Bygones (6 page)

“Oh, yeah?
Randy said you were playing “Homecoming’ when he got home last night.”

“Good heavens. Have I no privacy at all?”

The two of them moved to the apartment door.

“Think about it, Mom-Dad and you together again. Take it from me. Old Keith the ragman is not for you.”

“Lisa, you’re being intentionally outrageous.”

“Yeah, well, think about it was all I said.”

Lisa popped a kiss on her mother’s mouth.

“Hey, see you Saturday night.”

Bess headed for her car. She had totally lost her earlier melancholy: Lisa truly had a gift for making people laugh at their own foibles. Not that she, Bess, had any intention of reviving anything between herself and Michael. Anyway, there was Keith to consider.

The thought of Keith brought a frown: he wasn’t going to be pleased about her breaking their date Saturday might. She called him the moment she got home.

“What’s up?” he asked.

“Keith, I’m really sorry, but I’m going to have to cancel our dinner date Saturday night. The
Padgetts
are having a dinner at their house so both sides of the family can meet.”

“Didn’t anyone ask you if you were busy?”

“Everyone else was able to make it. I hardly thought I could ask them to delay it for me alone.”

“I suppose your ex will be there?”

Bess massaged her forehead.
“Oh, Keith.”

“Well, won’t he?”

“Yes, he will.”
 

“Oh, fine!
Just fine!”
Keith shouted into the phone.

“For heaven’s sake, it’s our daughter’s wedding. I can’t very well avoid him.”

“No, of course you can’t!” Keith snapped.

“Well, when you have time for me, Bess, give me a call.”

“Keith, wait-was “No. Don’t worry about me. Just do what you have to do with Michael. I understand.”

When she’d hung up, Bess rubbed her eyes.

Sometimes Keith could be so insufferably childish. Once again, she wondered why she continued seeing him. It would probably be best for both of them if she broke it off entirely.

Chapter Four
 

SATURDAY night Bess took pains with her hair. It was nearly shoulder length, and she curled it only enough to give it lift so that it billowed out behind her ears. Her makeup was subtle but applied with extreme care. The results enlarged her brown eyes and plumped her lips. She stared at her reflection n the mirror.

Unquestionably, she wanted to impress Michael tonight: there was an element of pride involved. Toward the end of their marriage, when she’d been caught up in the rigors of studying for her degree and maintaining a family, he had said during one of their fights, “Look at you-you don’t even take care of yourself anymore. All you ever wear is jeans and sweatshirts, and your hair hangs in strings. You didn’t look like that when I married you!”

How his accusation had stung. She’d been
comburning
the candle at both ends trying to achieve something for
herself
, but he’d failed to recognize that her output of time meant some cuts were necessary. So her hair had gone uncurled and she’d forsaken makeup.

At the end of a school day, she’d come home to face studying and housework. He’d been raised in a traditional household whose men didn’t peel potatoes or run a vacuum cleaner, and when she suggested that he try these, he’d suggested she take fewer credits and resume the duties she’d agreed to do when they got married.

His narrow-mindedness had enraged her, and her lack of attention to herself and to the house eventually drove him out. He found a woman at his company, with beautiful curled tresses, who wore Pierre Cardin suits to work every day, and brought him coffee and dialed his clients for him.

Had Michael simply left, Bess might have maintained a speaking relationship with him. But he’d left her for another woman-and a stunning beauty at that. The realization had galled Bess ever since.

After she’d gotten her degree, one of the first things she did was to lay out three hundred dollars for a professional beauty make-over. She’d learned what colors and styles of clothing suited her best and what shades of makeup to wear. She’d had her hair color changed from muskrat brown to tawny blond, and kept her fingernails meticulously polished in a hue that matched her lipstick. When Michael Curran got a load of her tonight, there’d be no grease on her jabot and no hair out of place.

She chose a red-and-black dinner suit with a straight skirt, and with it she wore oversized gold earrings that drew attention to her hair and her rather dramatic
jawline
. When the suit jacket was buttoned, she turned to view herself in the mirror, and she was satisfied with her efforts at grooming.

She switched out her bedroom light and went down two flights to Randy’s room.

When he was sixteen, he’d chosen to hole up in an unfinished room on the walkout level because it was twice as large as the upstairs bedrooms. His drums filled one corner, his prized set of Pearls-twelve pieces of gleaming stainless steel.

The two concrete block walls behind the drums were painted black. Fanned on one were posters of his idols, Bon
Jovi
and Motley
Crue
. One of the two remaining walls was white; the other, covered with corkboard, was I hung with pictures of old girlfriends, band schedules, and prom garters. There was a compact disc player, a television, and a VCR. Among all these, the water bed-sporting disheveled leopard sheets-seemed almost incidental.

When Bess came to the door, a Paula Abdul song was blasting from the CD player, and Randy was standing before his dresser adjusting the knot in a skinny gray leather tie. He was dressed in baggy, pleated trousers, a silvery-gray sport coat, and a plaid shirt in muted purple, gray, and white. Though he’d had his hair cut as promised, it still hung to his collar in natural ringlets.

Coming upon Randy looking spiffy for once brought a catch to Bess’s heart. He was so good-looking, and bright, and charming when he wanted to be, but the path of resistance he’d chosen to take had put so many obstacles between them.

She went to the CD player and turned it down.

Randy’s eyes scanned her outfit.
“
Lookin
’ vicious, Mom.”

“Thank you. So are you.
New clothes?”
She touched his tie.

“It’s a hot deal-the elder sister tying the big knot.”

“Listen, I thought we could take my car and ride over together.”

“Yeah, sure, whatever you say.”

She let him drive, deriving a secret pleasure from being escorted by her full-grown son.

The ride led them through snow-covered countryside. As they were approaching the city of
White Bear Lake
, Randy said, “That’s where the old man lives-in those condos.”

Bess caught a glimpse of lights, tall trees, and an imposing building she’d often admired when driving past.

“How do you know?”

“Lisa told me.”

The
Padgetts
lived on the west side of town in a residential neighborhood. Randy found the house, and they rang the bell.

Mark and Lisa answered, followed by a short, brown-haired woman shaped like a chest of drawers. She had a smile that dimpled her cheeks and made her eyes all but disappear. Mark said simply, “This is my mom,
Hildy
.”

And Lisa said, “This is my mom, Bess, and my brother, Randy.”

“Glad to meet you,”
Hildy
Padgett said.

They were joined by Mark’s father, Jake-straight, tall, thin haired, and smiling.

Bess liked the
Padgetts
immediately.

The living room stretched off to the left, filled with people. Standing near the door to the dining room was Michael Curran.

Michael had watched Bess come in followed by Randy, looking surprisingly tall in an outsized overcoat with baggy shoulders and a turned-up collar.

Lord, Randy had grown up! The last time Michael had seen him was at a distance in a busy shopping center nearly three years ago. When Randy had spied him, the boy had done a brusque right face, disappearing into a store. Now here he-was, taller than his mother and shockingly
goodlooking
. Michael felt a paternal thrill at the sight of that dark hair so much like his own. He watched Randy shaking hands, giving up his overcoat. Finally Randy’s eyes found Michael’s, and the smile dropped from his mouth.

Michael felt his chest constrict as the past rushed forth to polarize them both. How simple, Michael thought, to cross the room, speak his name, embrace this young man who as a boy had idolized his father, had followed beside him when he mowed the lawn and said, “Daddy, can I help?”

But Michael could not move. He could only stand there with a lump in his throat, trapped by his own mistaken past.

Bess moved into Michael’s line of vision. Her admonitions the other night at Lisa’s rang clearly in his head: Randy needs a father. Be one to him.
But how?

There were four other Padgett children, younger than Mark, and a grandmother and grandfather, all requiring introductions that seemed to shift people like fog. Bess shook hands with one after another and eventually reached her ex-husband.

“Hello, Michael,” she said.

“Hello, Bess.”

They trained their eyes on the people in the room, avoiding the risk of lingering glances. Covertly he assessed her clothes, hair, nails-mercy, had she changed.
As much as Randy, if not more.
Bess said, “Randy’s grown up, hasn’t he?”

“Has he ever. I couldn’t believe it was him.”

“Are you going to talk to him?”

 
“You think he’d talk to me?”

“You can give it a try.”

Hildy
Padgett came from the kitchen with a tray of canap6’s. Jake Padgett was passing around cups of mulled cider. Randy stood across the room with his hands in his trouser pockets,
glancing
I occasionally at his father but determinedly keeping his distance.

One of them had to make the move.

It required a heroic effort, but Michael took the risk.

He crossed the room and said, “Hello, Randy.”

Randy said, “Yeah,” his eyes casting about beyond Michael’s shoulder. “I wasn’t sure it was you, you got so tall.”

“Yeah, well, that happens, you know.”

“How have you been?”

Randy shrugged, still avoiding his father’s eyes.

“Your mother tells me you’re still working in a warehouse. Do you like it?”

“What’s to like? It’s just something to do till I get in with a band.”

“A band?”

“Yeah, drums-with a band, you know?”

“You pretty good?”

For the first time, Randy looked squarely into Michael’s eyes. “Spare me,” he said, and walked away.

Michael’s stomach felt as if he’d leaped off a second-story roof. He watched Randy move off, then glanced over at Bess and found her watching. She’s right. I’m a failure as a father.

Hildy
Padgett came in and announced dinner.

In the dining room, Michael and Bess were directed to seat themselves side by side at one end of the table, while
Hildy
and Jake presided at the opposite end. Mark and Lisa took chairs in the center of one long side, and the others were staggered around.

As Michael pulled out Bess’s chair, he caught Randy watching sourly from diagonally across the table. In an undertone he said to Bess, “I don’t think Randy likes seeing me with you.”

“Probably not,” she replied. “On the other hand, Lisa seems overjoyed. I’ve assured them both it’s all for appearances. So let’s see if we can’t keep up the charade for our children’s sake.”

A platter of ham was passed around, followed by vegetables, warm rolls, and salad. Bess watched Michael load his plate with au gratin potatoes and said, “
Hildy
really hit you in the taste buds, didn’t she?”

“
Mmm
. . . I still love ‘
em
.”

He always had. Her mother used to say, “That Michael is fun to cook for. He knows how to eat.”

“Did you have that talk with Lisa?” he asked.

“Yes, I did. I went over to her apartment the next night.”

“Do you feel better now?”

“Yes.
Infinitely.”

“It’s hard to believe she’s old enough, isn’t it?” he said.

“Yes. It seems like only yesterday we had her.”

“Randy, too.”

“I know.”

“My guess is he’s watching us right now and wondering what’s going on down here.”

“Is something going on down here?”

He shocked her by replying, “You look great tonight, Bess.”

She flushed. “Oh, for heaven’s sake, Michael, that’s absurd.”