Эд Макбейн - Love, Dad

“No, thanks,” he said.

“Sit down,” she said, “I’ll make some coffee. How’s Mom?”

“Fine,” he said, and pulled a chair out from the kitchen table. The table was covered with a patterned oilcloth. It felt sticky to the touch.

“So what are you doing up here?” she asked. She had taken a can of coffee from the wooden cabinet over the sink and was searching for a spoon in one of the drawers. Her back was to him.

“There’s something we’ve got to talk about, Liss,” he said.

“I’ll bet I know what,” she said. “That letter from Brooke, am I right? Asking you to pay my half of the expenses from before I moved out.”

“Well, I’ve already paid those, Liss. It’s...”

“Then what? The long-distance calls Sparky made to Georgia?”

“No, no.”

“Well, it must be something pretty important to drag you all the way up to Boston,” she said, and put the pot on the stove, and struck a match. The gas jet ignited with a small pop.

“Lissie,” he said, “your mother felt I should be the one to tell you this.”

She turned from the stove.

“What is it?” she said.

“Lissie... Mom and I are separated.”

“What do you mean?”

“Living apart from each other,” he said.

“What? Come on,” she said, and smiled. He was watching her intently now, like a scientist gauging the reactions of a laboratory rat. She felt suddenly embarrassed, as if she had done something unspeakably horrible, when really she had done nothing at all. She waited for him to tell her this was just a little joke, he’d come up here to spring a little joke on her, they were still living happily ever after. He said nothing.

“Well... when did... when did this happen?” she asked, and sat at the table beside him.

“Two weeks ago,” he said.

“Gee,” she said. She was no longer smiling. She realized her hands were trembling, and she clenched them on the oilcloth-covered table top. “Well... where are you living? I mean, if you’re separated...”

“Mom went out to California. To see her sister.”

“Why didn’t she call me first? I mean, Jesus ...”

“She wanted me to tell you.”

“And... where are you living, Dad? Are you still living at the house?”

“No, the house is closed. Your mother’ll be living there when she gets back.”

“So... so where are you?”

“In New York.”

“Where?”

“I’m living with someone, Liss.”

“Someone? Who?”

“A woman.”

“What?” she said.

“I’m sorry, Liss, but...”

“No, what do you mean? A woman? Who?”

“Her name is Joanna.”

“Well... well, who the hell is Joanna?”

“Joanna Berkowitz.”

“Do I know her?”

“No.”

“I’m not sure I understand, Dad. When did you...”

“Lissie, there’s still a lot we have to talk about.”

“Yeah, it would seem so. Are you getting a divorce? I mean, is this just a separation, or are you getting a divorce? Can you tell me that?”

“I’ve asked for a divorce, Liss.”

“And is Mom giving it to you?”

“Our lawyers are already negotiating. Jerry Warren’s handling it for me, your mother’s hired a law firm in New York. We’re hoping it’ll all be settled before too long.”

“And then what?” Lissie said.

“Joanna and I plan to get married.” He paused. “Lissie, the important thing for you to know is that divorcing a woman doesn’t mean divorcing a child as well. I think you’re old enough at nineteen to accept the fact that whereas I’m your father, I’m also a man in my own...”

“What does that mean, Dad?” she asked. “Does that mean you don’t love Mom anymore?”

“I guess that’s what it means.”

“Well, don’t you for Christ’s sake know? You left home, you’re talking about marrying this Joanna person, whoever the hell she is...”

“Joanna Berkowitz,” Jamie said.

“Great, she’s Joanna Berkowitz, who gives a shit? You’re telling me you’re going to marry her, and in the same breath you’re telling me you guess you don’t love Mom anymore. Do you love her or don’t you? It seems to me that’s the only important thing you’ve...”

“Lissie, I’m not sure I want to go into all that with you.”

“No? Who would you like to go into it with? Joanna? I’m your fucking daughter, I get out of bed one morning and I find out my parents are getting a divorce, who would you like to discuss it with? Shall we get the landlady up here, ask her how she feels about all this?”

“I’m trying to say...”

“You’re trying to say it doesn’t matter what I think about any of this. Isn’t that what you’re trying to say?”

“I’m asking you to understand, Lissie.”

“Understand what? That you’re abandoning your family?”

“I’m doing no such thing!”

“No? What do you call it?”

“People do get divorced, Lissie. I didn’t invent it, it’s been around for...”

“Oh, come on, Dad.”

“Honey, I love you, but this has nothing to do with you, it has only to do with...”

“Nothing at all, right,” Lissie said. “My parents are breaking up, it has nothing to do with me.”

“It has to do with your mother and...”

“Yeah, and Joanna Berkowitz or whoever, but not me.”

“That’s right, Lissie.”

“No, it’s not right, Dad. Don’t try to tell me it’s right, okay? Because I think it’s wrong, I think it stinks. I think when your father runs off with another woman... how old is she, anyway?”

“Twenty-six.”

“Great! The girl you plan to marry is only seven years older than I am.”

“Well, eight. Almost eight.”

“How old are you, Dad?”

“You know how old I am.”

“You’re forty-four, forty-five, whatever the hell you are...”

“I’ll be forty-five in July.”

“Forty-five, and she’s twenty-six...”

“Almost twenty-seven.”

“Well, if that doesn’t tell you something, Dad...”

“What should it tell me, Liss?”

“You’re the grownup, you figure it out yourself, okay?”

“I thought you were a grownup, too.”

“Right now, I don’t feel like one,” she said, and her voice broke, and suddenly she began crying.

“Honey,” he said, “honey, please...”

“Jesus, Dad, why’d you...?”

“Honey, honey,” he said, and pulled his chair closer to hers, and took her in his arms.

“Why’d you have to do this?” she said, sobbing. “Why are you doing this?”

“Because I love her,” he said.

“I thought you loved Mom.”

“I did.”

“I thought you loved me.”

“I still do, darling.”

“Does Mom want this divorce?”

“I don’t suppose she does.”

“So that leaves only you and this woman who want it.”

“I guess so.”

“What did Grandma say about it?”

“She said I should do whatever makes me happiest.”

“Grandma said that? Jesus!”

“Honey, this has nothing to do with anyone but your mother and me. This isn’t something we take a vote on.”

“I want a vote!” she said, and began sobbing again, pressing her face against the rough fabric of his jacket, her nose running, the tears streaming down her face, her shoulders heaving uncontrollably. “I have feelings too, you know,” she said, sobbing.

“I know that, darling.”

“I know you’re a man in your own right...”