Eyes of a Child (10 page)

‘
Carlo
,' she would shriek, and run through the house to find him. The boy reacted with amusement and chagrin; his charm, he remarked to Terri, was sure to end at kindergarten.

‘I'm not so sure.' Terri smiled. ‘As far as Elena's concerned, you've got it all – no wrinkles, money to buy ice cream, and plenty of time to play.'

‘Rrright . . .'

But Carlo was indulgent with her. He carried Elena on his shoulders; let her win at Blockhead; introduced her to the friends who kept dropping by to shoot pool. Once, Carlo and his red-haired girlfriend, Katie, had read Elena stories; Elena had cast a proprietary eye at Katie and positioned herself in Carlo's lap.

‘I'm going to marry Carlo,' Elena announced to Katie. ‘When I'm twelve.'

Carlo checked his watch. ‘In exactly five hundred seven thousand, one hundred thirteen hours and eighteen minutes,' he told Katie, ‘your time is up.'

That was enough for Elena. And the next weekend, on an afternoon when Carlo seemed particularly tolerant, he walked her to the park near Chris's house. Terri watched them go, a tall, handsome boy in a baseball cap with a raven-haired child who came to his waist but insisted on holding his hand. Unlike Terri, and perhaps Chris, Carlo seemed to make her forget how angry she was.

Closing the door, Terri decided that this was a blessing. For Elena – when she wasn't listless – was so angry that she seemed out of Terri's reach.

At first, this anger seemed sporadic, the fruits of a bitter separation. There were times when the child seemed wholly engaged in her favorite activities: pounding on the electric keyboard; painting with watercolors at Terri's apartment; climbing playground structures so fearlessly that only the joy in her face stopped Terri from coaxing the child down to safety. Terri had quick reflexes and unusually fast hands: Elena shared these gifts, delighted in playing jacks with her mother, snatching the metal pieces before the rubber ball bounced twice. But at other times, the normally spirited little girl would become recalcitrant, ignoring her mother or throwing toys; telling Terri that she hated her apartment; demanding to call her father so that he would not be lonely. Whether spoken or silent, the message was the same – the divorce was Terri's fault.

‘You hug and kiss Chris now,' Elena said flatly.

They were tye-dyeing T-shirts at the kitchen sink; Terri had thought it a happy day. She searched her memory of the time since the separation for some slip in Elena's presence, found none. ‘How do you know that?'

‘Daddy told me.' The child's voice was accusatory. ‘He's all alone.'

For a moment, Terri found herself so angry that she wanted to scream, What about
me –
the one who loves you and pays his bills and works until I can't see straight. ‘Chris is my friend, Elena. He's nice to me.' She paused and then asked, ‘Don't you think I deserve
someone
to be nice to me?'

Elena frowned.
‘I'm
nice to Daddy,' she said, and put down her T-shirt. ‘I'm bored with this.'

That night, when Elena had gone, Terri called Richie. ‘What are you telling her about Chris?' she asked.

‘Why is everything always “about Chris”?' His voice was mock innocent. ‘What makes you think I even care?'

‘Whether or not you care, we need to get this straight.'

‘We already did,' he said. ‘In court. Anyway, can't talk now – we're playing Blockhead.' His voice grew silken. ‘You know, the game that Carlo likes so much.'

He hung up.

Terri waited until ten and drove to Richie's.

Elena answered the door. Surprised, Terri bent to hug her. ‘It's your bedtime, sweetheart.'

The little girl pushed her away. ‘It's
not.
Daddy said there was no bedtime tonight.'

Walking past Elena, Terri saw Richie in the living room, an empty bottle of wine in front of him, candles on the coffee table. Instinctively, Terri looked for a second adult, then perceived from Richie's flush that he had drunk the bottle alone. For an instant he looked cornered, and then his eyes took on a strange glitter. ‘We've stayed up playing games,' he said. ‘Just like you, Terri. Coming here.'

The words had a sibilant hiss; their overprecision reminded Terri of Ramon Peralta.

Without answering, she picked up Elena and tucked her in bed, read her stories until it seemed the little girl was asleep. But as Terri left, Elena whispered, ‘Can you stay, Mommy? I like it when you're here.'

When Terri at last went to find Richie, the living room lights were off. That and the smell of wine gave Terri the trapped, eerie feeling of her childhood: a man sitting alone in the darkness, ready to explode.

‘Miss me, Ter?' Richie's voice from the darkness was slurred and insinuating. ‘We're all alone now, and Christopher Paget's nowhere in sight. Just the way it should be.'

She forced herself to face him. ‘If you ever do this around Elena,' she said softly, ‘I'll kill you myself.'

Terri turned and walked out. She did not know whether she had only imagined Richie laughing as the door shut.

Chapter
9

‘He doesn't drink,' she told Chris the next day. ‘At least not much.'

They sat in his office. ‘Maybe he's beginning to unravel,' Chris answered. ‘I'd start keeping a journal. Everything Richie does.'

‘Assuming anyone will believe me.' She paused. ‘Elena's not right, Chris. I may go back to Alec Keene.'

Chris nodded. ‘I think you should.'

As Terri stood to leave, he raised a hand to stop her. ‘Have another minute?' he asked. ‘There's something I need to talk to you about.'

His tone was somehow different. Slowly, Terri sat again, watching his face.

Chris folded his hands. ‘I've been asked to consider running for the Senate, Terri. In the Democratic primary, two years from now.'

It startled her. ‘As in
United States
Senate?'

Chris nodded. ‘Amazing, isn't it. “The Decline of the West.”'

‘That's not what I meant, Chris. I'm just surprised, that's all.'

‘So was I.' Chris was trying to make this sound like a mere curiosity. ‘When Wally Mathews called, I thought he wanted money again. Instead he wanted
me
, for whatever reason.'

She was quiet for a time. ‘You might be good, Chris.'

‘So Wally claims,' he said dryly. ‘According to him, I'm famous twice over – for the Lasko case and for the Carelli hearing. He also pointed out that winning the primary would cost at least seven million dollars and that I happen to have it. Wonderful system, isn't it.' His voice became a shade less casual. ‘Part of it is that some people want a senatorial candidate who hasn't been handpicked by James Colt, Junior. Our inevitable next govenor.'

Once more, Terri felt surprise and a little unease. James Colt was a prominent Democrat of about Chris's age: besides his vast wealth and ambition, one reason for his power was public veneration for his father, a charismatic senator from southern California who had died before he could run for President. Most local politicians, including the ambitious district attorney, McKinley Brooks, were already allied with Colt; it would not be easy for Chris to build support.

‘What reason,' Terri asked, ‘does Wally give for wanting someone independent of Colt?'

Chris shrugged. ‘The same reason a lot of party people give, under their breath. That beneath his public charm, James Colt is as mean as a snake and utterly devoid of principle. Wally thinks that I could be a counterweight.'

Why, Terri thought, did she feel a sense of loss and apprehension? She and Chris had never discussed the future and, until the court awarded final custody of Elena, could not consider living together even if they wanted to. ‘And you're thinking about it,' she ventured.

‘To my surprise. After Lasko ended, I wanted nothing more to do with politics. But when Wally called, I realized that there are things I'd like to say, and this may be a last chance to say them in any way that matters,' Chris turned to the window. ‘At my age, you start to ask yourself what it's all meant. My answer has always been Carlo. But outside of that, I really don't know. And in two years, Carlo leaves for college.'

‘How does
he
feel about this?'

‘Carlo claims to be all for it, although I worry about being gone too much. Another part is us.' He turned back to her. ‘James Colt will not be thrilled, and politics can be pretty savage. Even when it's not, it tends to eat up lives.'

Something told Terri that she did not wish Chris to do this. But she did not know what Chris might want for them, or where his self-interest ended and hers began; until the final custody hearing, there was no point in imagining their future. ‘It might be nice for you to have a hobby,' she said with a smile. ‘It's just that I worry about Richie, all right? He's jealous of you, Chris.'

‘
Richie?
What can
he
do to me?' Chris seemed to watch her for a moment, and then changed the subject. ‘Whatever Richie does when he has Elena,' he told her, ‘don't save him, and don't cover for him. Without your help, he may start screwing up Elena's life in a way that other people notice.' His voice turned cool and clear. ‘No matter how painful, let him. Because Elena will end up with you.'

This, Terri knew, was the best advice Chris could give. But the mother in Terri found it hard to follow.

Perhaps Richie knew that she could not help but salvage him if Elena was at risk. When Richie suddenly ‘gave up' the old apartment because he had stopped paying rent, he had let her know that he was looking in neighborhoods Terri knew to be unsafe; after a week of this, Terri found them another apartment in the city, so that Elena would be closer, and when the landlord balked at Richie's credit, Terri cosigned the lease. She hated herself for it, just as – in the twisted logic of a custody battle – she despised herself for finding Elena the best possible school for kindergarten, once it was clear that Richie would not bother. Richie knew nothing about the school, and did not seem to care. But when Terri dragged him to observe the classroom Elena would enter in the fall, Richie cornered the teacher Leslie Warner, a willowy darkhaired woman with wide-set eyes and a credulous demeanor. In his proud and confiding manner, Richie described to Warner how he ‘participated in Elena's fantasies,' so as to ‘help her imagination come alive'; smiling and nodding, Warner did not take her eyes off Richie. Terri could not stand to watch.

But neither, it seemed, could she truly help Elena.

It was not any one thing, but a series of disturbing changes. Elena, though still defensive of her father, no longer asked whether he and Terri might reconcile. Instead she would sit alone for long listless periods, barely speaking. She would not sleep by herself, began demanding the night-light she had proudly discarded a year before. She complained of stomach-aches. She smiled less, painted less, went to the playground at Terri's suggestion rather than asking to go. When Terri called the school, the teacher said that Elena was polite to her but had made no real friends. Yet Richie claimed to see nothing.

They were standing in her kitchen after Richie had dropped off Elena. ‘She's always fine with me,' he told her. ‘That leaves you and your boyfriend. If you were a little more sensitive, Ter, you'd see that your premature relationship is a form of abuse and give him up.'

Terri controlled her temper. ‘She's been listless at school too. And she used to make friends so easily.'

Richie grimaced. ‘I'll keep an eye out, okay? But Leslie keeps me posted, and I think
you're
the problem. In fact, I think that all you're proving is how right Scatena had it. I don't know why you imagine you can change his mind – especially when you're still screwing Paget.'

Through her anger, Terri heard the reference to ‘Leslie' – dropped, perhaps, to make Terri wonder. It would be just like him, Terri thought; a chance to ingratiate himself with an attractive young woman by playing the anxious father. ‘This isn't a contest, Richie –'

‘You're damn right it isn't.' His voice turned low and angry. ‘I'm broke all the time now – no money for Lawsearch, no nothing. It's a good thing some women like me enough to take me out.' His eyes glinted with resentment. ‘Except for my sex life, you really fucked me over.'

Terri simply stared at him. ‘It's so sad,' she said then. ‘In some ways, you understand me so well. But you don't understand yourself at all. So you'll always end up blaming me for everything that happens to you. All the way to the bottom, taking Elena with you.'

His face changed; it was as if the softness of her voice had drained the anger from him. He sat down at the kitchen table, chin propped in his hands. ‘It just isn't going well, Ter.' His voice fell. ‘It hasn't, ever since you left me.'

His body seemed to slump. For an instant, from some buried instinct of their marriage, Terri wanted to comfort him. ‘I'm sorry,' she said. ‘I want things to be good for you. Really.'

He looked up. ‘For Elena's sake,' he said flatly.

‘For Elena's. For your sake. And for mine.' She paused. ‘If your life is a shambles, nobody wins. I don't want a lifetime of worrying about you or what you'll do to keep afloat.'

He gazed up at her and then looked away. ‘Sometimes, without you, I just feel lost.' His voice fell. ‘Sometimes I feel like things will never be right again.'

Even Richie could not tell, Terri thought with sadness, where his vulnerability became artifice. It was that knowledge that kept her from touching Richie's shoulder. And then, at the instant when she stopped herself, Terri sensed all the unknown ways – planted deep in her subconscious – that she still was Richie's wife.