Twisted Roots (7 page)

"Your mother means emotionally.
It
takes wisdom, years, maturing to involve yourself deeply in other people's problems. Hannah,"
Everything they were saying sounded so right, of course, but at the same time, it did feel like they were \\Tapping tight, nylon cords around me, binding me so tightly. I couldn't breathe. It made me furious inside. My nerve endings felt like Heyden's guitar strings. twanged.
"Bath Miguel and
I
want you to enjoy yourself, have fun, have a social life." Mommy said. "Don't misinterpret our concern for you. Okay?"
I
nodded.
Then I blurted. "We're going to the movies tomorrow night. After we look at a possible new guitar he might buy and then have something to eat." I added.
"Tomorrow, but I'm coming home tomorrow.
I
thought we'd have a relaxing dinner and talk about little Claude and things we could all do together," Mommy said.
"How can you come home tomorrow? Aren't you breast-feeding him anymore?"
She smiled.
"Yes, of course. but I'll pump milk for him that will be kept refrigerated and come back twice a day until he is released."
"Pump? Ugh," I said. Miguel laughed.
"It's not as unpleasant as it might sound," Mommy said. 'In time I'll begin to alternate formula and slowly wean him off. There is a great deal of evidence that babies are healthier when they are breast-fed." she insisted,
"I already promised to meet him and go to the movies,"
I
said in a snappy voice. I didn't want to hear how wonderfully she was going to treat little Claude compared to how I was treated when I was born in the midst of a shattered marriage.
"Well, of course, if you have already made plans."
"Where will you go to eat dinner?" Miguel asked. "I don't know yet."
"Why don't you take him to Havana Malena, I'll call my brother and have them set you up, if you like." he offered. "My treat." he added.
I
gazed at him with some suspicion. It was nice of him to make the offer, but in the back of my mind. I thought he was doing it just so he
and
Mommy could find out more about Heyden. On the other hand, the food was wonderful at Miguel's family's
restaurant. and Heyden might not be as embarrassed as he would be if I paid for Our dinner or even shared the cost. This way we were both being treated.
Can I have the car again? He doesn't have a car." I said. "Only a moped."
"I don't like you driving into that
neighborhood," Mommy said.
"It's not that 'bad, is it. Miguel?"
He looked caught in the middle. "Well. as long as you remain in well lit areas and just drive in and drive out. I suppose it's fine," he relented, "I would rather she was in a car and not on his moped anyway. Willow," he added.
She didn't look happy about it, but she reluctantly agreed.
"I'll ask Heyden about going to your family's restaurant and call you from school tomorrow. if that's all right,"
I
said.
"Sure."
Mommy sighed. "I guess I just have to let you grow up," she said.
"Your father and stepmother
let
you."
I
replied.
She raised her eyes. "Oh, my stepmother would have
let
me out of the
house
to play in traffic when
I
was only five,
if
she could."
Miguel laughed and then she did. too.
"Time turns turmoil into comedy," she said, and he nodded. Then she looked at me. "You can go look at
little
Claude, if you like."
"I'm sure he's sleeping contentedly," Miguel said. The way he smiled at Mommy told me he was implying he would be sleeping contentedly if he had been little Claude
and
had just breast-fed. Mammy actually blushed and glanced at me to see
if
I had been perceptive enough to catch the small but clearly sexual suggestion.
Except for the time Selma 'Warden told us about her walking in on her parents making love when she was only seven, none of us ever referred
to
our own parents when we talked about love and romance and sex. Miguel and Mommy could be very affectionate toward each other. but I couldn't recall them ever kissing each other passionately in my presence. It seemed to be true for
all
my friends-- parents kept their sexual relationships well locked behind closed doors. It was somehow different to hold hands as a husband and
a
wife, different from holding them as lovers.
Even Mommy's getting pregnant seemed to be something that happened immaculately.
All
of our mothers were Mother Marys, and to some of us, our fathers were like gods, worshiped and idealized. In my house and in my life that wasn't true. of course. My father was this Hollywood-handsome,
sophisticated lawyer whose kisses were birdlike pecks on my cheeks
and
whose love for me often felt more like something grown
out
of the soil of vengeance and spite. Nothing underscored that more than his refusal to permit Miguel to adopt me and change my name. However, it didn't appear to come from an overriding love for me as much as it did from an overriding indignation that someone, anyone, would dare even think to cast off the Eaton name.
Miguel was certainly a good-looking man, and no man was or could be sweeter to me than he was, but it was still easier for me to imagine Mommy in a loving, passionate embrace with Daddy than it was to imagine her with Miguel. I suppose I was never convinced of Mommy's distaste and dislike of Daddy because of that. Despite her self-deprecating talk, her continuous expressions of amazement at herself far ever being taken in by someone like Daddy, I had an easier time believing she would fall in love with him than
I
did believing she would find it one of the most stupid and foolish things she could have ever done.
Of course. I believed that was because I was still too young and still not smart enough to see. I had to accept an faith that she was right-- one should never fall in love with a man like my father. A girl had to be careful, smarter, more aware, and know when her own body was lusting and blinding her.
But how do you ever trust your heart? I wondered. When do you know it's right? When do you know that it's not just lust? If someone as brilliant as my mother could have been fooled, what hope did I have?
Maybe that was why she and Miguel were so concerned about my seeing someone. Suddenly, and maybe far the first time ever,
I
realized how hard it was to be a parent. It was like holding on to the string of a kite that was caught up in the wind. If you pulled too hard and too fast, it would snap and be gone forever, and if you let out more string and gave it more room, the wind might still have its way with it so that when it returned to earth, it was not what it had been.
I started out to see Claude. and Mommy seized my arm. She smiled.
"Don't blame me for wanting you to be my little girl forever. Hannah.
I
know it's wrong and it can't be, but don't hate me for it."
"I can't hate you. Mommy,"
I
said.
She let go of my hand.
I felt like the kite in the wind and continued on.
.
It
was like pulling
a
curtain of fury away from my eyes, a sheer curtain of red. The more I gazed through the window at little Claude, the more the curtain moved
to
the sideline. Today he looked more like a little person, his mouth and chin showing resemblances to Miguel. His tiny body twitched. Do infants dream yet? I wondered. How could they? Maybe he was hearing the cries of the other infants and he hated it. Now I wanted him to come home and came home immediately. He needed protection. He should have his own place. I could see myself hurrying home to be with him, to give him his bottle when he was finally on formula, to change his diaper, and to hold him and keep him from crying and being afraid. He made me recall my best childhood dolls. Here he was, a living, breathing toy. Wouldn't it be fun to see him recognize me, to see him looking forward to me?
"Amazing how much he has grown in twentyfour hours, isn't it?" Miguel said, coming up beside me after
I
had been there a while.
"Yes."
"I think he's going to look more like your mother, despite my inky hair."
"I don't."
"Check these out." he said, drawing some pictures from the inside packet of his jacket.
They were pictures taken in Mommy's room, pictures of her holding little Claude. of Miguel holding him, and then the two of them standing side by side with little Claude in Mommy's arms.
"Do we look like doting parents already?"
"Yes,"
I
said, and he laughed.
"I'll get a picture of you holding him before we take him home, too," he promised. "Ready to go home?"
"Yes."
"I told your mother
I'd
follow you. You know her-- Nervous Nellie. Despite her brilliance, she still harbors this silly superstition about family curses and such. It's probably why she comes off sounding a little too protective." he added.
"Why is that. Miguel? What family curse?"
In our home it was always a forbidden topic, but somehow,
I
felt the lid had been opened on our personal Pandora's box, and like it or not, the past with all its dark days and troubled moments was let loose.
"Well, you know how difficult it was for her to be brought up in a home with a stepmother who despised her and a father who felt he had to restrain his love.
"And then, after they were gone and she learned the truth about her birth, she confronted your grandmother Grace and met your uncle Linden for the first time. He was already quite an emotionally wounded young man. To add insult to injury, he tried to commit suicide, and your mother blamed herself."
"I knew all that. but
I
never understood why Mommy blamed herself."
"She kept their relationship secret when she first arrived. She was afraid of the truth. To her it was like a big, blinding light in everyone's eyes. It had to be done slowly, carefully, and Linden wasn't stoma enough emotionally for all that.
"Then there was the trouble with your father and the Eatons and everything just piled up an her fragile shoulders. When your uncle Linden got hurt, your grandmother Grace was convinced there was some sort of perennial dark cloud over their heads and nothing could sweep it completely away."
"Do you think it could be true?"
"Of course not." he replied quickly. "And your mother doesn't really believe it in her heart, either, but it's like anything else that haunts a family's past. It takes time to see just how untrue and foolish it is.
"You are your own person. You will make the choices that determine your fate, and not some skeleton in some closet," Miguel assured me.
I glanced at little Claude.
I hoped Miguel was right, of course, now for little Claude as well as me.
After we returned home.
I
went to my room and found a message on my answering machine. It was from Heyden.
"Just want you to know I haven't murdered my sister.
I
have her shut up in a trunk and I'm burying it in the backyard, but other than that, things are fine. Thanks for being here with me. I know I wouldn't be as calm and collected if you hadn't been. I'm looking forward to our official date." he concluded. I could almost hear the laughter behind his voice as he pronounced the word official.
There was a second message. It was from Daddy. I had completely forgotten what he had said when I called him with my cell phone after
I
had visited Uncle Linden. Our conversation had been so short and he had been so flippant. I hadn't paid much attention to it.
"Hannah. I will be home for Friday night dinner. I'll pick you up at six-thirty."
Oh, no, I thought. It was not that often that Daddy invited me to dinner at his home. Most of the time, he picked me up with Adrian and Cade in the car and we all went to a restaurant, sometimes with Danielle coming along as well, but not always.
Daddy's home wasn't as big as Aunt Whitney and Uncle Hans's estate, an estate I had seen only in pictures and had passed by and gazed at from our car. but Daddy's home was one of the prime North Lake Way estate properties.
Adrian and Cade never stopped reminding me that they lived in a more desirable location and an even bigger house than I did.
It
had a very wide and long entry hall with Italian marble flooring, a dining room about one and a half times larger than ours, also with marble floors. Daddy's house had a more elaborate library, too, with black granite floors and a floor-to-ceiling bay window that provided a magnificent view of his wonderful gardens and tennis court. The pool had been recently redone with an expansive travertine terrace, and he had renovated his cabana, creating a living room with a travertine flooring and sliding doors that opened to the pool. There was a new steam sauna installed as well. The cabana had a guest bedroom. Adrian and Cade had practically taken to living there, considering it their private club.
I
knew they had friends over frequently, and from what they told me, their parties weren't the sort Mommy would like to see me attending.
Daddy was always into boating and now had his own yacht at his own dock. Adrian and Cade had been given Jet Skis for their birthdays last year. They bragged to me how popular they had become at their school, claiming an invitation to their house on the weekend was a "prize."
I felt terribly pulled in two directions. Should I call Heyden and tell him I had to go to my father's for dinner and try to get him to consider the following night? On top of what
I
had seen happen at his house, he might not believe me. I hadn't known him very long, but I hated the idea of disappointing him or giving him the impression that
I
was trying to find an excuse to get out of the date. Actually. I would rather be with Heyden. I thought.
On the other hand, it was so rare that Daddy wanted me at his home. I knew that it was usually when he was sure his parents weren't going to be there, or his sister. I didn't see him all that much these days.
I really didn't know what I was going to do when I called. To my surprise his butler didn't answer. Adrian did. It was difficult to decide who enjoyed tormenting me more. Adrian or Cade.
"The Eaton residence." he said, parodying their butler. whom