Changes (46 page)

When Mel left the house that night, she simply got in the car and drove, with no set plan of where to go, no one she wanted to see. All she wanted to do was get away, from her house, her job, their kids, and him. And for the first fifty miles, all she thought of was where she was leaving from, not where she was going to.

But after that, she began to relax, and suddenly after almost two hours, she stopped for gas, and grinned to herself. She had never done anything quite as outrageous in her life, as she had done in walking out on him. But she couldn't take anymore. Everyone was pushing her, and it was time she thought of herself instead of all of them. Even as far as this baby was concerned. She didn't have to do a damn thing she didn't want to do. She didn't even have to live in that house if she didn't want to. Hell, she made a million bucks a year, she could buy her own goddamn house, she told herself. She didn't have to live with Anne's ghost, if she didn't want to, and she already knew that she did not. And as she began driving again, with a full tank of gas, she began thinking of all the changes she had made in her life in the last six months, and how few changes had been required of Peter. He still worked in the same place, with the same people who respected his work, slept in the same bed he had slept in for a number of years. His children hadn't been moved out of their home. He even had the same housekeeper. The only thing that had changed for him was the face he kissed before he left the house for work, and maybe he didn't even notice that. And as Mel pulled into Santa Barbara, she began to steam again, and she was glad she'd left. She was only sorry she hadn't done it before, but who had time, between driving Pam to her shrink, trying to pacify the twins, keep a remote eye on Mark, and play Mommy to Matthew, and hold Peter's hand when his transplant patients died, not to mention doing interviews, specials, and the six o'clock news every night, it was a wonder she had time to dress and comb her hair. To hell with all of them. Peter, the kids, and Paul Stevens. Let him anchor alone for a while, they could always say that she was sick. To hell with them. She didn't care.

She pulled into a motel and paid for a room, which looked like it could have been anywhere in the world, from Beirut to New Orleans, when she glanced at the rust-colored shag rug on the floor, the orange vinyl chairs, the spotless white tile bathroom, the rust-colored bedspread. It was definitely not the Bel-Air, or even the Santa Barbara Biltmore, where she had stayed years before, and she didn't give a damn. She took a hot bath, turned on the TV, watched the news when it came on at eleven o'clock, by habit more than desire, and turned out the light without calling home. Screw them all, she thought to herself, and for the first time in months she felt free, to do what she wanted to do, to be herself, to make up her own mind without considering a living, breathing soul.

And then suddenly as she lay in bed, she thought of what was inside of her, and realized that even here she wasn't totally alone. The baby had come with her … the baby … as though it were already a person separate from herself … She lay a hand on her stomach, which had been so flat a month before, and now there was a small but distinct bulge where the hollow between her hip bones had been. And it was odd to think what would happen if she went on with the pregnancy. The baby would become real to her, she would feel it move in about six weeks … for a tiny moment, there was a tender feeling deep inside her, and then she let it go. She didn't want to think of that right now. She didn't want to think of anything. She closed her eyes and went to sleep, without dreaming of Peter, or the children or their unborn child, or anything. She just lay in bed in the motel room and slept, and when she woke up the next day, the sun was streaming into her room, and she couldn't remember where she was at first, and when she looked around and realized where she was, she laughed to herself. She felt good, and strong, and free.

And when Peter woke up that morning in Bel-Air, he reached over to the other side of the bed, instinctively feeling for her, and when his hand and leg met smooth, empty sheets, he opened one eye, and then he remembered with a sinking heart that she was gone. He turned over and lay staring up at the ceiling for a long time, wondering where she was, and remembering why she had gone. It was really all his fault, he told himself, you couldn't blame the kids, or Paul Stevens at her job, or Mrs. Hahn. It was that he had done everything wrong from the first. He had expected too much of her, expected her to change her entire life … for him. And he knew she regretted everything she'd done, as he lay there reproaching himself. He thought of how much she loved her life in New York, and wondered how he had even dared to think she could give that up. A job that any man in the country would have drooled to have, a house she loved, her friends, her life, her town …

And as Melanie began driving slowly north, she thought of Peter's face the first time they had met, those endless first days during the interview, the exhausting hours they shared when the President had been shot … his first trip to New York. She began to think not so much of what she'd had there, but what she'd gotten in exchange … the first time Matt had climbed into her lap … a look in Pam's eyes once or twice … the moments when Mark had clung to her and cried when Val almost died on their skiing trip. Suddenly it was difficult to exorcise them all from her life. Her anger now was directed more at the twins, at Jess for expecting too much of her, for expecting her to be there for everyone and especially for her, at Val for resenting this baby in her mother's life because she hadn't been able to have her own.

She owed them more than that. But how much more did she have to give? No more than she had already given them, that was the tragedy of it, and it wasn't enough, she knew. And now there was one more pair of eyes to look into hers one day and tell her that she didn't have enough to give to him, or her … and there was nothing at all left of herself. It exhausted her to think of it, and she was relieved when she saw Carmel at last. All she wanted to do was check into another motel and go back to sleep again … to get away … to dream … to escape …

“When's Mommy coming back?” Matthew stared glumly at his plate, and then at the rest of them. No one had said a word since they had sat down to dinner that night. It didn't feel like Sunday night without her. It was Mrs. Hahn's day off, and usually Mel made them all something they liked to eat. She talked and laughed and listened to them, kept an eye on everyone, and spoke about what she had lined up in the week ahead, knowing full well that everything would change before the week was halfway out. But she would tease and joke, and manage to include everyone, or try to. Matthew looked up at Peter then, his eyes filled with reproach. “Why did you make her go away?”

“She'll be back.” Jessica was the first to speak, as tears filled her eyes. “She just went away for a little rest.”

“Why can't she rest here?” He looked accusingly at her. She was the only one who would speak to him. The rest of them seemed to have been struck dumb, but Mark addressed him now.

“Because we all wear her out, Matt. We expect too goddamn much of her.” Mark looked pointedly at Pam, and then let his glance take in everyone, and after dinner Peter heard him shouting at Val. “You blamed her for goddamn everything … that you had to leave New York … your friends … your school … you even blamed her for what happened to us. It wasn't her fault, Val.” But the pretty little blonde sat down and cried so hard that he didn't have the heart to go on. Peter walked slowly up the stairs to Val's room, and found them all sitting there except for Pam, who was lying on her bed, staring at the ceiling with the radio on. She had wanted her to go. She admitted it to herself, even if she wouldn't have told her shrink. She wanted her own mother back. But she understood now that that was never going to be. It was either Mel or this incredible emptiness, the same way it had been when her mom was first gone, with only Mrs. Hahn there for them, and suddenly Pam knew that wasn't what she wanted, for them, or for herself. She got up and walked into the twins' room and found the others there, even Matt, sitting sadly on the floor.

“Boy, this room is small.” She looked around. Her room was twice that size. Val and Jess didn't say anything, but they turned as they saw Peter in the doorway.

“Yes, it is.” But it only reminded him of what Mel had said, that the twins had never shared a room in their life. And here, they were squashed in like orphans, while Pam had a room twice the size. Had everything she said been true? Most of it, he told himself. Not all of it. But too much for him to be able to discard all that she had said.

“A double room?” The man at the motel in Carmel asked.

“No.” She smiled tiredly. “A single will be fine.” He looked at her sorrowfully. They always said that, and then a guy and two kids would make a mad dash into the room, thinking he wouldn't know that they were there. And they probably had a large slobbering dog. But this time he was wrong. She took her small overnight bag out of the car, walked inside and closed the door, and lay down on the bed without looking around. It was almost identical to the room she'd had the night before. There was a sameness to everything new as she lay down in another orange vinyl room with a rust-colored shag rug, and went to sleep from sheer exhaustion.

“Dr. Hallam?”

“Hmm?” A nurse had spoken to him, and he sat in a cubicle with a stack of charts, grateful that they had only had two bypasses to do that morning.

“Is something wrong?” She was terrified of him. He was a great man and if she made a mistake, her neck would be on the line, but he only looked at her and shook his head with a tired smile.

“Everything is fine. What about Iris Lee? Is there any reaction to the drugs yet?”

“Not yet.” She had had the transplant two weeks before, and everything seemed to be going well, but Peter didn't have a lot of hope for her. They hadn't gotten a heart in time, and had had to put a child's heart piggyback with her own. Sometimes the technique had worked well for him, but Iris had been so frail, in her case it had been a desperate move, and he had been expecting the worst for days. And this time, Mel wouldn't be there for him. It was like in the days after Anne's death. He was alone now. And even lonelier than he had been when Anne died.

“Jess?”

“Yeah?”

Val lay on her bed after school, while Jessie sat at the desk in their room. “Do you ever wish we'd go back to New York?”

“Sure.” She turned to look at her twin. “Lots of times. There's nothing wrong with that. We lived there for a long time.”

“Do you suppose that's where Mom went?” She had been thinking about it all day.

“I don't know. I don't know where she'd go. She might even be in L.A.”

“And not call us?” Val looked horrified and Jessie smiled.

“Would you call us if you felt like that?”

Val shook her head. “I guess not.”

“Neither would I.” She stared out the window then with a small sigh. “I blamed everything on her, Val. Everything. It was so fucking unfair, but all the decisions were hers. She always used to ask us what we thought about things, and this time she just went ahead, and pulled us out of school, moved out here …” She thought about it for a long time. “I guess I was pissed at her for taking the decisions out of our hands.”

“She must have thought she was doing the right thing.” Val looked sad and Jess nodded her head and looked at her.

“The bitch of it is that she did. I like Peter, don't you?”

Val nodded her head again. “All I could think of when I heard we were moving out here was Mark.”

Jess smiled. “I know that. It sure didn't help me much while we were leaving New York. Mom had Peter, you had Mark. And I had shit.” She grinned. It didn't seem so awful now. She liked their school, and she had met a nice boy a month or so before. For the first time in her life, she had met someone she really cared about. He was twenty-one, and she had a feeling that her mom was going to have a fit, especially after what had happened with Val and Mark. But she knew that this was going to be someone special to her, and she sat staring into space with a distant smile.

“What are you grinning about?” Val had been watching her. “And you sit there with a happy smile. What's up?”

“Nothing much.”

But instantly Val knew. Jess may have gotten the better grades, but Val knew men. She zeroed in on her sister with narrowed eyes. “Are you in love?”

Jess looked at her with a smile. She hadn't want to tell her yet. “Not yet. But I met someone nice.”

“You?” Val looked stunned, and Jessie nodded, unwilling to say more. But Val didn't look impressed. “Just watch out.” They both knew what she meant, and Val had been right. She'd learned one of the toughest lessons of life, and she wouldn't forget.

Mrs. Hahn served them dinner silently that night, and Peter didn't get home till nine o'clock. Matthew was already in bed, tucked in by Jess, Pam, and Val, and Peter went upstairs to check on them. “Everyone all right?” They were a quiet group, but everyone nodded as he went from room to room. He had had a rough day but there was no one to tell, he stopped in the twins' room and stared at Jess. “Any word from your mom?” She only shook her head and he went back downstairs, just as Mel drove up San Francisco's California Street on Nob Hill, and checked into the Stanford Court Hotel. It was a refreshing change from the motels she'd been staying at, and the room was all done in gray velvets and silks and moiré, and she collapsed on the bed with a tired groan. She felt as though she had been driving for days and days and days, and she reminded herself to slow down a bit. She hadn't made her mind up yet, and she didn't want to lose the baby before she did. She had a responsibility to it, if it was going to live. She lay awake thinking about it that night, about how angry Val had been, Jess's fury over just how many changes she expected them to make … Pam's hostility and ploys for attention for herself, even poor little Matt's hurt, and Peter's expectation that she would have the baby in spite of it all, as an antidote to his constant bouts with death in the operating room. It all seemed terribly unfair. She had to have it, or not have it, for all of them. Once again, the issue was them and not herself.