Эд Макбейн - Love, Dad

“I am.”

“... what you said before, but here’s a situation that’s suddenly thrust upon me...”

“Yes, I’m sorry for that. But, Lissie, you had to be told sooner or later, and your mother and I thought this would be the best way.”

“Without my knowledge, I mean all of this was happening without my knowledge.”

“That’s true.”

“I have plans of my own, you know.”

“There’s no reason for you to change any of your plans.”

“Where will I live?”

“That’s a strange question, coming from you, Lissie,” he said, and brushed her hair away from her face, and smiled.

“I mean... where will home be?”

“Wherever you want it to be.”

“I want it to be where it’s always been,” she said, and began sobbing again. “With you and Mom.”

“That isn’t possible anymore, Lissie.”

“It could be possible. If you just told Mom...”

“No, I don’t want to do that.”

“I want to see Mom,” she said, sobbing. “I want to go to California. Can you give me some money to get to California?”

“Yes, if that’s what you want.”

“Life goes on, I know that.”

“Yes, Lissie, it really does.”

“It’s just... I’m going to need time to get used to this. I’d like to go to California, is that all right? Would you mind if I went out there to see Mom?”

“If that’s what you want.”

“It’s what I want. Could we go to the airport now?”

“What?”

“I’d like to go now. I have Aunt Janet’s address, I’d like to pack and catch a plane as soon as I can, and go out there to see Mom.”

“Lissie, don’t you think you should give this a few days, talk to her on the phone, see if she wants you out there in...”

“No,” she said flatly. “I want to go now.”

He looked at her.

“Okay,” he said, and sighed.

“Good,” she said, and nodded, and then sniffed, and wiped her hand across her nose, and went into the bedroom to pack.

April 12, 1971

Dear Dad,

It was very nice of you to call out here yesterday to wish me a happy Easter, but I think if you had known beforehand what anguish it would cause Mom, then maybe you wouldn’t have done it. I have now had a lot of time to talk to her and to get her viewpoint on what you plan to do, and I am more than ever convinced that it is not the right thing, Dad. You are absolutely destroying her, Dad, and I don’t think you realize that. She is a woman of forty, she was just forty last week, as you well know, and you are leaving her to take care of herself after twenty years of marriage, it was twenty years in February, Dad. Are you sure you really want to do this?

Are you sure you want to destroy a woman who has loved you all these years, and destroy your family as well? I did not think you were that kind of a person, Dad. I hope I am right about you, and that you will reconsider and perhaps give Mom a call here to discuss it. I know your attorneys frown upon private communication, but that seems extremely silly to me, especially when there is so much at stake here. So if you feel like calling Mom to discuss this, why don’t you? I’m sure she would be receptive. You know Aunt Janet’s number, but please remember that there’s a three-hour time difference out here, three hours behind New York. When it’s noon in New York, it’s only 9:00 A.M. out here.

We spent a very quiet and lovely Easter together here with Aunt Janet and Uncle Dave and the boys, and were just sitting down to dinner when your phone call came. When Mom realized who it was, she burst into tears, and it took us an hour to get her back to herself again. Holidays are a very bad time, I guess you know that, Dad. Or maybe you don’t, since you’ve got Joanna whereas Mom and I have no one. We are spending a lot of time on the beach together, getting to know each other all over again. She is really a fine and wonderful person, and I’m so proud to have her for one of my parents. The weather here has been wonderful these past few weeks, sunny and in the mid-seventies. Mom has rented a car while she’s here, and we’re using it to full advantage, driving wherever the mood takes us, all up and down the Pacific Coast Highway, and chattering away to each other all the while.

I’m not sure exactly when I’ll be back in Boston. Mom plans to leave here in a few weeks, and then she will go back to Rutledge. It’s her plan to rent the house after the divorce and find a small apartment in New York. It will be very difficult for her to live in Rutledge with the shame of everyone knowing you left her for another woman. Well, that will pass, I suppose. Still, it will be better for her to be in New York, and maybe I’ll go back when she does, and try to help her find an apartment. Or maybe I’ll run up to San Francisco first to see my friend Barbara Duggan, who is back from Europe and who is now living with this very nice boy she met in London. Anyway, there are a lot of options open. Please call me out here to say hello, and at the same time, if there’s anything you might feel like saying to Mom, you could do it then. Shanti.

Your daughter,

April 20, 1971

Dear Lissie:

I’m sending this to you at the address you gave me when you called from San Francisco, and I’m hoping you’re still out there with Barbara and haven’t yet started east. I am writing to tell you that the lawyers feel a settlement won’t be reached until next month sometime, but at least your mother and I have agreed that one of us will go down immediately afterward to Haiti or the Dominican Republic for what is virtually an overnight decree.

Considering the fact that Joanna and I plan to get married as soon after that as we can (we’re hoping it will be June sometime), I really think it is time you met. Do you think you will be back by the first of May? We would love to have you spend the weekend with us. Please say yes, Lissie, as this is very important to me.

Love,

May 6, 1971

Dear Dad,

I’m sorry I haven’t been in touch with you, especially about your invitation to come see you last week, but there were things I had to work out, and I decided to come here to Boston instead, which has always been a city that’s been good to me, and try to make some sense of what has happened to my life. I do have a life of my own, you know, and whereas I can understand how important it must have seemed to you for me to meet the woman you plan to marry, it was a bit more important that I come here instead to work out my own future, which has been thrown into such a turmoil by changes I had no part in making, just as Mom’s future has been.

Mom told me on the phone last week that she expects to be signing the separation agreement on the twentieth, and will be going down to Haiti that weekend to get the divorce. She tells me this is the way she wants it, her going down there instead of you. I guess this is her way of taking the curse off the shame you have caused her. Well, this seems a pretty abrupt way of ending a twenty-year marriage, don’t you think, Dad? I still hope you know what you’re doing with your own life and with the lives of those who love you deeply.

I don’t think I’ll be coming down to New York anytime soon, though I may be going to Rutledge to spend some time with Mom after she gets back from Haiti. I have a feeling she is going to need me. Please do not hesitate to write to me at the address on the envelope, which is where I expect to be for the next couple of months. I want you to know that I love you and think about you often. Keep the good faith.

Your daughter,

P.S. The address is Sparky’s new one. I am still living with him. I know you never liked him, Dad, but I want you to know that I plan to continue our relationship. He is the most meaningful person in my life just now.