Элисон Скотч - The Theory of Opposites

I nodded my head while he rubbed my feet, and said, “I understand. I can totally see why marriage doesn’t add up.” What the hell did I know? Maybe it didn’t.

And then there was the opportunity in Seattle, and he wanted me to come. We were driving home from a weekend in Sag Harbor when he asked. And I loved him more than anyone, and yet, I immediately said no.

Even today, the same impulse rises up in my throat when I recall the memory. No. It sprang up quickly, unexpectedly, and I think neither of us knew how to react. It wasn’t as if I was known for my strident opinions.

He turned off the radio and swallowed my answer for twenty miles. I figured he was concocting his plan to get me to reconsider. He always had a plan to get anyone to reconsider. I eased my head into the headrest and let my hair fly against the breeze of the open window and waited for him to tell me why I had to reconsider.

Finally, he just said, simply, succinctly, without argument: “Why?”

And I said, much to my own surprise: “Because I believe in marriage.”

So he said: “But marriage doesn’t add up.”

And I didn’t answer because I didn’t have any reason to insist that marriage added up, at least to me. Not with my own parents as examples, not with anything sturdy to support me. And yet, still, some part of me believed that it was too soon to abandon the notion of happily ever after, the sort of happily ever after that came with vows and a three-tiered cake and the people most important to you as witnesses to your union.

He said: “Why didn’t you tell me you felt this way? Why wait until now?”

And I said: “I don’t know.” And then I paused and added: “But aren’t you going to figure out how to get me to say yes?”

But he shook his head, and there were tears in his eyes.

“Not this time. No, I am not.”

Email from: Willa Chandler-Golden

To: Minnie Chandler

Subject: Are you there?

Hi Mom,

No one has heard from you in a week since you went to Palm Beach. Are you okay? I know that Raina was in touch when Oliver was indicted, and she is grateful that you posted bail, but we are all a little concerned that no one has heard from you since. As you know, I’m in Seattle researching a book project (looks like dad might not be the only published author in the family!), and it is going…well. I think. I don’t really know. I just do what Vanessa says, which is weird things like go up to 20 strangers and tell them they look beautiful, or learn how to ride a mountain bike (I think I broke my pinky yesterday, but I’m okay — I put it in a splint I made with Q-tips), and she even forced me to hike up Mt. Rainier. Do you know Mt. Rainier? It’s hell. It’s hell on earth, Mom. It’s raining again today, so I had some time to email.

Anyway, please either get in touch with me or Raina to let us know that you haven’t set sail for Bali with a retired billionaire. If you have, please at least consider writing me into the will.

Also, before you ask, I haven’t spoken to Shawn, though I’m hoping to see Nicky soon. We lost our apartment, and all of our stuff is in storage, and I think that’s a pretty good metaphor for my life right now.

xoxo

Willa

PS — as you may know, Ollie is on house arrest and staying at Raina’s. If you are back in town, I’m sure she’d appreciate it if you stopped in and checked on him.

Email from: Minnie Chandler

To: Willa Chandler-Golden

Subject: Re: Are you there?

Hi darling William!

I am so sorry that I have been remiss in staying in touch for a week. This time away from your father and the family has been so nourishing for my soul, and while I provided Ollie with his bail money (a sentence every mother can only dream of typing!), I had a spiritual awakening three days ago. And that is this: I love my family like all get out, but I have had enough. This is my time, my darling! I am sixty-six, and I am going to enjoy my sunset years without getting dragged into the horseshit that this family always manages to step into! It is so liberating! Try it, darling: just say FUCK IT! Go on, try it! You have been so like me your whole life, and damn your father, I am certain that he would tell you that shouting FUCK IT to the world wouldn’t mean anything, wouldn’t change anything, but dammit, it feels wonderful!!!!

I came to this spiritual awakening with the help of my new friend, Nancy Barnes. Do you remember Nancy? You met her so many years ago — twenty, perhaps — when we all vacationed at the Breakers. Well, we haven’t seen each other since, but we ran into one another at this new meditation hut that is just soooo relaxing, and we reacquainted ourselves rather quickly. Nancy has opened new pathways in my mind and my emotions, and if I’m speaking freely, my sexual well-being, and I have never felt so nourished in my life.

I am not going back to New York for now. But please continue to email me, my darling. I know that this thing with Shawn is a mess, but I can only hope that one day soon you find the fulfillment that I am finding with Nancy.

xoxo

Your mother, Minnie

PS — while I am no longer on speaking terms with your father, he continues to email me incessantly. He is quite angry with you. I’ll forward along his notes shortly. Nancy and I are off for sunset massages.

Email from: Raina Chandler-Farley

To: Willa Chandler-Golden

Subject: What’s your plan?

Willa,

Your brother is driving me nuts. Not just me, but Gloria too. Jeremy is in Berlin, so he hasn’t been here to deal with the madness, and for once, I’m not pissed at all of his travel because he would just be one more person around for me to deal with. Ollie has started holding yoga classes in my living room. Yes, really. Jennifer Aniston asked Gloria for a towel and some lemon tea this morning. All while I sit here and diligently work on his behalf. I’m not saying that you should come home because I can’t blame you for running, but still. I do wish that you would stop running. We go before the judge in three weeks. I hope you can at least be back for that.

Raina Chandler-Farley, esq

Partner

Williams, Russell and Chance, LLP

email: rcf@wrc.com

Email from: Willa Chandler-Golden

To: Nicholas Abrams

Subject: How r u?

Nicky — it’s been a few days since I’ve heard from you. Can you let me know if you’re okay? I drafted an email to your Uncle Shawn (okay, I’ve drafted three) but am too chicken to send them. Do you think I should send them? Is he dating? Do you know a woman named Erica Stoppard? Is she prettier than me? Can you tell me why I am writing a twelve-year-old and asking his advice? Wait…have you ever had a girlfriend? This might be helpful for me to know before I ask for further advice. You know what? On second thought, please ignore this entire email. I should really hate your uncle right now, so let’s pretend that I actually do.

Email from: Nicholas Abrams

To: Willa Chandler-Golden

Subject: re: How r u?

Dear Aunt Willa:

I might be 12, but I know a cry for help when I read one. I told Uncle Shawn he’s an asshole and should send you a note. Also, I have had a girlfriend named Mara Goldstein, who just got braces and changed her French kissing style, so I broke up with her. Speaking of Goldsteins, I am exploring Judaism. What do you know about being a MOT? (That’s member-of-the-tribe, in case you didn’t know.)