The War of the Roses: The Children (9 page)

Josh arrived at his sister's apartment, which was filled, as always, with the tantalizing aroma of cooking. It was a sharp reminder of their mother, who was forever cooking wonderful dishes for her catering business. He was immediately captured by the power of nostalgia and showed it when he embraced his sister. She returned his embrace with enthusiasm. In her arms, surrounded by her loving warmth, his body was suddenly wracked with sobs.

“What is it, Josh?” Evie asked soothingly. She, too, had a familiar aroma about her as he nestled himself in the ample and warm flesh of her body and held himself there for a considerable length of time. He felt her hands caress his hair as she offered him her sisterly comfort.

“For a moment there I thought I was back home with Mom and Dad,” Josh whispered, still holding her, but at arm's length now, looking into her cherubic, dimpled face and the same blue eyes that had miraculously resurfaced in his son.

“Happens to me a lot, Josh. They're never out of my thoughts.”

He nodded and brought her closer to him again. Looking up, he saw Tweedledee, the Siamese cat, sitting on an upper shelf of a bookcase watching them with vague interest.

“I'm sorry, Evie. Laying this on you.”

“For what, sweetheart? You're my dearest little brother.”

It was an odd reversal of sorts, since, despite his being four years younger, he had always performed the role of Big Brother.

“Your little brother has a big problem,” he managed to say.

“No problem is too big for a solution. And nothing makes me happier than your coming to me for solace.”

She had obviously dressed for the occasion, putting on her long black velvet dress adorned with a single strand of pearls, certainly faux since she had sold their mother's jewelry years ago. The dress covered her ample body like a shroud. Yet she looked lovely, like a giant porcelain doll.

“A little drinkee?” she asked. “I made these lovely hors d'oeuvres.” She pointed to a familiar table, one of the few remaining furniture antiques on which he could see a pâté under a sheen of gelatin. Beside it was bottle of Dry Sack, her favorite sherry. He sat down beside her on the couch as she smeared the pâté on a square of pumpernickel.

“You'll love this, Josh,” she said. “It's
pâté en gelée
. Mom used to make it.” He knew what was coming next. Food. Although his stomach rebelled at the richness of her concoctions, he made no attempt to admonish her. Love, whether it came in the form of food or anything else, was what he needed most at that moment.

“Liver pâté, deviled ham and cream cheese, Worcestershire sauce, and, oh yes, a few wee drops of cognac brandy, beef consommé, some of this gorgeous Dry Sack, and cover it all with gelatin. Taste it, darling. It's a gift from heaven.”

It was not enough simply to serve the food. She had to embellish it with the ritual of identifying the ingredients, as if it were somehow part of a religious experience. She handed him the square of pumpernickel, heavily smeared with the concoction, and poured him a glass of the Dry Sack. Then she gave herself an equally generous portion and poured herself a drink.

“First taste, darling,” she said, delicately biting into the smeared pumpernickel with her usual “ahs” and “ohs” of gustatory joy. He forced himself to take a bite and say “delicious,” then took a sip of sherry and settled back on the couch.

By then, Tweedledee, as round and bloated as her mistress, had bounded from the bookcase shelf and jumped into Evie's lap. As if by rote, Evie smeared some pâté on a tiny piece of pumpernickel and gave it to the cat, who munched it eagerly, then settled down to nap.

“I can't believe I've done this,” he began, taking a deep breath, not quite knowing where to begin. “I'm embarrassed and ashamed, Evie. And you're the only person on earth I have the courage to tell it to.”

“Haven't we always been there for each other, Josh?”

“Always.”

He told her about his affair with Angela, leaving out the more intimate details, but pointing out that from the beginning the affair was to be risk-free. He described how it had driven him into paroxysms of guilt and anxiety and how he had finally found the courage to break it off. Then he explained how her husband was now approaching him for money.

“It was getting crazy. From the beginning it was supposed to be pure sex. Then I was actually falling for her. It was bizarre. It had nothing to do with my family. I guess I went nuts. Can you imagine the energy it took just to dissimulate? It was like… like….”

“It was only a little interlude of pleasure,” Evie said as she dipped into the pâté again. “You, Josh?”

“No thanks. You go ahead, Evie.”

She spread more of the pâté on a piece of pumpernickel and downed it with gusto. Despite his fear that she was eating herself to an early demise, he chose not to lecture her and intrude on her perpetual state of good cheer and sense of well-being.

“You're a beautiful, attractive person, Josh,” Evie said when she had eaten the pâté and washed it down with sherry. “I'm sure many women have wanted to park their shoes under your bed. When the pleasures of the flesh beckon, it is sometimes hard to turn down.”

“Evie, you know I was never the type to sleep around. It just wasn't my thing. And not once since my marriage vows have I ever stepped out of line. Not until this weird episode. My wife and family are everything to me. Everything! This was madness, pure sexual obsession.”

“I've been there, Josh,” she sighed, leaning over to smear more pâté on the pumpernickel.

“The guilt of it gave me great pain. But I'm afraid I am doomed to punishment. You know how her husband found out. Her confessor told him.”

“They can't do that,” Evie said. “They're not supposed to tell.”

“The thing is, her husband knew about it for awhile. Angela said all the priest did was hint, but I'm sure the hints were broad. I was being set up. Not by Angela. I can't believe she would have thought of it. But by her husband.”

She finished the hors d'oeuvre and licked her chubby fingers. “Are you sure Victoria doesn't know?” she asked.

He shook his head vehemently. “God forbid. That's the end of the world for me. And the kids, if they ever get wind of this…,” his voice trailed off.

Evie smiled and shook her head. Her chins quivered.

“Now, now,” she said, patting his hand again. “Maybe you should give him the money.”

“That's just it. I can't. You know why? Victoria controls the money. I can't ask her.”

“Is it a great deal of money?”

“It's two hundred thousand dollars.”

“Oh dear God.”

Josh recounted how the husband showed up in his office and gave him an ultimatum.

“He wants it by tomorrow.”

Evie dipped into the pâté again. “You must eat, Josh. It will give you confidence.”

“It's not confidence I need. It's money.”

It occurred to him suddenly that the day would come when he would have to ask Victoria for help in supporting Evie. He brushed the thought quickly from his mind.

“This will require a bit of thinking, Josh,” Evie said. She seemed lost in thought for a moment, then looked around the apartment. Josh followed her eyes.

The apartment was a large rent-controlled place in a building that had seen better days. But it did have a wonderful view of the Hudson. Scattered around the apartment were the odd remnant of their parents' antique collection. There were also many framed pictures of them with their parents before the “accident.”

“I've been offered $50,000 for the bed, Josh. I haven't sold it yet. I think I could get more at auction. But you can have that and the rug, and the other odds and ends might fetch more.”

Through the sudden mist filling his eyes Josh could still see his sister's face. They had stuck together through thick and thin, worried about each other, and he had gladly, eagerly turned over his half of their inheritance to her. Bending over, he kissed her forehead.

“Dear, dear Evie.”

“Maybe her husband will be reasonable?”

“No way,” Josh said. “He's seen our house. He knows what I make. He wants a certified check and my signature on this ridiculous legal document.” He patted his inside jacket pocket, which held the envelope. “I'm not supposed to bad-mouth Angela, and it says I admit to sexual harassment, a bald-faced lie. The woman seduced me. The fact is, I'd sign it and get it over with if I could come up with the money, which I can't. Hell, Evie, I don't even know where our bank accounts are. In fact, I know zero about our finances.” He shook his head. “My fault there as well. I never cared to know.”

“Then we'll have to figure out a way. But first dinner.”

“I'm really not that hungry, Evie.”

“That is the source of your consternation. An appetite for food is an appetite for life.”

She gently pushed Tweedledee off her lap and then got up, took his hand, helped lift him from the couch, and led him to the dining room. She had set two places.

“Mom's dishes. And those wonderful Waterford crystal wine glasses,” Josh said, observing the care she gave to setting the table.

“Wait'll you taste what I made. And the wine.”

She had already opened it, and it stood on a little silver tray. He noted it was a La Tâche, and it crossed his mind that she had preserved it from their father's extensive wine collection. On closer inspection, he realized that it was a '91 vintage, which put it more than a dozen years after they had died. He figured the wine cost nearly three hundred dollars, but he refused to rebuke her for her extravagance.

“Dad had '66,” Evie said, seeing him inspect the label. “He had such wonderful taste.” She shook her head sadly. “God, I miss him.”

“So do I,” he said. “Very much.”

When he was seated, she went into the kitchen, which wasn't far from the small dining room.

“You just sit there, brother mine. What I have for you will make everything all right.”

He studied the table settings, remembering the dishes, glasses, and napkins that their mother had loved. For some reason, they had not been caught in the crossfire of their war. Looking at them, touching them, he tried yet again to fathom what had happened between his mother and his father to create such animosity and hatred between them. Through it all they had been exceedingly loving parents. It would forever be the great riddle of their lives.

“Ta da,” Evie chirped, bringing in a tureen, also recognizable from their mother's collection. She ladled out the soup into his bowl and her own. He watched how she dipped her nose close to the soup and waved her hands in an upward motion to get the full aroma.

“It's butternut squash soup, darling. Squash, of course. Lots of heavy cream, onions, cloves, parsley, and a dash of curry. It's a miracle soup, really. Come on, now. Do your duty. It will make you courageous.”

They ate their soup in silence. Josh tried his best but left more than half in the soup plate while Evie polished off her own as well as what was left in the tureen.

After she had finished her soup, Evie said, “Just suppose you fessed up. Is Victoria willing to destroy the family simply because you were briefly unfaithful? Surely she would not take such drastic action? I've found that the honest truth is always the best policy.”

“I couldn't agree more. That was always the basis of our relationship. That's why I feel so awful about this. I betrayed our principles. I lied. I cheated. I betrayed her. Now it's come home to roost.”

“Sometimes things are irresistible, Josh. No matter how hard you try to resist. People who love you have to make allowances.”

“I'm afraid Victoria has become a bit of a purist.” He was tempted to tell her about the incident with Michael, but held off.

Evie got up from the table and collected the soup plates and the tureen and went back into the kitchen.

“Ta da,” Evie cried again, bringing in a serving plate, then going back to the kitchen and returning with another. Then she sat down and poured the wine, pointing out the dishes she had prepared.

“That's sweet potato casserole. It has pecans in it and butter and cream, of course, and an egg and just an inchy binchy pinch of mace.” She smiled and turned her attention to another dish. “English pot pie,” she said. “It's got everything. Veal kidneys, butter, brandy, paprika, Worcestershire, Tabasco, fresh tarragon. I mean
everything
. And look how pretty it looks.” She winked at him. “And don't forget to leave room for the coconut cake and my special chocolate dish. Now just dig in.”

“Evie, you really shouldn't have gone to all this trouble.”

“Trouble? Josh, the preparation of this food is my expression of the truest love I have for my brother. You must understand that there are consequences to thinness. Deprivation makes people….” She searched for the right word. “Arid.”

He forced himself to eat and show passion for her food. In a strange way, he felt his morbidity disappear. It was soothing, too, to know that Evie was happy to have him there. He was surrounded by love and felt its power.

“You really think I should tell her?” Josh said. “Confess all?”

“When you tell people you've done the wrong thing, they often will look inside themselves and see that they, too, might, given the right circumstances, do the very same thing.”

“Victoria wouldn't see it that way. For her, it would be the death knell of our marriage.”

“What about the children?”

He shrugged and thought about it for a moment.

“Yes, the children,” he sighed. “We've been there, Evie. We had no choice in the matter.”

“What could we have done?”

They grew silent. He watched the moisture gather in his sister's eyes. It was the only subject that could ever move her to tears.