Read Breaking the Ties That Bind Online
Authors: Gwynne Forster
Breaking the Ties That Bind (8 page)
“I’m glad to meet you. You’re a surprise. On the radio, you sound like a jeans-clad teenager.”
“Good Lord! I hope not. I’ll correct that at once. But you shouldn’t worry. I’m usually wearing jeans or something of that order when you hear me.”
“That’s not the point. In person, you look like the type who’d be emceeing an opera at the Met in New York.”
“Thanks for the compliment. What are the other panelists like? Should I expect dialogue, argument, attempts at put-down, or what?”
“I expect this will be more academic. At least, I plan to guide it in that direction. It’s a very serious topic, to which I believe many people have needed an answer. And it’s also a problem that people do not share readily, if at all.” He answered another tap on his door, and a tall woman who appeared to be in her late forties or early fifties walked in.
“It’s good to see you again, Luke,” the woman said.
“Thanks so much for inviting me. What an exciting topic! I read the letter in the
Post,
and when I received your call, I was planning to write a reply.”
Post,
and when I received your call, I was planning to write a reply.”
“Thanks for coming, Edwina. Dr. Prill, this is Kendra Richards. Ms. Richards, this is Edwina Prill.”
The two women shook hands, and Kendra was relieved to note that the woman gave no evidence of competitiveness. They exchanged pleasantries, and it surprised Kendra that Edwina Prill made no reference to the topic they were to discuss during the show. A solid knock announced the arrival of the last panelist.
“Sorry I’m late, Luke,” the man said, and a loud gasp escaped Kendra as the man strode to Luke Unger and shook his hand.
“Ms. Richards, this is Professor Samuel Hayes. Sam, you know Dr. Prill.”
“Get yourself together,” she told herself as the man she’d wanted so badly to meet walked toward her with his hand outstretched.
“I’m delighted to . . .” Sparks of electricity seemed to dance off their hands when they touched. She felt it, and she knew he did, too. Both withdrew quickly.
When Kendra realized that Unger and Edwina Prill were gaping at them, she joshed, “You must be a magician as well as a teacher, Professor Hayes.”
He smiled, and she didn’t miss the intimacy of it. “I was about to wonder if your radio voice came over the air on your own air waves. I’m glad to meet you. Your letter to the
Post
piqued my interest. I wouldn’t have missed being here.”
Post
piqued my interest. I wouldn’t have missed being here.”
“Let’s go to the studio,” Luke said, shaking his head as if bemused. “We have about twenty-five minutes for tea or coffee and some cookies.”
Kendra noticed that Samuel Hayes maneuvered so as to walk beside her. She glanced down at his left hand, but couldn’t see his ring finger. If she reacted that way to the man only to discover that he was married, she’d swear that Providence was against her.
“How long have you been a disc jockey, Ms. Richards?”
She loved his voice. It had a comforting quality, like a warm blanket. “About three months. I began as a canned music jock and Mr. Howell promoted me to live radio. He took a big chance.”
“He probably didn’t think so; he knows his business. I assure you that I would never have guessed you were the jock on that show.”
“I hope that’s a compliment.”
“I don’t know. You’re . . . well, different from what I expected, but pleasantly so.”
“Don’t tell me you expected tight jeans with holes in the knees.”
“Not quite, but you’re getting there.”
Unger stood beside an open door. “We’ll be in here for the time being. Sorry I can’t offer you margaritas, but a serious topic requires clear heads.”
“What about after the topic has been aptly aired?” Hayes said.
“Same thing,” Unger shot back. “One should use that time for constructive reflection.”
“Yeah. Right,” Edwina Prill said. “I’ve done a lot of serious reflection with a glass of scotch whiskey and soda in my hand.” The four enjoyed a hearty laugh.
“What about you?” Sam Hayes asked Kendra after the laughter died down.
“I’ve never tasted scotch whiskey in my life. By the time I was old enough to drink, the stuff cost too much. My dad’s tastes run to bourbon, beer, and good wine, so he was an unlikely source. Have I missed much, Dr. Prill?”
“Pour yourselves coffee, tea, cocoa, or green tea. And I see we have a chocolate cake, oatmeal-raisin cookies, and some cheese puffs. We can drink tea or coffee during the show, but if you want to eat something, now’s the time. We’ll have a small audience of perhaps fifty or so. A lot of listeners have phoned in to verify the time of this program.”
When they filed into the broadcast studio twenty-five minutes later, they had developed the warmth and camaraderie that Kendra realized was Unger’s intention in asking them to arrive an hour early.
Unger introduced the panelists. “A letter to the
Washington Post
prompted me to have a discussion of a topic that many people wrestle with daily. What is our obligation to our parents, and when are we not obligated to them?” He read Kendra’s letter. “Doctor Prill, what do you think of this letter, in general?”
Washington Post
prompted me to have a discussion of a topic that many people wrestle with daily. What is our obligation to our parents, and when are we not obligated to them?” He read Kendra’s letter. “Doctor Prill, what do you think of this letter, in general?”
“Thank you, Mr. Unger. First, I do not believe that the mother is insane or mentally deficient in any way. Even without knowing her childhood background, it is clear to me that she is extremely selfish and may be narcissistic. Her daughter owes her nothing, not even ‘good morning.’”
Sam Hayes balled his fists and knocked his knuckles together in the manner of one anxious to get a crack at something. “I think this child is starved for nurturing, for the love we all naturally expect from our parents, and is attempting to buy the mother’s affection and love. He or she is obviously an income-earning adult and, in borrowing money, the mother is taking advantage and giving nothing in return,” he said. “Remember that she takes what she knows the child needs and squanders it. What do you think, Ms. Richards?”
Suddenly, Kendra wanted to be left out of the discussion. She suspected that Prill, Hayes, and Unger knew they were talking about her and her mother, and that they treated it as an anonymous matter in order not to embarrass her. Would they evaluate the problem differently if they knew more about Ginny and her life since early childhood, as her uncle had related it? She took a deep breath and thought of an appropriate answer to Sam’s question.
“I’m not an expert on interpersonal relations, but from what you and Dr. Prill have said, it would seem that the mother thinks the child has no backbone and won’t stand up to her.”
“Hasn’t that been the case so far?” Sam asked. “Was the child born out of wedlock?”
“No. The father foiled the mother’s attempt to have an abortion, and because of her attitude toward the child, among other things, he divorced her.”
“So the child has a father?” Prill asked. “What role does he play in the child’s life now?”
“I think he is and always has been the stabilizing factor in that child’s life.”
Sam rubbed his chin reflectively. “Really? In my professional opinion, that child should cut ties with the mother. Otherwise, the mother will destroy the child along with herself.”
No longer able to affect an impartial attitude toward the discussion, Kendra stared at Sam. “Suppose the mother becomes ill? Should the child just ignore that, or should he or she take care of the mother?”
Hayes let his quick shrug relate his personal feelings about that question. “Not if she experiences anger, hatred, or resentment as a result.”
Prill questioned that. “But what about moral obligation?”
Unger seemed impatient with that viewpoint. “What about it? If I were faced with that dilemma, and if I had the money, I’d pay her sick bills and bury her when she died, but that’s all she’d get from me.”
Sam Hayes looked straight at Kendra when he said, “Consciously or unconsciously, that mother knows that the child is trying to make her love her, and that only puffs up her ego.”
“Yeah,” Unger said. “Too bad.”
Edwina Prill offered a prophesy. “When that woman is old, alone, and looking back on her life, the word, ‘daughter’ or ‘son’ will finally have meaning for her.”
The comments of Prill and Hayes became increasingly academic, exposing the cause of Ginny’s selfish behavior and justifying Kendra’s growing distaste for her mother. As they talked, she made notes on what she would one day say to Virginia Hunter.
At the end of the hour, the audience of about seventy people stood and applauded. Unger thanked them, and one man yelled, “Bring them back and let us ask questions.”
“I’ll try to arrange that,” Unger said. “My thanks to Ms. Richards, Dr. Prill, and Professor Hayes for an enlightening and engrossing evening.”
No matter how hard he tried, Samuel Hayes could not associate Kendra Richards with her letter to the
Washington Post.
And as he reflected upon her contribution to the discussion of her letter, he was convinced that she wrote about her own mother and herself. As a professor of family psychology with a dozen academic texts on the subject to his credit, he could not associate her with the woman she described in her letter. Scratch that. He didn’t want to associate her with such a mother, because a woman with a mother like that one was likely to be cool, uncaring, and sexually frigid. And considering the wallop he got when he shook hands with her and his certainty that it happened to her, too, resolving it with her could be like trying to climb a mountain with bare feet and bare hands.
Washington Post.
And as he reflected upon her contribution to the discussion of her letter, he was convinced that she wrote about her own mother and herself. As a professor of family psychology with a dozen academic texts on the subject to his credit, he could not associate her with the woman she described in her letter. Scratch that. He didn’t want to associate her with such a mother, because a woman with a mother like that one was likely to be cool, uncaring, and sexually frigid. And considering the wallop he got when he shook hands with her and his certainty that it happened to her, too, resolving it with her could be like trying to climb a mountain with bare feet and bare hands.
He walked beside her as they were leaving the building.
“Did you drive?” he asked her.
“No. I don’t have a car.”
“Dr. Prill drives. This is not a neighborhood in which you should walk alone at night. Will you ride with me?”
When she seemed to hesitate, he said, “Look, Kendra. I’m thirty-four, and that’s too old to play games. I want to get to know you. Also, I haven’t had dinner, and I’m hungry. Will you have dinner with me?”
She hadn’t hesitated deliberately, but had been wondering how to prolong the evening, and to see him again. She hadn’t thought that he might be a professor, and especially not a professor at George Washington University. She liked what she’d learned about him, and he wasn’t wearing a ring.
“I’d like that. Thank you.” Not every man wore a wedding band, so she’d better ask. “Are you married? If you are, I’d like to go straight home.”
“I’m not married or engaged. I don’t cheat, Kendra.”
“Professor Hayes, I couldn’t look at you and know your vital statistics, could I?”
Laughter streamed out of him, and her smile suggested that she liked laughter.
“I guess not,” he said. “The women I meet these days don’t seem to care about my marital status. I’m glad you do. And I’d be more comfortable and enjoy my dinner a lot more if you’d call me Sam. I haven’t asked if you’re married, because Unger introduced you as
Miss
Richards.” He assisted her into his car and fastened her seat belt.
Miss
Richards.” He assisted her into his car and fastened her seat belt.
He stopped for the red light at Fourteenth and P streets and looked her way. Not even the dim light could hide the mischievous glints in her eyes. “Are you one of these chauvinists who rejects the title, Ms.? Come now, Sam.”
“Hold it. You’re not accusing me of . . . wait a minute. Are you married?”
“No, I’m not,” she said with a grin. “I wouldn’t cheat.”
Hmm. So she liked to tease. He could certainly handle that; he wasn’t bad at it himself. “I had in mind an Italian restaurant just off Dupont Circle. Do you like Italian food? If not, we can go to a steak house not far from there.”
“I like your first choice, and I especially like the variety of foods and flavors in Italian cooking.”
“Then that’s the second thing we have in common.”
“What’s the first?” she asked him. They approached Dupont Circle, one of many circles in Washington, D.C., and he parked a few doors from it.
“Sorry we have to cross the circle, Kendra, but I can’t pass up this parking space. I might not find another one.”
“I don’t mind walking. Are you going to answer my question?”
He walked around to the passenger side of the car, but when he got there, she was already getting out. “Next time, wait till I get around here, otherwise, how will you know I’m a gentleman?”
“You’ll find other ways to let me know. About my question . . .”
He grasped her hand and, once more, he felt the sparks, and the energy from it traveled to his armpits. He stopped walking and stared down at her. “Did you feel that?”
She nodded. “I was wondering if you did.”
“Absolutely. All the way to my armpits. And that’s the answer to your question, Kendra. The first thing we have in common is our mutual attraction.” She attempted to remove her hand, but he wouldn’t release it. “If you’d rather not be attracted to me, let’s settle that this minute.”
“You think I planned it?” she asked him. “Being attracted to you means I’ll spend a lot of time daydreaming when I should be studying or working. And I’ve . . .” She slapped her hand over her mouth.
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