Эд Макбейн - Love, Dad

It wasn’t until the beginning of June that she went to meet the woman her father was about to marry. She went to the New York apartment only because the wedding had been set for the end of the month, and she knew she would have to attend, and felt it might be less awkward if she met Joanna Berkowitz beforehand. Otherwise, she had no interest whatever in the woman her father had chosen to replace her mother.

Late afternoon sunlight reflected in the upper-story windows of the brownstones as she walked up East Sixty-fifth Street, searching for the address her father had given her on the phone two days earlier. She was wearing a wide flapping tent dress printed with a paisley design, and knee-length red socks tucked into workman’s high-topped shoes. When she’d left Boston early this morning, her landlady said, “You look like Katrinka, miss.” She didn’t know who Katrinka was, but the landlady was smiling so she took it for a compliment.

She found the address in the middle of the block, a three-story brownstone with green drapes showing in the ground-floor windows. She took a deep breath, climbed the front steps to a door the same color as the drapes, and rang the brass bell set into the frame. She could hear nothing beyond the thick front door. She rang the bell again, and almost before she took her finger off the pushbutton, the door jerked open.

The woman standing there, smiling out at her, was truly beautiful, taller even than Lissie was, with straight blond hair falling to her shoulders and framing an oval face with lovely blue eyes and a patrician nose sprinkled with freckles that spilled over onto one cheek. Extending both hands to her, smiling radiantly, she said, “Lissie? Please come in,” and took Lissie’s hand between both her own, and urged her gently into a living room dominated by a huge fireplace. Her father was sitting in a chair near the hearth. He got to his feet at once. Smiling, he came toward Lissie.

They hugged. He kissed her on the cheek, she returned his kisses. They hugged again. She broke away gently and he went to hang her shoulder bag on a wall peg inside the front door. Everything seemed to be moving in slow motion, her father turning from where he’d hung the bag, June sunlight streaming through the frosted glass panel above the front door, touching his face and his hands, his words coming from his mouth as though at a wrong speed on a broken turntable, he was asking her if she wanted anything to drink and the woman behind him, the beautiful woman named Joanna was saying Lissie might prefer some pot instead, would you like some pot, Liss?

“No, thanks,” Lissie said.

“Something to drink then?” her father said.

“If you have some Scotch...”

“Yes, sure.”

“With a little soda.”

As her father went out to mix the drink, she marveled that only a moment ago this beautiful woman with whom she was now alone had offered her grass! Did her father smoke grass in the privacy of his little Blond Bimbo’s boudoir? That was what her mother called Joanna: “Your father’s Little Blond Bimbo.”

“How was the weather up in Boston?” Joanna asked.

“Hot,” Lissie said. Oh, great, she thought, we’re going to talk about the weather. “This is a nice place,” she said.

“Thank you.”

“Have you got the whole house, or what?”

“Yes,” Joanna said. “Dining room, kitchen and guest room on the second floor, our bedroom on the third.”

Our bedroom, Lissie thought. You cheap cunt.

“Everything all right in here?” Jamie asked, coming down the stairs with the fingers of both hands spread around three tall glasses. “Lissie?” he said. “Yours is the one on the outside here, you want to just take it? Ah, thank you, honey. Joanna, here’s the two cents plain,” he said, handing her the second glass. He lifted his own glass. “Here’s to all of us,” he said.

“I’m not supposed to toast with this,” Joanna said.

“Why not?” Jamie asked.

“Nonalcoholic.”

“What’s two cents plain, anyway?” Lissie asked.

“Seltzer water,” Joanna said. “Don’t you know the story about Harry Golden and his books?”

“No. Who’s Harry Golden?”

“A writer,” Joanna said. “He had a big hit with his first book, which was called Only in America, and then he wrote another one called For Two Cents Plain, which didn’t do as well, and then a third one called Enjoy, Enjoy! which did even worse, and finally someone suggested to his editor that the next one should be called Enough Already!” Joanna laughed and Jamie laughed with her. Lissie sipped at her Scotch. “Those are all Jewish expressions,” Joanna explained, and shrugged.

“You’re Jewish, right?” Lissie said.

“Yes. Uh-huh.”

“There was a kid at Brenner named Berkowitz, Carol Berkowitz. Do you know anybody by that name?”

“No, I’m sorry.”

“I thought she might have been related.”

“It’s a common name.”

“She was a pain in the ass, anyway,” Lissie said.

“Maybe she is related, after all,” Joanna said, and laughed.

“How long will you be staying, Lissie?” Jamie asked.

“What do you mean? Here in the city, do you mean?”

“Yes. With us, actually. If you like.”

“My bag’s already at Mom’s.”

“Oh.”

“She’s all alone in the new apartment, I thought I’d spend a few days with her.”

“Well, fine, fine,” Jamie said. He nodded, glanced at Joanna, and then took a swallow of his drink. “Are you hungry, Liss? I made a dinner reservation for seven-thirty, but if you’re getting hungry...”

“I already told Mom I’d be having dinner with her.”

“Oh,” he said. “Well, I guess I’ll... uh... have to... uh... change the reservation. I’ll do that later,” he said, as if talking to himself aloud. “Meantime, let’s catch up on what we’ve been doing, it’s been a long time, Liss. How’d you like California?”

“It was fine.”

There was a silence.

“You’re still seeing Sparky, huh?”

“Well, I really don’t want to discuss that, Dad.”

“I was just wondering whether or not he’ll be coming to the wedding.”

“No, I don’t think so.”

“He’s more than welcome.”

“I’ll be coming alone.”

“But you are seeing him, is that right?”

“What difference can that possibly make to you?”

“Well, your... your life is of some interest to me, Lissie. I guess you realize your happiness...”

“Uh-huh.”

“It is, darling.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Would anyone like some cheese puffs?” Joanna said, pushing herself up out of her chair. “I’ll put some in the oven.” She smiled at Lissie, patted Jamie’s shoulder as she passed his chair, and then moved swiftly out of the living room and up the stairs.

“She’s very pretty,” Lissie said.

“Thank you,” Jamie said.

“So,” Lissie said.

“So,” Jamie said.

“Where’s the wedding going to be?”

“In Rutledge.”

“You’re not getting married in church, are you?”

“No, no.”

“Then where?”

“At the Kreugers’ house.”

“I didn’t know they were such good friends of yours.”

“They’re not, really. They’re repaying a kindness, Lissie.”

“Uh-huh. To who?”

“Well, to me.”

“But not to Mom.”

“No. Not to your mother.”

“I wish you wouldn’t keep calling her ‘your mother,’ Dad. She’s still Mom to me, okay? You can still call her Mom, it won’t threaten anything you’ve...”

“Lissie...”

“Aw, shit,” Lissie said, and shook her head, and took another swallow of Scotch. “So that’s who you’re marrying, huh?”