to be in high spirits, and Melissa, all legs and long blond hair, was smiling. She still had her stage makeup on. It had been a dress rehearsal for the play, and she'd loved it.
“It was fun,” Sarah answered quickly for him, smiling brightly. “It's a cute place.” Oliver glanced at her, wondering how she could do it, how she could talk to them at all, how she could pretend, how she could face them. Maybe there were things about her he didn't know, had never known, and maybe didn't want to.
He walked into the house, said good night to the kids, and walked slowly upstairs, feeling old and tired, and disillusioned, and he watched her as she quietly closed their bedroom door and faced him. “I'm sorry, Ollie … I really am.”
“So am I.” He still didn't believe it. Maybe she'd change her mind. Maybe it was change of life. Or a brain tumor. Or a sign of a major depression. Maybe she was crazy, maybe she always had been. But he didn't care what she was. She was his wife and he loved her. He wanted her to stay, to take back the things she had said, to tell him she couldn't leave him for anything … him … not just the children … him … but as she stood watching him with somber eyes, he knew she wouldn't do it. She meant what she had said. She was going back to Harvard. She was leaving them. And as the realization cut through to his heart like a knife, he wondered what he would do without her. He wanted to cry just thinking about it, he wanted to die as he lay in bed that night, next to her, feeling her warmth beside him. But it was as though she was already gone. He lay next to her, aching for her, longing for the years that had flown past, and wanting her more than he ever had, but he rolled slowly on his side, away from her so she wouldn't see him cry, and never touched her.
Chapter 3
The days before Christmas seemed to crawl past, and Oliver almost hated to come home now. He alternated between hating her and loving her more than he ever had before, and trying to think of ways to change her mind. But the decision had been made now. They talked about it constantly, late at night, when the children were in bed, and he saw a brutal stubbornness in Sarah that he had thought she had given up years before. But in her mind, she was fighting for her life now.
She promised that nothing would change, that she would come home every Friday night, that she loved him as she had before, yet they both knew she was kidding herself. She would have papers to write, exams to study for, there was no way she could commute, and coming home to bury herself in her books would only frustrate him and the children. Things had to change when she went back to school. It was inevitable, whether she wanted to face it or not. He tried to convince her to go to a different school, somewhere closer to home, even Columbia would be better than going all the way back to Harvard. But she was determined to go back there. He wondered at times if it was to recapture her youth, to turn the clock back to a simpler time, and yet he liked their life so much better now. And he could never understand how she would be able to leave the children.
They still knew nothing of their mother's plans. The older ones sensed a certain tension in the air, and Melissa asked her more than once if she and Dad had had a fight, but Sarah just brushed them off with a carefree air. She was determined not to spoil Christmas for them, and she knew her announcement was going to upset them. She had decided to tell them the day after Christmas and Ollie agreed because he thought he could still change her mind. They went to Melissa's play and then decorated the Christmas tree in what seemed like perfect harmony, singing carols, making jokes, while Oliver and Benjamin struggled with the lights, and Sam ate the popcorn faster than Melissa and Sarah could string it. Watching them, Oliver felt as though his heart would break. She couldn't do this to them, it wasn't fair, and how was he going to take care of them? And no matter how dear she was, Agnes was only hired help after all. And he worked in New York all day long. He had visions of Benjamin and Melissa running wild and Sam going into a decline, while their mother played graduate student at Harvard.
It was Christmas Eve before he sat down alone with her, in front of a roaring fire in the library, and faced her soberly and asked her not to go through with her plans. He had already decided that if he had to, he was going to beg her.
“You just can't do this to them.” He had lost ten pounds in two weeks, and the strain in the air was killing both of them, but Sarah was adamant. She had written to accept the week before, and she was leaving in two weeks to find a place to stay in Boston. Her classes started on the fifteenth of January. All that remained was to get through Christmas, pack her things, and tell the children.
“Ollie, let's not go through this again.”
He wanted to jump up and shake her. But she was withdrawn from him, as though she couldn't bear facing the pain she knew she had caused him.
The children had hung their stockings near the tree, and late that night, he and Sarah brought the presents down. She and Agnes had been wrapping them for weeks. She had gone all out this year, almost as though it were their final Christmas. Ollie had bought her an emerald ring at Van Cleef the week before, it was beautiful and something he knew she had always wanted. It was a plain band set with small diamond baguettes, and in the center a beautifully cut square emerald. He wanted to give it to her that night, but suddenly it seemed more like a bribe than a gift, and he was sorry he had bought it.
When they went to bed that night, Sarah set the alarm for six. She wanted to get up early to stuff the turkey. Agnes would be up early to do most of the work anyway, but Sarah wanted to do the turkey her- self, another final gift to them, and it was a family tradition.
She lay in bed, after they turned out the lights, thinking quietly, and listening to Ollie breathe. She knew he was awake, and could imagine only too easily what he was thinking. He had been beside himself for the past two weeks. They had argued, cried, talked, discussed, and still she knew she was doing the right thing, for herself anyway. Now all she wanted was to get it over with, to start her new life, and get away from them, and the pain she knew she was causing Ollie.
“I wish you'd stop acting as though I were leaving here for good.” Her voice was gentle in the darkness.
“You are though, aren't you?” His voice sounded so sad, she couldn't bear to hear it.
“I told you. I'll come home every weekend I can, and there are plenty of vacations.”
“And how long do you think that will last? You can't commute and go to school. I just don't understand how you can do this.” He had said that a thousand times in the last two weeks, and silently he kept searching for another reason, for something he had done, or failed to do, it had to be that. She couldn't just want an entirely different life, away from them, if she really loved him.
“Maybe after it's all over it'll make more sense to you. Maybe if I make something of myself as a result of this, then you'll respect what I've done. If that happens, then it'll be worth it.”
“I respect you now. I always have.” He turned to look at her in the moonlight. She looked as lovely as she always had to him, maybe more so now with the pain of losing her a constant reminder of how much he loved her. And then, already aching for them, for what they didn't know and he did, “When exactly are you going to tell the children?”
“I thought tomorrow night, after your parents go home.”
“It's a hell of a way to wind up Christmas.”
“And how do you think they're going to feel after they hear the news?”
“Like we do, probably. Scared, confused, maybe excited for me. I think Benjamin and Mel will be able to understand. I'm worried about Sam, though.” She spoke softly and turned to look at Ollie, reaching quietly for his hand, and her voice trembled when she spoke again, thinking of their last baby. “Take good care of him, Ollie … he needs you more than he needs me. …”
“He needs you too. I only see him a couple of hours a day and all we talk about is football, baseball, and homework.”
“That's a start. Maybe you'll all be closer after this.”
“I thought we were.” That was the part that hurt most. He had thought they had everything. The perfect family. The perfect life. The perfect marriage. “I always thought everything was so just right between us … I never understood how you felt about all this … I mean … well, I did when you got pregnant, but I always thought that after that, and even before Sam, you were happy.” It hurt him so much to think that he hadn't given her everything she wanted.
“I was … I have been … I just wanted something you couldn't give me. It has to come from within, and I guess I never found it.” She felt so guilty for making him feel inadequate. He had always been the perfect husband.
“And if you don't find it now?”
“I give up, I guess.” But she knew she would. She already had in part. Just making the decision to go had changed her.
“I think you could find it right here. Maybe all you needed was more freedom.”
She moved closer to him in their comfortable bed, and he put an arm around her. “I had all the freedom I needed. I just didn't know what to do with it.”
“Oh baby …” He buried his face in her hair, and his eyes filled with tears again, but as she laid her face against his chest, he could feel her tears and her shoulders tremble. “Why are we doing this? Can't we just turn the clock back a few weeks and forget this ever happened?”
Even through her tears she shook her head and then looked up at him. “I don't think so. I would always feel I'd missed something. I'll come back … I promise … I swear. I love you too much not to.” But something in his heart told him it just wouldn't happen no matter what she said. It was safer to keep her at home, to never let her go. Once gone, anything could happen.
They lay for a long time, holding each other tight, their faces side by side, their lips meeting from time to time, and at last his hunger for her got the best of him.
For the first time in two weeks, he took her with a passion and a longing that had been long since forgotten. There was a desperation to their lovemaking that had never been there before, a thirst, a loneliness, an insatiable hunger. And she felt it, too, along with guilt, regret, and a sorrow that almost overwhelmed her as they shuddered in unison and lay side by side kissing afterward, until finally he slept in her arms … Oliver … the boy she had loved long since … the man he had become … the love that had begun and now might end at Harvard.
Chapter 4
Christmas morning was a frantic rush. The table, the turkey, the presents, the phone calls from Chicago, and three calls from the Watsons. George called to say that Phyllis wasn't quite herself, and Oliver brushed it off as his father getting too wound up again over nothing. They were expected at noon, and arrived at almost two o'clock, with armloads of gifts for everyone, including a cashmere shawl for Agnes, and a huge soup bone for Andy. And contrary to George's warnings, Phyllis seemed remarkably well and looked lovely in a new purple wool dress she'd bought the day she'd gone shopping for hours and hours and worried her husband.
They opened presents for what seemed like ages, and Sarah was stunned by the emerald ring Ollie had given her early that morning when he sat at the kitchen table, at the crack of dawn, watching her stuff the turkey. She had given him a sheepskin coat, some tapes she knew he wanted, some ties and socks, and silly things, and a beautiful new black leather briefcase. And as a joke, he'd given her a funny little red “school bag,” to remind her that she was just “a kid to him,” and a gold compass to find her way home, inscribed with the words Come Home Soon. I Love You. Ollie.
“What's that for, Dad?” Sam had inquired, noticing the gift when Sarah opened it. “You and Mom going camping? That's a pretty fancy compass.”
“Your mom's a pretty fancy woman. I just thought it might be useful if she got lost sometime.” He smiled, and Sam laughed, and Sarah gently reached out to touch Ollie. She kissed him tenderly, and afterward he followed her out to the kitchen to help carve the turkey.
The meal itself was an uneventful one, except that halfway through, Grandma Phyllis started to get nervous. She seemed to jump out of her seat every chance she got, helping to carry plates that didn't need to go anywhere, bringing things in from the kitchen that didn't belong, and asking everyone ten times if they were ready for another helping.
“What's the matter with Grandma?” Sam whispered to his father at one point, when Phyllis had scurried after Agnes, insisting that she was going to help her. “She never used to like to help in the kitchen that much.” Oliver had noticed it too, but imagined that she was just ill at ease about something. She seemed unusually agitated.
“I think she just wants to help your mom and Agnes.
Old people get like that sometimes. They want everyone to know that they're still useful.”
“Oh.” Sam nodded, satisfied, but the others had noticed it too. And Mel looked worried as she glanced at her mother. Sarah only shook her head, not wanting the questions to form in words. It was suddenly obvious to her that her mother-in-law had some kind of a problem.
But the meal went smoothly other than that. And everyone ate too many helpings of everything, and then collapsed in the living room, while Sarah, Agnes, and Phyllis tidied up the kitchen. Melissa joined them for a while, but then came to sit with the men and her two brothers.
She looked worriedly at Grandpa George, and sat down next to him when she returned. “What's the matter with Grandma? She seems so nervous.”
“She gets like that sometimes, agitated. It's difficult to calm her down, sometimes it's just better to let her wear herself out as long as she's not doing any harm. Is she okay out there?”
“I think so. She's running around the kitchen like a whirlwind.” But the truth was she wasn't really doing anything, just talking incessantly and moving dirty plates from here to there and back again without getting anything accomplished. Sarah and Agnes had noticed it, too, but no one had said anything, and eventually they had told Mel to go on into the other room. And with that, her grandmother had looked up, at the sound of her name, looking straight at her only female grandchild.
“Mel? Is she here? Oh I'd love to see her, where is she?” Melissa had been stunned into silence and her mother had motioned her to go into the other room, but she was still shaken when she sat down next to her grandfather, and asked for an explanation.
“She's so confused. I've never seen her like that before.”
“It's been happening to her more and more often.” George Watson looked sadly at his son. It was exactly what he had been trying to explain to Ollie. Yet sometimes she was right as rain, and he wondered if he himself was imagining her confusion. It was hard to know what to think. One day she seemed totally out of control, and the next she seemed fine again, and sometimes she changed from hour to hour. It was both frightening and confusing. “I don't know what it is, Mel. I wish I did. Old age, I suppose, but she seems too young for that.” Phyllis Watson was only sixty-nine years old, and her husband was three years older.
And a few minutes later, Phyllis and Sarah walked back into the room, and the older woman seemed much calmer. She sat down quietly in a chair, and chatted with Benjamin, wh
o was telling her about applying to Harvard. He was applying to Princeton, too, Stanford on the West Coast, Brown, Duke, and Georgetown. With his grades and athletic skill, he had a host of great schools to choose from. But he still hoped that he would get into Harvard, and now so did Sarah. It would be exciting to be in school with him. Maybe if that happened, he would forgive her for leaving home eight months before he left for college. Ollie had even suggested that she wait until Benjamin left for school, but she didn't want to postpone anything. She had waited too many years for this to be willing to wait another hour. It was the kind of reaction Phyllis had foretold years before, but now she might not even remember or understand that.
“How soon will you hear from all those schools?” George Watson was excited for his grandson.
“Probably not until late April.”
“That's a long time to wait, for a boy your age.”
“Yes, it is.” Benjamin smiled and looked at his father lovingly. “Dad and I are going to tour the schools this spring while I wait. I know most of them, but I've never been to Duke, or Stanford.”
“That's much too far away. I still think you should go to Princeton.” George's old school, and everyone smiled. George always thought that everyone should go to Princeton.
“I might, if I don't get into Harvard. Maybe you'll get Mel to go there one day.” She groaned and threw a half-eaten cookie at him.
“You know I want to go to UCLA and study drama.”
“Yeah, if you don't get married first.” He usually said “knocked up,” but he wouldn't have dared in front of his parents. She was having a hot romance with a boy in his class, and although he didn't think she had gone “all the way” yet, he suspected that things were getting closer. But she had also recently become aware of his new romance, with a good-looking blond girl with a sensational figure, Sandra Carter.
The evening wore on, and eventually the senior Watsons went home, and just after they did, Oliver looked questioningly at Sarah. She had been oddly quiet for the last half hour, and he knew she was thinking about what she would say to the children. In a way, they were all so tired that it would have been better to wait another day, but she had thought about it for so long that now she wanted to tell them.