The First Time (46 page)

“No,” Viv admitted after a pause. “She told me she was
going
to a party. She didn’t say where.”

“She neglected to mention she was the hostess of this little shindig,” Jake said.

“It was just supposed to be a few kids from school, but apparently some people showed up who hadn’t been invited. Kim asked them to leave, but they refused, and things very quickly went from bad to worse. Kim called the police, but whoever the troublemakers were, they got away before the police arrived. Unfortunately, not before they made quite a mess. The Capilettis have been here since first thing this morning. Most of the damage was to the main floor. You’ll have to check and see if anything is missing.”

“The Falling Man,” Mattie said, referring to the small bronze sculpture by Ernest Trova that used to sit by the piano. “It’s gone.”

“That funny-looking bald guy, looks sort of like an Oscar?” her mother asked, and Mattie nodded. “The police found it outside on the front lawn. I thought it was some kind of elaborate pepper mill, so I put it in the kitchen.”

“You thought it was a pepper mill?” Mattie asked incredulously.

“I never claimed to be an authority on art,” her mother said defensively.

“Where is Kim now?” Jake asked.

“She was going to see Rosemary Colicos after school,” Viv said. “Please don’t be too hard on her, Jake. I know what she did was very wrong, but she’s a
good girl. She really is. She was terribly upset about what happened, and I know she plans to make it up to you. She’s going to get a summer job, pay for everything that isn’t covered by insurance.”

“It’s not a question of money.”

“I know that.” Viv lowered herself carefully into one of the gold-and-rose-striped chairs.
“She
knows that.”

Mattie watched a strip of fabric float across her mother’s lap. She’d been meaning to get those chairs re-covered for some time now, Mattie thought absently.

“So, how was your trip?” her mother asked, as if this were a perfectly normal thing to be asking under the circumstances, as if there were nothing odd or unusual about the situation, as if everyone returned home prematurely from a trip abroad to find their house in ruins.

“The trip?” Mattie repeated numbly. “The trip was wonderful.”

“How was the weather?”

“The weather was great.”

“Except for yesterday,” Mattie heard Jake say. “It rained pretty hard yesterday.”

“Yes, it did,” Mattie agreed.

“And you saw everything you wanted to see?”

“We didn’t miss much,” Jake answered.

“You had no trouble getting around?”

“No trouble at all,” Jake said, staring at Mattie, who was staring straight ahead, at the empty space where the Trova used to sit. “Mattie, are you all right?”

“She thought it was a pepper mill,” Mattie said, the
absurdity of her homecoming hitting her with such force she could barely breathe.

And suddenly Mattie was laughing, laughing with such abandon, she felt her sides would split wide open. And Jake was laughing with her. And even her mother, who seemed incomplete somehow without at least one of her beloved dogs at her feet, was laughing, although the guarded look on her face told Mattie she wasn’t quite sure what was so damn funny.

“Maybe you should go upstairs and lie down,” her mother was saying. “It wasn’t too much of a mess up there, but I changed the sheets on your bed, just in case. Really, I think you need to rest,” she continued over Mattie’s and Jake’s raucous laughter. “The Capilettis and I will take care of things down here. You can call your insurance guy in the morning. I’ll keep Kim with me tonight.”

“Thank you,” Mattie managed to squeak out between hoots.

“Tell Kim I’ll be picking her up after school tomorrow,” Jake said, as their laughter faded away. “And tell her we love her,” he added softly, helping Mattie to her feet.

Viv nodded, pushing herself off the chair.

“Mom?” Mattie’s voice stopped her mother before she reached the hall.

“Yes, Martha?”

“Thank you,” Mattie told her. “It means a great deal to me, knowing I can count on you.”

Mattie watched her mother’s shoulders stiffen. Viv nodded without speaking, and left the room.

•   •   •

Mattie was upstairs resting, stretched out on top of her bed, when she heard the front door open and close, heard footsteps on the stairs, saw Kim in the doorway. Kim was wearing a zippered yellow sweatshirt over faded blue jeans, and as usual, the mere sight of her unspoiled beauty made Mattie’s heart sing. Sweet little Miss Grundy, Mattie thought. Does she have even the slightest idea how beautiful she is? “Hi,” Mattie said simply.

She’d been rehearsing this moment ever since Jake left her side to pick Kim up at school, adjusting, then readjusting her position on the bed, trying to find a suitable compromise between stiff-backed and casual, her voice seeking a balance between stern and loving, as she tried out numerous approaches for confronting her daughter, hearing all her efforts evaporate with the single word, “Hi.”

“How are you?” Kim’s voice trembled into the space between them. She tucked some imaginary stray hairs behind her ears, looked toward the floor.

“I’m okay. Lisa’s coming by tonight to check me over. What about you?”

Kim shrugged as Jake walked into the room. “I’m okay.”

Mattie patted the space beside her on the bed. “Why don’t you sit down?”

Kim looked from Mattie to her father, as if she weren’t sure for whom the invitation was intended, then looked back at Mattie, shook her head, her bottom lip quivering dangerously.

“Tell me what’s going on,” Mattie said softly.

“I screwed up,” Kim said defensively. “I invited a
bunch of kids over. I thought I could control them, but—”

“I know what happened at the party,” Mattie interrupted. “I want to know what’s going on with you.”

“I don’t understand.” Kim looked imploringly toward her father.

“What are you feeling, Kimmy?” Jake asked.

Kim shrugged, laughed, a short brittle sound that threatened to break upon contact with the air. “You sound like my therapist.”

“Talk to us, sweetheart.”

“There’s nothing to talk about. You went away. I threw a party. It was a mistake, and I’m sorry.”

“Were you angry because we went away?” Mattie asked.

“Angry? Of course not. Why would I be angry?”

“Because we didn’t take you with us.”

“That’s just silly. I’m not a baby.” Kim shifted her weight restlessly from one foot to the other. “Besides, how could I go with you? I have school, and anyway, this was your holiday. I understand that.”

“Understanding something doesn’t always make it easier to deal with,” Jake said.

“What are you saying? That you think I did this on purpose?”

“Nobody said you did anything on purpose,” Mattie said.

“Because I was angry at you for going away? Is that what you’re saying?”

“Were you?” Jake asked.

Kim’s eyes shot frantically around the room, as if she were looking for a way out. “No. Of course not.”

“You weren’t the least little bit angry at me for taking your mother away from you?”

“You’re her husband, aren’t you?”

“Not a very good one, as you’ve pointed out on more than one occasion.” Jake’s voice was steady, even gentle. “If there was any kind of a marriage here,” he conceded, “it was between you and your mother. God knows I was never around.” He paused, his eyes appealing to both mother and daughter for forgiveness. “For almost sixteen years, you had your mother all to yourself, Kimmy. And then suddenly, everything changed. Your mother got sick. I came back home. You felt increasingly left out. And then I whisk your mother off to Paris, leaving you at home.”

“So … what? I’m like the spurned wife? Is that what you’re saying?”

“I guess that’s exactly what I’m saying,” Jake agreed. “And you felt abandoned and betrayed and scared because you thought you were losing your mother. I’m the other woman, Kimmy,” he acknowledged with a sad smile. “And I don’t blame you one bit for being angry.”

Kim looked helplessly toward the window, her lips twisting frantically, as if she were literally trying to digest the things Jake was saying. “So, bottom line, what you’re saying is, I was angry at you for leaving me, for taking my mother away, and I invited a bunch of kids over, knowing they’d trash the house? Is that it?”

“Is it?”

“No! Yes! Maybe!” Kim shouted in almost the same breath. “I don’t know. I don’t know.” She started pacing, increasingly small circles between the bed and the window.
“Maybe I
was
angry at you for going away and leaving me here alone. Maybe I
did
invite those kids over knowing something like this would probably happen. Maybe I really
wanted
it to happen. I don’t know. I don’t know anything anymore. I just know I’m so sorry,” she cried. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay, baby,” Mattie said, aching to surround her daughter with comforting arms.

“I’ll get a job. I’ll pay for everything.”

“We’ll work something out later,” Jake said.

Kim’s shoulders began to shake, her face dissolving, like heated wax, around her open mouth. “I’ll go live with Grandma Viv. I know she’d let me stay with her.”

“Is that what you want?”

“Isn’t it what
you
want?”

“We want you to stay here.” Tears fell the length of Mattie’s cheeks.

“But why? I’m a horrible person. Why would you want anything to do with me?”

“You’re not a horrible person.”

“Look what I did!” Kim cried. “I let them wreck the house. I let them destroy all the things you love.”

“I love
you,”
Mattie said, once again patting the empty space beside her on the bed. “Please sit down, Kim. Please let me hold you.”

Slowly, Kim lowered herself to the bed, collapsed against her mother’s chest.

“You’re just a little girl who made a big mistake,” Mattie said, kissing Kim’s forehead, weak fingers pulling at the bobby pins in Kim’s hair, until it fell free and loose around her shoulders. “You’re my sweet baby. I love you so much.”

“I love you too. I’m sorry, Mommy. I’m so sorry.”

“I know, baby.”

“All your things—”

“That’s all they are. Things,” Mattie told her, as an unexpected smile reached her lips. “Elaborate pepper mills.”

“What?”

“Things can be replaced, Kimmy,” Jake said, joining them on the bed.

“What if they can’t?”

“They’re still just things,” he said.

“You don’t hate me?”

“How could we hate you?” Mattie asked.

“We love you,” Jake said, making a spot for himself on the bed. “Just because we’re not happy with what you did, that doesn’t mean we don’t love you, that we’d ever stop loving you.” Mattie watched him reach out, remove the several bobby pins still dangling from his daughter’s head, then smooth back her silky hair with his gentle hand.

In the next instant, Kim was crying in his arms. Jake held her for several minutes, then wordlessly, without disturbing his daughter, he reached out and touched Mattie’s fingers. The three of them sat this way, in their tight little circle, until it grew dark.

M
attie sat in her wheelchair on the balcony off the kitchen, watching her daughter swim. It was cool, cooler than normal for late September, and gusts of steam wafted up from the overheated pool. Mattie’s eyes followed the graceful arc of her daughter’s arms as they sliced through the water, her long, lithe body propelled by the steady kick of her feet, her dark blond hair streaming freely behind her head. Like a beautiful young mermaid, Mattie thought, imagining herself swimming by her daughter’s side. She shivered.

“Are you cold, Mrs. Hart?” a voice asked from somewhere behind her.

“A little,” Mattie managed to spit out with great effort. Immediately, Mattie felt a cashmere shawl wrap around her shoulders. “Thank you, Aurora,” she whispered, not sure whether the petite Mexican housekeeper
Jake had hired at the beginning of the summer had heard. Her voice was so low these days, so quiet. Every word was a struggle. On everyone’s part. She struggled to speak, to keep from choking on her thoughts; those around her struggled to hear, to understand what she was trying to say.

“Come on in, George,” Kim called toward the frisky puppy who was running back and forth along the side of the pool as she swam. “The water’s really warm.”

George barked his refusal and bounded up the balcony steps, jumping into Mattie’s lap and licking her face. No trouble understanding what he had to say, Mattie thought, savoring the feel of his wet tongue on her lips, as Kim waved happily from the pool and returned to her swimming.

“No, no,” Aurora said, lifting the puppy from Mattie’s lap and depositing him on the cedar planks. “Mustn’t lick Mrs. Hart on the lips.”

“It’s okay, Aurora,” Mattie tried to say, but she coughed instead, the cough becoming a desperate gasp for air. In months gone by, Mattie’s hands would have shot from her side as she fought to get oxygen into her lungs, but now her skinny arms hung lifeless at her sides, gnarled fingers folded neatly in the middle of her lap. Only her head moved, bouncing violently on top of her shoulders with each strangled breath.

“It’s okay. You okay,” Aurora told her steadily, no longer panicking at such episodes, eyes locking on Mattie’s until the spasm was complete. “You okay,” she repeated, wiping the tears from Mattie’s eyes with a tissue, smoothing back Mattie’s hair, patting Mattie’s
useless hands, hands that rested across equally useless legs. “You want something to drink? Some water or juice?”

“Water,” Mattie said, hearing only the first syllable clearly, the second syllable disappearing, like steam from the pool, into the cool air.

As soon as Aurora retreated to the kitchen, George jumped back into Mattie’s lap, licking her twice across the lips before his tongue disappeared eagerly inside her left nostril. Mattie laughed, and the puppy settled comfortably into her lap, warming her cold hands with his furry little body, so that she felt as if she were wearing fleece-lined mittens. What was the old saying? Happiness is a warm puppy? They certainly got that one right, Mattie marveled, watching the puppy as he closed his eyes in instant sleep. All she had to do was provide a comfortable spot for him to curl up in, and he loved her. Unconditionally.