Upside Down (19 page)

“Well, there’s no need to beat around the bush, here, Kate
,” my father told my mother as he decided to continue the tale. “The thing is, Carol, during those awful first months in Angola I had a lot of problems making new friends. Everybody was afraid of everybody. Nobody trusted newcomers, either. The few foreigners I met all had families and kept to themselves. Then, during a particularly tough negotiation with some French businessmen, I met this very interesting man named Jean-Paul Morgaut. We hit off from the start. We had a very similar sense of humor and almost the same age. He invited me to have dinner at his house. His wife was just as nice and easygoing as he was and we had a blast together. In no time at all, we became inseparable,” my father hesitated for the briefest moment. “I’ll cut to the chase, all right? We became lovers.”

Other than the obvious shocking revelation, s
omething in that story struck a bell somewhere deep in my memory but there were so many different, conflicting emotions in me that I couldn’t make the connection.

“What do you mean, dad? You had an affair with the guy’s wife?”

He blushed and my mother answered in his stead.

“The three of them became
lovers.”

Silence fell in the room. I had a million questions but couldn’t find a single one to
speak up. I looked at Mark for support and he seemed just as dumbfounded.

“Wow. I didn’t see that one coming,” that was the only stupid remark I was able to get out of my numb mind.

“When your mother decided to move to Africa with me I was very relieved. I had convinced myself that situation between me and the Morgauts had gone so far because of my loneliness and that your mother’s presence would set the record straight. The reality was much different, though. The next time I saw Jean-Paul again, I realized nothing had changed, that I was still in love with him, and that I had brought my wife into our messy situation. I talked to him about my doubts and he was very understanding,” my father stopped again and I found my voice to speak.

“Hold on, dad. So, you’re saying you were in love with these people? I thought it was a physical thing.”

“So did I, honey. I came to that conclusion once I had your mother there with me. The craziest thing was, I loved them all equally. I loved different things about each one of them but I came to understand I couldn’t live without any of them. Obviously, it was a slow process and not at all an easy one.”

“Oh, that wasn’t pretty, either,” my mother added, laughing. “It didn’t take me too long to understand what was going on. They thought they were discreet but it was an illusion they had created in their heads. At least for me, it was obvious there was more than only friendship between them. I confronted your father and he denied. I
watched them closely and gathered enough evidence to make my case. Finally, your father admitted he had feelings for Jean-Paul and Simone and I was devastated. I thought our marriage had ended. I went to our room and started packing.”

“That was a wake-up call for me. I couldn’t let you
r mother go. I couldn’t let Jean-Paul and Simone go, either. I made a proposition that almost got me killed,” he was actually laughing at the memories. So was my mother.

“Oh, dear!
When you suggested we could all be together, the four of us, I threw half of the bedroom furniture at you, didn’t I?”

“You only spared the things you weren’t able to hurl at me.
I was pretty hurt.”

Watching them talk like that, sitting across from me, so serene and nonchalant, one would say they were discussing the weather instead of shaking each and every foundation that had been left standing in my already partly destroyed world. I dreaded where this whole conversation was going. I was afraid to ask anything so I stayed
silent. Mark had put an arm around my shoulders and was holding me close to him. It was such a tender way of showing me his support that I wanted to cry. I patted his thighs and smiled into his warm eyes acknowledging my gratitude.

“Because I didn’t want to lose your mom I decided I needed to make her an active part of my new lifestyle. I talked to the
Morgauts and they agreed that was our only option. I suggested Jean-Paul seduced Kate so that she would understand my own position better. To my surprise, Simone volunteered for the task saying your mother would probably trust her more. Again, we don’t want to overwhelm you with all the details. Suffice it to say, we managed to win your mother over and the four of us moved in together.”

“It was wonderful. I had never imagine
d I could be that happy,” my mother intervened. “On the other hand, we thought you were too young to understand our arrangement. Later on, we were ashamed of some of the things we used to do together. We didn’t want to bring you into that world. So, we led a double life. We had a happy life with Jean-Paul and Simone in Africa, but we felt like our hearts had stayed here with you. When we came to visit you, we missed them like crazy. They didn’t have children, so they didn’t go through the same dilemma. In fact, they used to beg us to let them come to the America to meet you but we were never able to agree on that.”

“They eventually came to Boston,” my father picked up the narrative when my mother stopped. “But you were living in New York, by then. You never met. I kind of regret it now because I’m sure you would have liked them and I know they loved you, even from afar. They knew everything about you.”

“Oh, my god!” I shouted when that bell rang again in my head and I finally made the connection. I
had
met Jean-Paul. “I met this Jean-Paul guy. Now I remember.”

“No, sweetie. You’ve never met,” my mother was adamant.

“Yes, mom. Just yesterday. He was at the bar at Club Desire. He told me I looked like you, then, he introduced himself to me. He told me his full name. I’m positive.”

They looked at each other, then, at me and their eyes were misty.

“This is impossible, honey,” my father addressed me but he was looking into my mom’s eyes and holding her like she was made of glass or something. “Jean-Paul died a few months ago in a plane crash.”

* * * *

CHAPTER 7

“Right about the time Iris Pinkman got sick,” my father continued. “We were so devastated we didn’t get to tell you about her getting sick. I’m sorry.”

That was all too much information for me to process. I looked at my father, then, at my mother. I definitely didn’t believe my ears.

“Dad, I’m not crazy. I know what I saw. I saw this guy and he talked to me. I noticed he had a strong French accent. He was about your age and he knew mom’s name. He was tall, slender and dark-haired.”

Once more, my parents looked at each other. They had always had th
at annoying habit of talking without saying a word. For outsiders, like myself, the way they could communicate was uncanny. My father opened his wallet and showed a picture of a very handsome dark-haired man. It was the same guy I had seen at Club Desire.

“That’s him, dad. He was older, obviously, but I’m sure it was the same man.”

“Babe, you know on my side of the family there are descends from Salem witches, right?” my father asked me. “Some people in our family are capable of interacting with spirits. I mean, seeing and talking to them. I think you’ve got the gift. It’s only one of the things we can do, you know?”

“What the Hell are you talking about, dad? Are you saying witches
exist? Do you think we are witches?” I laughed bitterly. “Oh, God! I can’t believe this shit!”

“
How do you explain what you saw yesterday? Or your absurdly high success rate in the stock market? Sheer luck? How long has your luck endured?”

My brain shut down and I drew a blank then.

“Carol, you’ve got to admit you’ve done some pretty crazy stuff at the stock market. You told me yourself, you don’t know exactly how your instincts work when you’re buying and selling. What your father just said kind of makes sense, don’t you think?”

I shook my head, looked at the three of them, opened my mouth to speak but no sound came out.

“Honey, we know this is a lot for you to take in. You’ll need time,” my mother said. There’s just one more thing we wanted to tell you and then we’ll be on our way. Jean-Paul died in that crash when Iris got sick. Like your father said, we were devastated. We flew to France to check on Simone. She was brokenhearted. We had intended to cheer her up with our visit but we came home feeling depressed. That’s why we didn’t get to talk to you about Iris’s sickness. Simone never recovered from losing her husband and she committed suicide on the same day Iris died. I know it’s no excuse for not calling you about her funeral. And, you had your reasons for being upset with me but, please, sweetie, take all this story into consideration. Put yourself in our shoes and find it in your heart to forgive us.”

“
Take all the time you need, Carol,” my father added when my mom’s voice broke off. “We don’t expect you to forget all those years of hurting and of loneliness just like that. But try to see things from our point of view.”

I managed only to nod
. I stared at them as if I were seeing my parents for the very first time. They were not the people I had thought they were and it was a horrible sensation. All that conversation I had had with Bob on my last visit was starting to make some sense. He must have heard my parents talking to these Morgaut couple and he certainly had met them when they visited Boston. He was right – that story was not something I should have heard from him. I needed to hear that from my parents. Now, I wasn’t so sure I liked having heard it at all.

The awkward silence seemed to stretch forever. I was still unable to speak and my parents were uncomfortably sitting across from Mark and I.
Shaking my head, I made an effort to snap out of that trancelike state I had fallen into.

“I promise I’ll do that
, dad. But, I’ll need some time.”

“You take all the time in the world, honey,” there was real relief in his voice.

My father stood up and came to stand in front of me. He stretched out both arms to me and held my hands. He pulled me up and said the last thing I would have expected to hear from my distant father.

“Now, do you think I get a hug from my favorite daughter?”

In a flash, decades vanished and I was a little girl again laughing at one of my dad’s most frequent jokes. Being an only child made it all the more hilarious to be called ‘his favorite daughter’. I threw myself in his arms and he held me so tight it was hard to breath but I didn’t complain. I had missed him so badly all those years he had lived abroad and my pride had prevented me from seeking his embrace when he returned home. Now, I could enjoy that old feeling of safety my dad used to give me whenever he held me in his arms.

I heard loud sniffling coming from the couch and
suspected it was my mother. When I pulled away from my father, I confirmed my suspicion. I walked up to her and before I could ask her a hug I found myself surrounded by her soft arms and sweet perfume – just like I remembered I used to be as a child.

My father cleared his throat but his voice sounded a little strange when he spoke.

“Kate, we’d better get going. There’s still a long drive ahead of us until we get home.”

“Yes, dear. You’re right. We’d better
get going,” my mom let go of me and turned to get her purse. I walked them to the door and we said goodbye.

I returned to the living room and
slumped on the couch. I stared ahead but I didn’t see anything. I was aware Mark was there but I couldn’t gather my wits to say or do anything. I was numb. I saw him sitting beside me and I registered his arms around me. I even felt him lifting my limp body and sitting me across his lap. I rested my head on his shoulder. I only noticed my tears when he kissed my temples and whispered softly in my ear.

“It’s OK to cry, honey. Let it go.
I’m here for you.”

All of a sudden,
my heart was made of lead and sunk inside my chest. I couldn’t breathe, so, I cried into his neck and crushed his shirt in my fists. My whole body shook with the wrenching sobs coming from deep within me. Mark just caressed my back, kissed my hair and lulled me into sleep.

* * * *

Somewhere in
the middle of that haze of painful, sad memories and weird, appalling new facts, my mind focused on the present again. I opened my eyes. I was in bed, Mark was watching over me. His tenderness was disconcerting. I sat up and cupped his cheeks in my hands, staring into the most amazing emerald eyes I had ever seen.

“After all I’ve done to you. After everything you’ve
said to me earlier. You stayed and you watched over me. Why?”

“I love you, Carol. That hasn’t changed. I was hurt
earlier. No, strike that. I
am
hurt but I still feel the same about you. I know we’ll have many things to sort out but your parents’ story renewed my hopes. If they found a way to be happy, so can we. Maybe now you’ll overcome your commitment issues, huh?”

I wasn’t so sure my attraction to Cindy had anything to do with my fear of commitment but Mark didn’t know all the facts.
It was better to leave it at that until I could figure those feelings out by myself. Still, his devotion puzzled me. After all, I had been so mean to him. I had underestimated his feelings for me. I had humiliated him and even spanked him in the bedroom so many times when we were role-playing.

“How can you love me? You know damn well I’ve got a mean dark side.
How can you love my dark side?”

“You
’re so much more than that, Carol. Besides, I too have a dark side. Nobody is perfect. You’ve got to stop expecting perfection from people, especially from yourself,” he stopped as if to give me time for his words to sink in.

When I didn’t reply, he continued. “
I love everything about you – dark side included. Believe me when I say you’re loveable. You deserve love.”

I stared at him and still said nothing
for a while. “After that weird story my parents told us, it’s too hard for me to think straight, let alone analyze love, my feelings, your feelings. It’s just too much. I’m sorry.”

“Just know this – I’m not going anywhere, even if you tell me to. I won’t give up on us and I won’t walk away from you. What we have together
is worth fighting for.”

“Oh, Mark, I don’t know that it’s worth it.
I mean, I’m not sure I’m good for you. You’re a great guy, you deserve better than a messed-up, bossy bitch like me.”

“Don’t say that. It’s your
demons talking, your fears. Forget the past. It’s over and done with. This is worth it, you know that it’s worth it. Don’t run away from the possibilities.”

“I don’t know how I feel, Mark.”

“Call me crazy but I think you should talk to this other guy and see if your feelings for him go deeper than sexual attraction. Come clean with him, too. Ask him about his feelings for you. Have you done that yet?”

“No
,” I admitted, although, I didn’t add that I had never thought about doing so. It wasn’t a bad idea, though. “I’ll think about it.”

He kissed my lips very tenderly before asking, “Would you like me to stay a while? To keep you company?”

“If you don’t mind.”

“Mind? I thought you’d never agree,” he laughed and pushed me playfully. “Now, scoot over and give me some room
, will you? This bed is big enough for three people but you’ve taken up most of the space.”

We lay there, in each other’s arms, not talking. Words were not necessary. Sometimes, they can get in the way. I let my bruised heart bask in Mark’s
warmth and loving care. For the first time in my adult life, I allowed myself to hope for a stable relationship – just like Mark was offering me.

“What about Cindy?” that pesky voice sounded in my head ag
ain. I squinched my eyes shut and tried to sleep.

We got up around five in the afternoon, had something to eat and Mark decided to go home so that I could think things over. I tried but my thoughts were scattered all over the place. So, I phoned Dave in London.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Dave. It’s me.”

“Hey, sweetie. What’s wrong?” he had always known me too well.

“There’s so much I need to tell you, Dave. Do you have time?”

“I’d make time for you if I didn’t have it, freckles. Shoot!”

I told
him everything about Cindy, Mark and my parents. He listened quietly for the most part, asking for details at some points. When I finished telling him my story, I asked my best friend in the world, “What should I do, honey?”

“Well, you’ve already talked to Mark, now, I think you should
talk to Cindy. You said she’s young. She seems a lot like you. Maybe she just wants to have fun for a while and hasn’t even considered a long-term relationship. You’ll never know until you’ve asked. Besides, you’re not getting any younger.”

“
Tell me about it! My thirtieth birthday is just around the corner.”

“Exactly.
Now, I’ll let in on a little secret. I ran from Jerry for years before I decided he was the only one for me. In fact, I knew that, I just wouldn’t admit it.”

“You think it’s a secret, my friend? Everyone knew it!
Most of all, Jerry.” I laughed remembering all the times I had listened to Jerry telling me how hurt he was that Dave pretended not to care.

“OK
, that’s not the issue here. You are the issue, missy. You need to be honest with yourself first. Keep an open mind. Get to know this Cindy better. Invite her out and imagine yourself with her in five or ten years. Have you ever done this with Mark? Have you asked yourself if you’d like to be with him in the long run?”

I considered that possibility for the first time and the answer surprised me. “No and yes. I mean, I had never asked myself that, but now that
I did, I’d love to spend my future with him. Funny, huh?”

“You’ve probably been considering that without even noticing it.”

“Well, maybe that’s my answer, Dave. I don’t even need to talk with Cindy about anything.”

“Honey, I told you to keep an open mind. Now, if you are attracted to her, you’ll need to get to the bottom of it. How can you be with Mark when you want to be with someone else instead?”

That got me thinking for a while. Then, a thought popped up in my head. A possible answer for Dave’s question. Only it was so outrageous I wasn’t ready to consider it seriously. I put it aside, sent it to the back of my mind, telling myself I’d think about it some other day.

“Carol, honey, are you there? What’s wrong?”

“I’m sorry, Dave. Your question got me thinking for a minute, that’s all.”

We talked for some more minutes. He told me about Jerry’s progress in the research he had been conducting at the children’s hospital. He also told me about his author’s block.

“Oh, that’s probably for the best, anyway. Nobody likes your dull stories,” I joked and we laughed hard.

That was a big fat lie. Dave was a great author. All his fantasy novels had been on the New York Times bestsellers lists for
weeks over the last ten years or so. I was very proud of him.