Kiss Mommy Goodbye (22 page)

Sharon put her arms around Donna’s neck, and Donna hugged her little girl tightly against her body. “Mmm, you’re delicious.”

The little girl laughed. “See? I pooped,” she said proudly, pointing toward the small white bowl.

“Fantastic.”

“It looks like the number nine, Mommy,” Adam said,
also pointing inside the potty. Donna started to laugh. “Next time,” Adam asked with great excitement, “can she make a number four?”

“Number Four. Number Four,” Sharon laughed, clapping, as Donna adjusted her daughter’s sundress, emptied the potty into the toilet and flushed.

Donna walked with the children back into the hallway where Victor now stood waiting. Adam ran into his father’s arms. “Sharon made a number nine! Next time, she’ll make a number four. Four is my favorite number. Yay!”

Donna handed Victor the bag she had packed with the children’s clothes. “There’s some Pampers in there if you need them for Sharon.”

“No Pamper,” Sharon insisted.

“She hasn’t had an accident in three days,” Donna continued.

“Terrific,” Victor said, then looked over at Adam. “Quite a switch.”

Donna smiled. “Going anywhere special with them?”

“I thought we might drive over to Lion Country Safari, but it’s so hot, I don’t know. Maybe we’ll just go to the beach. We’ll play it by ear.”

Donna walked them to the door. “Have a good time with Daddy, sweeties,” she said, kneeling down.

“I want to see the lions,” Adam squealed, about to run outside.

“Kiss Mommy goodbye,” Victor admonished.

“Bye,” the young boy said, kissing her quickly on the cheek, then running eagerly outside toward his father’s car.

Donna looked at her daughter, at twenty-two months a chubby little porcelain doll with huge piercing blue eyes
that looked right through you, like a little witch about to cast a spell. Eyes that seemed to see everything, absorb all there was to absorb. Aware. So aware. “You be a good girl with Daddy, and have a good time.”

The little girl threw her arms around her mother’s neck. “Are you coming?” she asked clearly. It was a phrase she had mastered early.

“No, honey. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Victor took Sharon’s arm. “Let’s go, Sharon. The lions are waiting.”

“I want Mommy.”

Victor bent down and scooped the child up in his arms. “See you tomorrow,” he called to Donna as he proceeded down the walkway.

Donna watched them through the door. She watched Adam buckle himself into the back and watched as Victor adjusted Sharon into her special infant seat beside her brother. She was still calling out for Mommy. That was strange, Donna thought, watching the car drive off, and then closing the door against the oppressive heat. Victor had been coming for his children every weekend for the past five months. Today was the first time that Sharon had cried.

“Can’t we have the magician now?” Annie asked from underneath her pink and red striped party hat.

Donna checked her watch. It was just past three o’clock. She knelt down so that she could talk face to face with Mel’s daughter. “Could we wait another hour, honey? Till four? That way Adam and Sharon can see the magician too.”

The young girl’s face lit into a smile. “Oh, I forgot. They
can come!” Donna smiled. “Okay, we’ll wait.”

“We’ll be serving the cake and ice cream in a few minutes,” Donna winked, standing up, feeling her knees crack. “Why do my knees always crack when I try to stand up?” she asked no one in particular.

Her friend Susan Reid provided her with an immediate answer. “Old age,” she said happily.

Donna turned to face her. “Thanks a lot. I’m so glad I invited you over to help me out.”

“What are friends for?”

“I thought most people’s knees cracked when they bent down, not when they stood up.”

“Yeah, well, you were always a bit peculiar. Know any good doctors?”

Donna looked closely at her long-time friend. “Do you ever change?” Susan looked at her quizzically. “I mean, I think that you and I have been exchanging this kind of banal banter since we were sixteen. And don’t get me wrong, I like it. It’s kind of reassuring in a way, knowing that whatever we say, essentially it’s all the same thing. Do you understand?”

“No. You been eating funny cookies?”

Donna laughed, looking over at the fifteen noisy youngsters running about the white ceramic tiled patio. “Look at them all,” she said, “they’re eight years old, maybe nine. Basically, whatever they’re going to be is already there. We get older, but we don’t really change.”

Susan looked from Donna to the crowded patio. “You’re trying to tell me you were a peculiar kid too?”

Donna shook her head. “Let’s serve the cake.”

An hour later, Mel came up behind Donna and put his arms around her waist. “Annie keeps asking me when we
can have the magician. It’s ten after four.”

Donna turned to face him. “Damn. Do you think she can wait for ten, fifteen more minutes? That’s all. I’m sure they’ll be here by then.”

“You’re sure Victor said four o’clock?” Donna nodded. “Could be he’s changed his mind.”

“No, he’d phone if he had. I mean, it was his idea. It’s probably something dumb holding them up. I bet Adam’s on the toilet or something. You know how long Adam can sit on that thing.”

“Maybe you should phone.”

“Ten minutes, okay? If they’re not here in ten minutes, I’ll call them.”

“Okay. I’ll talk to Annie.”

Donna watched Mel as he walked over to talk to his daughter. She smiled with satisfaction. How had she managed to get this lucky? A wonderful man, his terrific kid—and they were both crazy about her. She looked over at the abandoned party table, the young guests having deserted their plates of leftover icing and melted ice cream for the raucous sound of the Village People, a gift to Annie from one of her friends. So this is what they give the eight-year-olds of this world, she thought, looking over at the assortment of records and posters (Kiss, Andy Gibb, a bare-chested Erik Estrada—whoever he was) that Annie’s peers had showered her with. She looked back at Annie, watching Mel surround his daughter with his arms, and smiled as she saw the child agree to wait another ten minutes. Mel hugged her, then walked back toward Donna.

The last five months had been a revelation to Donna. After six years of convincing herself that her relationship
with Victor was symbolic of all relationships, she was constantly amazed to discover that it just wasn’t so. After six years of telling herself that another man would simply mean another set of problems, another armload of idiosyncrasies, she was delighted to discover she had been utterly wrong. There
were
men around who were content to let you dress yourself, feed yourself and even blow your own nose. Not everything was worth a major debate. Not every difference of opinion led to all-out war. If anything, Mel went overboard in the other direction. There were a few things that were very important to him—Annie, his work, herself—and everything else was there to arrange or rearrange for their convenience. Almost nothing was worth fighting about. Fighting was a wasteful activity. Playing mind games was destructive. If something made Donna happy, well, then, that was fine with him. If she felt like Chinese food, great. If she wanted to see three movies in the course of one evening, well, why not? If he didn’t like something, he said so, flat out. There were no guessing games here.

He walked over to Donna and kissed her on the nose. “What are you standing here grinning about?”

“I didn’t think it was supposed to be this easy,” she said.

“What?”

“Love.”

He laughed. Then he checked his watch. “We have eight minutes before you have to make that phone call,” he whispered. “Feel like a quickie?”

Donna laughed. “I love you.”

“Does that mean no quickie?”

She nodded. “We can have a whole bunch of quickies
later on.”

“Umm. Good stuff.” He kissed her nose again. “You have a terrific nose.”

Donna looked toward the door. “I wish they’d get here,” she said anxiously.

After another ten minutes, Donna walked into the kitchen to use the phone. She dialed quickly and waited while the phone rang several times. “Come on, Victor, where are you?” she said to herself, hoping that instead of his voice on the other end of the line, she would hear his brusque knock on the door. The phone made a funny click and a recorded voice suddenly sounded in Donna’s ear.

“I’m sorry, the number you have dialed has been disconnected—”

“Oh, rats,” Donna exclaimed, hanging up the phone just as Mel and Annie walked into the room.

“They’re not coming?” Mel asked.

“No, I dialed the wrong number. ‘I’m sorry, the number you have dialed has been disconnected,’ ” she mimicked.

“Some of the kids have to leave pretty soon,” Mel said.

“Can’t we have the magician now?” pleaded Annie.

Donna took a deep breath. “Sure,” she said. “It’s your party, isn’t it? I don’t know what’s happened to Victor.”

“Go to it!” Mel said, swatting Annie’s behind as she ran from the room. “Sorry, honey, but it’s really not fair to keep them waiting any longer.”

“Oh, that’s fine. Really.” Donna paused. “You don’t think that anything’s happened to them or anything, do you?”

“No, I’m positive nothing’s happened to them. Victor probably took them somewhere for the day and he just
couldn’t get back in time.”

“I guess so.”

“Come on, let’s go see the Amazing Armando.”

At five-thirty, all the junior guests had departed and Annie was busy looking over her newest acquisitions. Mel, Susan and Donna sat in the comfortable space that was Mel’s living room and had a final cocktail.

“Well, I don’t know what to do,” Donna said, obviously worried. “I don’t know whether to stay here and wait for Victor in case he shows up or to go home.”

“What’s the usual set-up?” Susan asked.

“He usually brings the kids back between six and six-thirty.”

“To your place?”

“Oh, yeah. He never comes here.”

“Then why would he start today?”

Donna was beginning to feel vaguely sick to her stomach. “I better get home.”

Mel stood up. “I’ll drive you.”

“No,” Donna said, also standing. “You promised Annie you’d take her to see
Star Wars
tonight, Susan can drive me.”

Susan got to her feet, quickly gulping down the last of her drink, speaking in Mel’s direction. “Sure, I’ll stay with her till Victor brings the kids home.”

After several minutes, Mel reluctantly agreed. “Why don’t you call him before you leave?”

“No!” Donna said, louder than she had intended to. Annie looked over in their direction. “Sorry,” Donna explained, trying to keep her voice calm despite her growing sense of panic. What was she so afraid of? “I just don’t
want to bother him. Things have been going so well lately that I don’t want to spoil them by making Victor think that I’m checking up on him. I don’t want him to think—I mean, he’s changed so much recently—”

“Donna, are you okay?” Mel asked. For a long minute, there was absolute silence.

“People don’t change,” Donna said numbly.

“What are you talking about?” Susan asked.

“People don’t change. I told you that earlier. Victor hasn’t changed.” Donna began to move frantically about in place, her eyes directed at nothing in particular. “My God, he hasn’t changed at all. I know it. I can feel it. Mel, my God, Mel, Victor hasn’t changed at all.”

Susan tried to maneuver Donna back toward the overstuffed beige-and-white sofa. “Come on, Donna, sit down for a minute—”

“No!” Donna pushed Susan away, her eyes still frozen open, seeing only Victor. “Kiss Mommy goodbye,” she heard him say. “No!”

“Leave her alone,” Mel cautioned Susan. Out of the corner of her eye, Donna saw Annie moving toward her father. “I’ll call Victor,” Mel began.

“He won’t be there!” Donna shouted, the horrible fear that had been gnawing all afternoon at the pit of her stomach finally finding words at the tip of her tongue. “He’s gone. I know it, he’s gone. He’s taken my babies—”

“Daddy—” Annie started, a mild whine of fear in her voice.

“Just a minute, honey,” Mel cautioned, turning back to Donna. “Look, Donna, we gain nothing by standing around here worrying about it. Let’s just go find out.”

“Where will we go?”

“To Victor’s.”

“You can’t,” Donna protested irrationally. “You promised Annie you’d take her to see—”

“The fucking movie can wait.” Mel turned to Annie. “That’s right, isn’t it, honey?”

“Sure,” Annie said, a mixture of trepidation and disappointment in her voice. “The fucking movie can wait.”

“That’s my girl,” he said, tussling her hair. “Susan, would you mind staying with Annie till we get back?”

“No problem,” Susan answered, as Mel put his arm through Donna’s and led her out into the front hall. “You’ll call me as soon as you straighten everything out?”

“We’ll call,” he said, opening the front door and leading Donna out into the air of the approaching night.

Donna kept up a steady flow of chatter the entire drive, fearing that if she stopped talking, even for an instant, her worst fears would become an accepted reality.

“He won’t be there, Mel. He’s gone. That number I dialed, it wasn’t the wrong number. I knew it at the time. I knew I hadn’t misdialed, but I wouldn’t let myself believe it. When he didn’t show up at four o’clock, I convinced myself that they still would, that there was plenty of time. I made up all sorts of excuses, when I knew, deep down I knew. I had this sick feeling in my gut. I had it from the middle of the afternoon when I was talking to Susan, telling her that people don’t change. I was trying to tell myself something then, only I wouldn’t listen. Why wouldn’t I listen? I listened to Victor! Christ, I almost had to convince him it was all right for him to take the children for the
weekend. He sounded so genuinely disappointed that the kids wouldn’t get to go to Annie’s party.” Donna took a pause only long enough to swallow her accumulation of saliva. “Why did I believe him? I was married to the man for six years. I remember the things he said to me, that no court of law would ever take his children away, that even if I won the custody suit, I’d lose—that he’d fight me till there was nothing left of me! How could I forget he said those things? How could I forget that he’d already packed up and left one life back in Connecticut? What made me think he wouldn’t do it again?”