Эд Макбейн - Love, Dad

Your loving daughter,

P.S. Happy birthday!

July 22, 1971

Dear Lissie:

I can’t say I’m tickled. Neither is your mother. I called her the minute I got your letter, and we discussed this completely, and it seems to us that you’d only be running off again, shirking your real responsibility, which is to become an educated, self-respecting and — one day — self-supporting woman. Asking me to pay for an art school in India, where you would be studying yoga and Hindu and Buddhist painting and whatnot is not my idea of a sound preparation for the future. If you choose to make this decision, then please understand that your tuition and expenses will be your own responsibility. Before you leave for India, if indeed that is your choice, I hope you will have enough money to get you there, to keep you there safely and well, and to get you back home when you choose to return. I really thought you would have had enough of India by now, Lissie. I hear the crabs there are the size of the cockroaches in the apartment you just left.

Love,

July 25, 1971

Dear Dad,

I was extremely disturbed by your last letter. I was under the impression that my education would be paid for until I graduated, no matter where or what I chose to study. That is my understanding of the settlement agreement. If I am mistaken, please correct me and I will adapt to this situation. But if I am correct, then I honestly feel you should reconsider your position. The settlement you signed is binding in the laws of your society, particularly if it is signed by both partners in a dissolving marriage. That is what a law student here in Boston, a former law student, told me.

In other words, I consider your agreement to send me to school until I graduate a valid and binding contract and if you will not respect this agreement then I will begin thinking of you in an entirely radically different light, and I will also consider taking action to compensate me for my loss. Please allow me to continue my trust in you. This shit depresses me.

Love,

July 29, 1971

Dear Lissie:

Croft’s First Law. Never — and I mean never — threaten to sue your own father. I hate to upset your karma this way, but I think there are some things you should understand, and I’ll try to explain them as briefly and as fully as I can. The first thing you should know is that I am well aware of my responsibilities, as I’ve always been. I don’t need legal threats (and will not stand for them in the future) from a daughter whose welfare has always been a matter of great concern to me.

Secondly, your understanding of what constitutes a college or a university or a legitimate course of study seems to be in conflict with mine. I am flatly saying “no” to your studying art in India, unless you pay for it yourself. A few flower pressings and collages aside, this is the first I’m hearing about a talent no one seems to have noticed or commented on before, and I certainly do not intend to encourage it at my expense.

One day you are going to learn that the laws of “my” society are the laws of “your” society as well, and that you can’t run off to Timbuktu to escape them or your problems. I love you a great deal, but legal threats from daughters are for Gothic novels, not real life. You could just as easily have come in here and held a pistol to my head. The effect would have been quite the same. I have no desire to discuss the matter further.

Love,

August 4, 1971

Dear Dad:

Since you seem so positive about not financing my further studies in India, then perhaps you would like to consider an alternate proposition. Marjorie Kildare is still in Bombay, and I’ve been corresponding with her, and we think we now know the sort of things we can buy to make a business work here in America. Three hundred dollars would be enough for me to do what I have to do. The Icelandic air fare (this is tourist on propeller-driven plane) is only $182.40, which means once I get the $300, I’d have $117.60 left over for investment. We plan to start with fifty dollars each, like we did last time, which will give us a total of a hundred dollars, more than enough to buy a variety of things, all very legal, which we will then send back to another friend of mine here in Boston, for selling here to the better stores. Buying the goods is the important thing, and I will do that with Marjorie in India, and then use my share of the profits to study art with Sondra. Sparky will be doing his own thing over there, so you don’t need to worry that any of the money you send will find its way into his pocket.

So now you see my plan and my motive. I’m trying to make an all-important, well-thought-out stab for my final break. My own life is before me, and I’m ready to start. I will be glad to hear and respect your thoughts. You are still my father, and with that honor you have my love and respect. But I’m in control now and very excited, and it really doesn’t matter if you like my plan, it will happen anyway. Love to everyone who cares to hear it.

Your daughter,

August 9, 1971

Dear Lissie:

The answer is still no.

Love,

She called her mother at once to complain, asking Connie for her interpretation of the separation agreement, arguing that studying in India was the same as studying any place else, wasn’t it? Connie told her she agreed completely with the interpretation Jamie had made, and then went on to say that studying art in India was hardly what she expected of a daughter as intelligent as Lissie was (Here we go with the Vassar shit again, Lissie thought), a person who should instead be taking advantage of the many opportunities currently available to young women all over the United States.

“Well, that’s not the point,” Lissie said.

“What is the point, Liss?”

“The point is, if I’m such an intelligent young woman, as you say...”

“Yes, you are, Liss.”

“Then I should be able to make up my own mind about what I want to do and where I want to do it.”

“Not with your father’s money,” Connie said.

“What do you mean? When did you all at once get to be on his side?”

“This isn’t a war,” Connie said.

“I don’t see you refusing his money,” Lissie said. “Those alimony checks that come in every...”

“That’s quite another matter,” Connie said.

“How’s it any different?”

“I was his wife,” Connie said.

“And I’m his daughter.”

“You’re still his daughter. I’m no longer his wife. The alimony is small enough compensation for...”

“You’ll always be his wife,” Lissie said. “You can’t just chalk off...”

“You’re wrong,” Connie said. “It’s over and done with. He’s made a new life for himself, and that’s exactly what I intend to do.”

“Talk about fast recoveries,” Lissie said.

“Lissie, this is very difficult for me. Please don’t make it any harder than it has to be.”

“Are you crying?” Lissie asked.

“No, I’m not crying.”

“You sound...”

“I’m not crying, Lissie. Would you like it better if I were?”

“Well, no, of course not.”

“In fact, I’m feeling pretty good about myself these days. I’ve cut my hair, I’ve bought myself a new wardrobe. I’m going to Europe sometime in October...”

“Europe?”

“Yes.”

“Aloner?”

“Lissie, you sometimes say things that are much funnier than you realize they are. Yes, alone. Europe. In October. Alone.”

“Well... gee,” Lissie said.

“Honey, I have some people coming for dinner tonight, I’ve really got to get things started. Can we continue this conversation tomorrow?”