Bygones (3 page)

The room fell into silence. Finally Bess said, “I must apologize, Mark, I’ve been taken off guard here. The truth is
,
I feel as though I barely know you. You do some kind of factory work, I think.”

“Yes. I’m a machinist. I make good money, and I have good benefits. Lisa and I won’t have any problems that way.”

“Isn’t this awfully sudden? You and Lisa have known each other-what-less than a year. I mean, couldn’t you wait, say half a year or so, and give yourselves time to get to know one another better and to plan a wedding properly, and give us a chance to meet your family?”

Mark’s eyes sought Lisa’s. His cheeks colored. “I’m afraid not, Mrs. Curran.” Quietly, without challenge, he said, “You see, Lisa and I are going to have a baby.”

An invisible mushroom cloud seemed to form over the table.

Michael covered his mouth with his hand and frowned.

Bess drew a breath and held it. Lisa sat quietly, relaxed.

“We’re actually quite happy about it,” Mark added, “and we hoped you’d be, too.”

Bess dropped her forehead into one hand. Her daughter pregnant and planning a hasty
wedding,
and she should be happy?

Mark rose and went to stand behind Lisa’s chair with his hands on her shoulders. “I think I should say something here, Mr. and Mrs. Curran. I love your daughter.
very
much, and she loves me.
We
 
want
to get married. We’ve both got jobs and a decent place to live. This baby could have a lot worse starts than that.”

Bess came out of her stupor. “In this enlightened day and age, Lisa- .”

Michael interrupted. “Bess, come on now. The kids are doing the honorable thing telling us their plans, asking for our support. I think we should give it to them.”

She bit back a retort about birth control, and sat simmering while Michael went on, remarkably coolheaded. “You’re sure this is what you want to do, Lisa?”

“Very sure.
Mark and I had talked about getting married even before I got pregnant, and we had agreed that we’d both like to have a family when we are young.
So none of this was nearly as much of a shock to us as it is to you.
We’re happy, Dad, honest we are. And I do love Mark very much.”

Lisa sounded wholly convincing.

Michael looked up at Mark. “Have you told your parents yet?” “Yes, last night.”

Michael felt a shaft of disappointment at being list to learn, but what could he expect when Mark’s family was, apparently, still an intact, happy unit? “What did they say?”

“Well, they were a little surprised at first, naturally, but they know Lisa a lot better than you know me, so they got over it, and we had a little celebration.”

Lisa leaned forward and covered her mother’s hand on the tabletop. “Mark has wonderful parents, Mom.

They’re anxious to meet you and Dad, and right away Mark’s mother suggested a dinner party at their
house .
 
.
if
you two are agreeable.”

This isn’t how it’s supposed to be, Bess thought, battling tears, Michael and I practically strangers to our future son-in-law. Whatever happened to girls marrying the boy next door? Those lucky, I simpler times were
bygone
with the era of upward mobility, of rising divorce rates and single-parent homes.

Everyone was waiting for Bess to respond to the news, but she wasn’t ready yet emotionally. She felt like breaking down and bawling, and had to swallow hard before she could speak at all. “Your dad and I need to talk about a few things first.

Would you give us a day or two to do that?”

“Sure.” Lisa withdrew her hand and sat back.

“Would that be okay with you, Michael?” Bess asked him.

“Of course.”

Bess pushed her chair back. “Then I’ll call you, or Dad will.”

“Fine.
But you aren’t leaving yet, are you? I’ve got dessert.”

“It’s late. I’ve got to be at the store early tomorrow. I really should be going.” Bess rose, anxious to escape.

“Dad, will you stay and have dessert? It’s French silk pie.”

“I think I’ll pass, too, honey.”

They all stood awkwardly a moment, politely pretending this was not a scenario where parents were running distraught from the announcement that their twenty-one-year-old daughter was planning a shotgun wedding. In the crowded entry, Mark politely held Bess’s coat.

After another clumsy moment Michael offered his hand to Mark, and Mark gripped it. “We’ll talk soon,” Michael said.

“Thank you, sir.” Then the young man faced Bess. “Good night, Mrs. Curran.”

.”...Good night, Mark
,,
Unsure of himself, Mark hovered, and finally Bess raised her cheek to touch his gingerly.

Michael gave Lisa a hug, leaving only the mother and daughter to exchange some good-night gesture.

Bess found
herself
unable, so Lisa made the move. Once Bess felt her daughter’s arms around her, however, she clung, feeling her emotions billow.
Her precious firstborn, her Lisa.

Lisa, whom she and Michael had wanted so much.

Lisa, the product of that optimistic time.

Lisa, who now carried their grandchild.

Bess clutched Lisa and whispered throatily, “I love you,
Leelee
,” using the pet name Michael had given Lisa long ago, in a golden time when they’d all believed they’d live happily ever after.

“I love you, too, Mom.”

Michael, waiting with the door open, was touched by Bess’s use of the familiar baby name.

Bess squeezed Lisa’s arm. “I just need a little time. I’ll call you.”

She passed Michael and headed down the hall. He followed, buttoning his coat, watching her speed along with an air of efficiency, as if she were late for a business appointment. At the far end of the hall she descended two stairs before her bravado dissolved. Abruptly she stopped, gripped the rail with one hand, the other hand to her mouth, her back to him, crying.

He stopped on the step above her, with his hands in his coat pockets, watching her shoulders shape. He felt melancholy himself.

Reluctantly he touched her shoulder.

“t1w, Bess
.
. . . “ j

Her words were mined. “I’m sorry, Michael. I know I should be taking this
better.
. . but it’s such a disappointment.”

“Of course it is.
For me, too.”

Still with her back turned, she sniffed and said, “I’m appalled at myself for breaking down in front of you this way.”

“Oh, I’ve seen you cry before.”

“When we were married, yes.
But this is different.”

For a while neither of them spoke they just stood in the murky hallway, helpless to stop their daughter’s future from taking a downhill dive. Finally she turned to face him. “I can’t pretend this is anything but terrible, our only daughter and a shotgun wedding.”

“I know.” He drew a deep, tired breath and took stock of their surroundings. “I don’t think I want to discuss it in this hallway. You want to go have a cup of coffee or something?”

“Now?”

“Unless you really have to hurry home.”

“No. That was just an excuse to escape.”

“Then how about
The
Ground Round on

“The Ground Round would be fine.”

They turned and continued down the stairs. He opened the plate-glass door for her, experiencing a fleeting sense of
deja
vu. How many times during their courtship and marriage had he opened the door for her? Tonight, faced with an emotional upheaval, it felt reassuring to perform the small courtesy again.

Outside, their breath hung milky in the cold air, and the snow crunched beneath their feet.

“I’ll see you there,” Bess said.

Heading in opposite directions toward their cars, they started the long, rocky journey back toward amity.

Chapter Two

They met in the lobby of the restaurant and followed a young man who said, “Right this way.”

Michael felt the same d6jh vu as earlier, trailing Bess as he’d done countless times before, watching the sway of her coat, inhaling the faint drift of her perfume the same rosy scent she’d worn for years. The perfume was the only familiar thing about her. Everything else was new-the professionally streaked blond hair nearly touching her shoulders, the expensive clothes, the self-assurance, the brittleness. These had all been acquired since their divorce.

They sat at a table beside a window and ordered coffee. Bess fixed her gaze on Michael’s hands, wrapped palm over palm above a paper place mat. He had shapely hands, with long fingers. Bess had always loved his hands. Oftentimes after the divorce, at odd, unexpected moments-in a restaurant or a department store Bess would find herself staring at some stranger’s hands and remembering Michael’s. Then reality would return, and she would damn herself for becoming vulnerable to memory and loneliness. Now she drew her gaze from Michael’s hands to his face, daunted by the admission that she still found him handsome. For the first time, she noticed in his head of gorgeous black hair a few His, skeins of gray above his ears, discernible only under the direct light.

“Well . . .” she began, “this is the last place I expected to end up, when I told Lisa I’d come for supper.”

He chuckled quietly.
“Me, too.”

“I don’t think you’re as shocked by all this as I am, though.”

“I was shocked when you opened that door, I can tell you that.”

Silence for a moment, then, “Listen, Michael, I’m sorry about all that . . . well, Lisa’s obvious attempt to revive something between us. She should have known better.”

“It was uncomfortable, wasn’t it?”

“Yes, it was. It still is.”

Their coffee came-something neutral to focus on instead of each other. When the waitress went away, Bess asked, “Did you hear what Lisa said to me when we were alone in the kitchen?”

“No. What?”

“The gist of her message was, “Grow up, Mother. You’ve been acting like a child for six years.” I had no idea she was so angry about our antagonism, did you?”

“Only in retrospect, when she’d talk about Mark’s family and how close and loving they are.”

“When did she talk to you about that?”

“I don’t know-a couple of different times.”

“She never told me she talked to you so often.”

“You put up barriers, Bess, that’s why. You’re putting up a new one right now. You should see the expression on your face.”

“Well, it hurts to know she’s talked to you about these things, and that Mark’s family knows her better than we know Mark.”

“Sure it hurts. But why wouldn’t the two of them gravitate toward the family that stayed together? It’s only natural.”

“So what do you think of
Mark.?
”

“I have to admit I was impressed with him tonight-facing us head-on instead of leaving it to her to break the news. Doesn’t that I impress you?”

“I guess so.”

“And by the sound of it, he comes from a good family.”

Bess had decided something on the way to the restaurant. “I don’t want to meet them.”

“Aw, come on, Bess, that’s silly.
Why not?”

“I didn’t say I won’t meet them. I just don’t want to. It’s hard to be with happy families. It makes our own failure that much harder to bear.”

“Yeah, I know what you mean. And now for me it’s twice.
”.

She sipped her coffee, curious and hesitant.

“I can’t believe I’m asking this, but what happened?”

He stared at his cup. “What happened was that Darla and I were the wrong combination from the beginning. We were each unhappy in the marriage we had, and . .
.well
, we married each other, on the rebound. What it turned out to be was five years of coming to terms with the fact that we really never loved each other.”

Bess said, “That’s what I’m afraid is going to happen to Lisa.”

His steady hazel eyes held her brown ones.

After a moment he said, “But the choice isn’t ours to make.”

“So you don’t think we should try to talk them out of it?”

“No, I don’t. What would the other options be?
Abortion, adoption, or Lisa raising a baby alone.
When the two of them love each other and want to get married?
Wouldn’t make much sense at all.”

Bess sighed. “I guess I’m just reacting like a mother, wanting a guarantee that her daughter will be happy.”

“That’s not realistic.”

“What do you think about the rest? About us walking down the aisle with her, and her wearing my old wedding dress?”

They sat silently awhile as they thought about putting on a show of harmony before a couple hundred guests-some who’d been guests at their own wedding.