The Last Original Wife (23 page)

CHAPTER 19

Les Returns

B
y the time I left, there were thirty-six one-pint containers of various soups, stews, and pastas stacked up in the freezer, all labeled and dated. The atmosphere did not improve a whole lot except that Wes was being
extremely
nice. He wasn't kidding me. Not anymore.

Thursday night I
served
chicken piccata with a mushroom risotto and a green salad. Wes was able to dress and come to the table unassisted, so as far as I was concerned, my responsibilities to take care of him
in sickness
had been fulfilled.

“So you're really leaving in the morning?” Charlotte said.

“Where're you going, Gammy?” Holly said, picking the mushrooms out of her risotto.

“Back to my brother's house,” I said. “You'll have to get your mother to bring you down to see me and I'll take you to the beach. We can make a sand castle and hunt for seashells and all sorts of wonderful things. Don't you like mushrooms?”

“I like 'em separate. You bring me, Mommy?”

“Sure,” Charlotte said.

“This is absolutely delicious,” Wes said.

“Yeah, it's totally awesome,” Bertie said.

“Thanks,” I said. “But I've made this dish exactly the same way for as long as I've been cooking.”

“Well, it's more delicious than I remember,” Wes said.

I wanted to slap him right across his disingenuous face. I sighed instead.

“So when will we see you again?” Charlotte said.

“I'll be back for Molly's wedding, but Harlan is coming home and I'd like to spend some time with him.”

“That's an excellent idea, Les,” Wes said. “Please give him my very best regards.”

I looked at him and thought, Now it's time to knock his teeth out. But I sighed again, doubly hard. It was the very first congenial thing Wes had to say about Harlan in twenty years or maybe ever. And there was no possible way that he meant that or any of the overblown compliments and platitudes he was hurling around like Frisbees.

“Do you need a ride to the airport?” Charlotte asked.

Suddenly I had a chauffeur?

“No, but thank you. I'm going to drive back to Charleston,” I said.

“How come?” Wes said and wiped his mouth with his napkin. “Do you think I can have another piece of that delicious chicken? Is there enough to go around for everyone to have seconds?”

“There's plenty. Charlotte, please give your father another piece of the delicious chicken.” Obviously Wes had gone off the deep end. “Because I need a car there, and I want to take some things with me. It's not that long of a trip.”

Charlotte got up without a word and fixed Wes another serving of everything on his plate.

“What are you taking?” Wes said and resumed eating with theatrical relish. “My God! This is unbelievable chicken!”

Where were my hip boots when I needed them?

“Are you worried that I'm taking the silver?” I asked.

“No, of course not, Les,” Wes said. “The silver! Isn't your mom funny? Ha! Ha! Good one, Les!”

Charlotte and Bertie exchanged nervous looks.

“I'm taking some more clothes and a few other things I'd like to have with me.”

“Well, then take my car,” Wes said. “The tires are newer, and it's got roadside assistance if you get a flat or something, God forbid!”

The Almighty Benz? Did Wes grow a giant brain tumor overnight?

“But, Wes, I've never driven your car,” I said.

“That's because
no one
drives Daddy's car,” Charlotte said. “Unless they want to die.”

“Charlotte, don't be silly! Leslie? I insist! Drive it around the block while the kids do the dishes. You're taking the Benz and I don't want to hear another word about it.”

The
kids
were going to do the dishes? What did he say to them?

“Wes? What if something happens to it?” I said.

“Oh, don't worry. It's leased.”

How could I forget that? How? Really? Easy. Because I didn't want
to remember
that he leased a new Benz every three years so he could get all the latest gadgets like fanny warmers and massagers. I drove an old Audi that I bought used that was leap years behind in technology. It was so old it didn't even have a GPS, much less satellite radio or backup warning sensors.

“Well, if you insist,” I said.

“I insist. The key is in the ashtray of the car.”

After dinner, the kids actually cleaned the kitchen, and I took Wes's car out for a spin. I have to say, it was pretty much like heaven to drive. I thought, Well, you know what? Maybe I'll dump my old Audi and lease one of these for myself! Why shouldn't I have a nice car, one as nice as his? Maybe even one slightly newer!

The next morning I packed the Audi. I didn't want Wes's car. Then I went into Wes's files with the secret forbidden key to look for the title and I found it in the folder named
cars
. Then I pulled a dozen checks from our joint checking account register that I had never used and put them in an envelope in my purse. I was all done with Wes Carter deciding who got what when and how much. I left the key in the center of his desk. Naked, waiting for an inquisitive pair of eyes.

No one was awake except Holly, and she was in the den fully occupied by an episode of
Sesame Street,
eating dry Cheerios with a juice box. Charlotte kept those things on a lower shelf in the pantry within her reach. This was parenting in 2012? I gave her a kiss and a hug and told her she was a good girl. She smiled like an angel and told me she loved me.

I had a cup of coffee and looked around, picking up a few things—pictures of my parents, the children, and Holly; a paperweight my father had given me; a small clock that I'd always loved. Its chime would remind me of Holly's sweet voice. In a shoebox, I packed up my CDs of Mendelssohn, Schubert, Bach, and Vivaldi that no one would miss. And I took my seldom used rice steamer. After all, if I was to have a new life in Charleston, it couldn't be a proper life without a rice steamer. I'd take my mother's silver at another time. If I moved out bit by bit, no one would even notice.

I was about to leave when Bertie stumbled into the kitchen, wiping the sleep from his eyes.

“Hey, Mom. I'm glad you're still here,” he said. “We got coffee?”

“Yep. A whole pot.”

“Sweet.” He poured himself a mugful. “So I've been thinking about what you said; you know, the other day when you read me and Charlotte the riot act?”

“What about it?” I said.

“Well, I just think you have to accept us for who we are, you know? I mean, we accept you for who you are, don't we? It's important to be tolerant of others and celebrate our differences.”

It was really much too early in the day for murder.

“Bertie, here's my problem with that reasoning. When people see you, they think
this
is who you are.” I waved my hand from his head to his feet. “But the truth is that this whole costumelike persona is only one tiny aspect of who you are. There's a lot more on the inside than you can see on the outside. So as long as you look like this, people will judge you unfairly.”

“Mom, I look like all the guys my age in Kathmandu.”

“But you're in Atlanta. Take a bath.”

“I see your point.”

“Look, I've got to get on the road or else I'm going to sit in rush-hour traffic for hours. I'll see you in a few weeks if you're still here for the wedding.”

“Yeah, I think I'm gonna stay for a while. Dad needs help getting around, and it's pretty nice here at this time of year.”

“You might think about gainful employment,” I said, and he gave me a look. “It's just a thought.”

“Mom! Wait!”

It was Charlotte.

“You didn't have to get up,” I said. “We said our good-byes last night.”

She threw her arms around me and hugged me hard. Then she stood back and looked at me with such an odd expression I thought she was going to start crying.

“Taking Dad to the doctor. Checkup this morning.”

“Good,” I said.

“I'm sorry, Mom. I don't blame you for being frustrated with us. We suck.”

“Yeah, at the moment you both sort of do, but life's long and there's time yet for you both to amount to something spectacular.”

“I'm going to do better. I swear,” Charlotte said.

“Me too,” Bertie said.

“That's a start. But I'd rather see y'all shoot higher than to merely be
better—
go be brilliant! Now, I'll call y'all when I arrive, okay? Tell your father I said so.”

There were the perfunctory kisses all around and one last hug from Holly, who had traipsed in to see what was going on.

“Love you, Gammy,” she said. “Don't go.”

I didn't want to leave her either, but the only way Charlotte was ever going to be the kind of mother Holly needed was if she had to.

“It's okay, Holly Doodle, I'll be back before you know it.”

They followed me to the garage, watched me squeeze through the narrow space between my car and the wall to get in my car, because Wes insisted on the better one, and only then did they realize that I wasn't taking the Benz.

“Hey!” Charlotte said. “I thought you were taking Dad's car!”

“Nah,” I said. “I decided to get a Benz of my own when I get to Charleston. You can tell that to your father too if you want.”

“Righteous,” Bertie said and smiled.

“Oh, shut up, Bertie,” Charlotte said. “You've never even surfed one day in your whole life.”

“Bye, y'all!” I said, raised my window, and backed out of the garage. Wes was in my rearview mirror, dressed for the day and holding
The Wall Street Journal
. I stopped and rolled down my window again.

“Les? Can you turn the car off? I want to talk to you for a minute.”

Every hair on the back of my neck stood up. Instinctively, I knew Wes had something up his sleeve. Had he already discovered the missing checks? And that I had taken the title to the Audi?

“Sure,” I said and put the car in park.

“Want to get out so we can go sit on the porch?”

“Okay,” I said, turned the car off, and got out. “What's going on, Wes?”

“I've been thinking, that's all, and I just want to talk to you about something.”

I sat on one of the wrought-iron benches that stood on either side of our front door, and he sat on the other.

“You know, I don't think we've ever sat on these at the same time,” I said, and it was true. They were awfully nice, but mostly decorative.

“You're probably right. So, Les, I've been thinking. We can't do this like this.”

“Do what how?” I said.

“Almost thirty years together and boom? It's not right. I think we owe each other more than this, you know, to at least try and figure out what we're doing here.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, remember I told you that I got the name of someone I wanted us to go and see? They're these supershrinks who manage to rehab all kinds of relationships, and I think we ought to go and see them. You know, give it a stab? In fact, I've already set up a couple of crisis sessions with them for the week after next. Normally, it takes weeks to get in, but I convinced them . . .”

“You
what
?”

“Yeah, I did. I knew you wanted to go see your brother and all that, which is fine. So go see him, have fun, but please if you can, come back next Sunday so we can make our Monday appointments?”

I thought about it and came to a quick conclusion that it was hopeless.

“I don't know, Wes. I don't know.”

“Look, I never asked you for much,” he said. “I think this is critical.”

I just looked at him and cocked my head to one side. Was he kidding? Never asked me for much? He saw it on my face.

“Okay,” he said, “maybe I asked for a lot. But you're walking out of here and busting up our family like this? I just think you owe it to me and to all of us to make sure this is the right thing to do.”

Now what was I supposed to say to that? Frankly, I didn't feel like I owed him a damn thing. It was quite the other way around. But he had gone to the trouble of trying to get us to at least talk it out with a professional. Maybe that meant something. Maybe his experience with cancer had made him reconsider his behavior.

“Okay, Wes. I'll go to one session for you, but that's it.”

“Well, I booked more than one, but we'll see. Thanks, Leslie. I just don't want you to have any regrets.”

“I'll see you Sunday,” I said and started the car. “E-mail me the information, okay?”

“Sure. Drive safe.”

Wes was really going to lose his mind when he discovered the missing checks. He was going to need CPR. I smiled the whole way out of Atlanta. I knew the only reason he wanted to see those psychiatrists was because he didn't want to give up one dime he had to his name. It had nothing to do with love. But what if it did? It was true that different people loved in different ways and that they showed it differently. What if all the nice things Wes had been saying to me were his way of trying to show me how much he cared? It was easy to leave Wes when I was convinced he didn't give a damn, but I didn't want to hurt anyone. That wasn't the woman I'd ever been. But they all made me so angry! What would life be if I went back to Wes? Horrible! It gave me chest pain to even consider it. But was I ready to walk away from
all
of it? My
children
?
Holly?

I drove for several hours and finally began to sense the Lowcountry. I passed over the Edisto and other smaller bodies of water, over which hung the enormous branches of live oaks and long sheers of Spanish moss. Those haunted trees had graced the banks of these same rivers and streams from the days the Catawbas, the Sewees, and the very first fathers and mothers of our country walked the land. At one point in South Carolina's history over twenty tribes of Native Americans lived here. In my mind's eye, I could almost see them silently moving down the water in canoes or making their way through the woods. The water, glassy and pristine, reflected every dock and boat and tree in a perfect mirror image. How did I always forget how powerful the Lowcountry was? Because I had lived the past thirty-plus years of my life in Atlanta, lost in the needs of Wes and the children when Wes had never cared about mine. It was so beautiful here you could lose yourself in the landscape.