Douglas Kennedy - The Pursuit of Happiness

'Mom didn't mind that?'

'She didn't say. But, about ten years after Jack's death, she did make this passing comment about how "that woman has been very good about staying away from us". A couple of years later - when you were in Guys and Dolls at school - Sara showed up at a performance. I was with your mom, and I know that Dorothy saw her. But she said nothing. Just as she said nothing when she showed up at your graduations from Brearley and Smith. Again, Dorothy knew she was there - but she also saw that Sara was playing by the rules. And I think, in her own curious way, she liked the fact that she was so interested in you, and how you were doing. Remember: by the time you graduated from Smith, your dad was dead for twenty years. And Dorothy realized that the trust had made all the difference when it came to raising you and Charlie. So, in her own unspoken way, she was grateful'.

'But they never met again?'

'Nope. It was a four-decade silence... and they only lived seven blocks from each other. But you know what your mom was like. A cupcake with a reinforced steel filling'.

'Tell me about it. Negotiating with her was like taking on Jimmy Hoffa'.

'There you go. But though she was a hard ass, she was also pretty damn ethical. That's why she hinted to me that, if the story was going to be told to you, Sara would have to do it. Because it was her own unstated way of letting Sara know that she didn't go to her grave angry at her. It was a gesture, a mitzvah. I think Dorothy's final thought on the subject was: if I'm no longer here to worry about it, why not let her finally meet you'.

'Then why didn't you just come out and introduce us...'

'Your hard-ass mom had the last word on that. "If that woman decides she does want to meet Kate, you must promise me that you'll say nothing to Kate in advance. In fact, I want you to deny all knowledge of that woman. Let her figure out a way of getting in touch with Kate... and then see if Kate will listen to her'."

I shook my head in stunned incredulity. It was a classic Mom move. Forgiveness... but with a little get-the-message sting as part of the overall absolution package. She always knew how to ram home a moral point - yet to mask it behind a lily-scented smokescreen of decorum and propriety. This was, without question, her final masterstroke. She understood me better than anyone. She knew - damn her - that I'd play the hard bitch and resist all attempts to meet up with some old lady I'd initially file under dotty. Just as she also knew that Sara was strong-willed enough to finally get her own way, and force a meeting. And then? Then I'd be in possession of the story - but only Sara's version of events. Had Mom wanted to put across her point of view, she herself would have told me everything before she died. Or she would have left a long letter of explanation. Instead, for reasons I still couldn't fathom, she chose silence... and the risk that I would only hear Sara's side of the story. And this decision baffled me completely.

'You still should have warned me that a bombshell was en route in my direction', I said.

'A promise is a promise', Meg said. 'Your mom made me swear on a stack of Gideons not to say a damn word to you. I knew you weren't going to be a member of my fan club after Sara finally met you. But... what can I say? If there's one worthwhile thing that Catholicism taught me, it was how to keep a secret'.

'Are you sure Charlie never knew?'

'Mr Self-Pity? Even as a kid, he was too absorbed in feeling sorry for himself to ever notice anything going on around him. And since he didn't deign to see your mom for the last fifteen years... Nah, Charlie-boy was way in the dark about this. And always will be. Unless you tell him now'.

'Why would I do that? Especially as it would just reinforce all of Charlie's beliefs about his dysfunctional heritage. And when he learned that Daddy was a rat...'

She suddenly turned on me. 'Never, never call him that again'. Her voice was hard, angry.

'Why the hell not?' I said. 'He only destroyed a couple of lives. And now - hey, presto! - back he comes to haunt mine'.

'Well, honey bun, I am so desperately sorry to hear that your fragile psyche was undermined by the discovery that your father was one complicated guy...'

'Complicated? He did some terrible things'.

'Yes he did. And God, how he paid for it. Just as Sara paid for her bad calls. You don't get through life without paying big time for getting it wrong'.

'Tell me about it. I'm the poster child for Getting It Wrong'.

'No - you're the poster child for self-flagellation. Which is so dumb'.

'That's me: Ms-Refuses-to-be-Happy. It's a great Malone family tradition'.

'What family isn't screwy? What family doesn't have some shit hidden in the attic? Big deal. But what saddens the hell out of me... what neither your mother nor I could ever work out... was why, over the past ten years, you always seemed so damn disappointed in everything. Especially yourself'.

'Because I am disappointing'.

'Don't say that'.

'Why not? I've failed everybody: my mom, my son. Even that shit, my ex-husband. And me. I've really failed me'.

'You are so wrong there', she said, trying to take my hand. I pulled it away.

'No. I'm not'.

'You know what I discovered some time ago? Everything in life is fundamentally catastrophic. But the thing is, most stories don't end happily or tragically. They just end. And usually in something of a muddle. So as long as you know that it's all a shambles with a definite terminus, well...'

'Oh I get it. Try to be happy within the shambles?'

'Hey, is happiness a federal offence?'

'I don't do happy'.

'You used to, you know'.

'Yeah, but that was before I started making mistakes...'

'With guys, you mean?'

'Perhaps'.

'Listen, I could write chapter and verse on every damn disappointment and sadness and failure I've suffered. So what? Terrible stuff happens to everyone. It's the basic law of living. But so is one simple fact: you have no choice but to keep going. Am I happy? Not particularly. But I'm not unhappy either'.

I stared down into my drink. I didn't know what to say, think, or feel anymore.

'Go home, Kate', Meg said gently. 'You need some sleep'.

'Understatement of the year', I said, picking myself up out of the chair. She stood up as well.

'I think I'll phone Mom's lawyer tomorrow', I said. 'It's time to get the will probated. Not that there's much to probate. The way I figure it, the trust was virtually depleted by the time I finished college'.

'She used the money wisely - for you guys'.

'I never wanted anything from her'.

'Yes, you did. Like every kid, you wanted a perfect, unflawed parent. Instead, you discovered that she was a mess. Just like the rest of us'.

I put on my coat. She picked up the manuscript box and said, 'Don't forget your book'.

'It's not my book. And how about you giving it back to her?'

'Oh no', she said, dropping the box in my hands. 'I'm not playing mailman for you'.

'I don't want to see her'.

'Then take it to a post office and send it to her'.

'Fine, fine', I said wearily. I hoisted the box. I reached for the front door. 'I'll call you tomorrow', I said.

'So we are going to talk again?'

'Do we have a choice?' I said.

'Go to hell', she said, giving me a fast, no-nonsense kiss on the cheek.

Outside Meg's building, I hailed a cab. I gave the driver my home address. Halfway there, I told him that I had decided to change destination. We were now heading to West 77th Street.

I reached her building just after eight. I pressed her bell on the front door intercom. She answered, sounding very awake. When she heard my voice, she buzzed me in immediately. She was waiting for me in the open door of her apartment. She was as carefully dressed and poised as before.