Page 24 of One Last Night

“Like what? I was agreeing with you.”

“Like calling Mom ‘Mother’ and Dad ‘Father.’ Walking with your purse held in front of you like that. Wearing hats when you go out.”

Heat climbs my cheeks. “What does that have to do with anything? I was sympathizing with you. Mother is very hard to deal with, and Father’s not much better lately. I understand how being around them might make you want to leave.”

“Why does it have to be about them? That’s another thing you do. You make everything about me about them. I want to study music, and it’s because Dad doesn’t want me to. I want to take a gap year, and it’s because Mom says that only losers takegap years. I have an American accent, and it’s because Dad prefers a British one.”

“I never said it’s about them. I just… A lot of what children do is because of their parents’ influence, whether positive or negative.”

“So I can’t do anything for myself? I can’t just want something without it being a reaction to them?”

“Of course you can. I’m only saying... Why are we arguing? I wasagreeingwith you!”

“So why are you a prissy, intellectual, proper English gentlewoman who wears gloves when she drives and sips her tea in a china cup? Is it because Mom’s a drunk English housewife who lounges around in sweatpants all day and drinks gin like most people drink water? Are you just rebelling against her and becoming the ideal Englishwoman?”

My face is flaming now. She’s very clumsy with her analysis, of course, but she’s not entirely off the mark, and that exacerbates my anger. “I’m not going to do this again. Everything’s an argument with you lately. You have such a problem with people who don’t believe exactly the same thing you do. No, Annie, I don’t want to leave. I like Boston. I will sensibly live here in sensible Boston and sensibly travel from time to time. I’ll go to the theater on weekends and I’ll have wine and chocolate with my other sensible friends and titter about everyone’s gossip, and you know what? I’ll be happy. I’ll be so much happier than you because instead of bemoaning the life I live, I’ll enjoy it.”

“Oh, good for you. Congratulations, Mary. You settled.”

“And you gave up.”

She flinches. “What?”

Elation rushes through me, as it does whenever I have an argument with Annie and get to her with something. I lift my chin and repeat. “You gave up. A long time ago. It’s like yousaid earlier. You think about leaving all the time, but you’ll never do anything about it. You’ll graduate from school and get an ordinary job just like everyone else. You’ll complain about that job. You’ll live in an ordinary apartment and complain about that apartment until you meet an ordinary husband who you’ll complain about all the time. You’ll joke about cheating on him and imagine all of the affairs you’ll never have. You’ll live in an ordinary house and complain about that house.

“And you know what will happen then? You’ll have a child. Maybe even children. And you’ll look at those children and realize finally that it’s too late. You’ll have nowhere to run, not even in your own head. You’ll finally understand that at the end of it all, you were too cowardly to do anything but settle for a safe life. And just like Mother, you will hate those children because they will remind you every day that you trapped yourself in a life you despise because you didn’t have the courage to pursue the life you truly wanted.”

I expect her to slap me then. She’s done it before when we’ve argued like this. We’ve engaged in some true tussles over the years. She usually gets the better of me, but that’s all right. I don’t mind a few scratches and a bruise or two. I’ve won, and she knows it. That victory is sweet enough to overcome any pain I’ve earned.

But she doesn’t slap me. Instead, she nods. “You’re right.”

I almost wished she had slapped me. At least I’d know how to react to that. As it is, I am stunned into absolute silence.

She smiles at me. There’s no humor behind that smile, but there’s no threat either. “You’re probably right. You and I will both end up living painfully ordinary lives, but you’ll be okay with it. You’ll be happy. I envy you that. More than anyone else I’ve ever met, you know how to decorate a cage.”

She leaves the room, carefully avoiding contact with me rather than brushing past me. I remain where I am for a whilebefore I close the door, sit on the edge of the bed, place my head in my hands and weep.

***

Thunder crashes, and my eyes open. Driving rain patterns on the roof and on my window. I remain in bed until the pounding in my heart subsides. It's been a day for the record books. I hallucinate my sister in the park, then dream of an argument we had when we lived together.

The dream, unfortunately, is very real. It's not a new memory, either. That argument took place a year before Annie left. Up until recently, I believed it was one of the very few arguments we'd had, but as the fragments of my memory have returned, I understand now that there were many such arguments, and I also remember that some of those arguments turned violent.

I roll out of bed and dress. I’ve learned from experience that I won’t be able to sleep anymore after a nightmare like that. Since I’m stuck awake, I might as well distract from my own history by focusing on the mystery at hand. Victoria believes that her past indiscretions have led to the suffering her family is experiencing now. It comes across as superstition when I talk to her downstairs, and that very well might be all it is, but these superstitions often have a basis in fact. Perhaps it’s time for me to take a closer look at these diaries and see if there’s a clue that might help me understand what could motivate this sabotage.

I head downstairs, but as I approach the library, I hear Julian’s voice. It seems I’m not the only person woken by the storm. I nearly turn around, but I catch a snippet of conversation that piques my interest.

"Why is this so important to you, Robert? You hate us. Yes, you do. You've been a prick to me every time I see you, you'rerude to my mother, and the most respect you can show the twins is to ignore them. Anytime Luann looks at Kevin, you get all red-faced and huffy like she's some diseased slut determined to corrupt him. Yes, youdo. And what do you hope to gain, anyway? What kind of validation do you get if I come out and say, ‘Yes, this is the way it is.’ You’re sixty-fucking-one years old. Why do you need to hear this bullshit? Why is it so important for you to get this victory?”

There’s a long pause, presumably while Robert responds. I press my ear to the door, eager to hear what Julian has to say. I can’t hear Robert’s side of the conversation, but maybe something Julian says will make it clear what they’re talking about.

After a few minutes, Julian says, “But what do you gain? Think about it. This will ruin both of us. We’re dealing with enough scandal as it is, and let’s just be honest, your reputation’s already shot. You’ve won too many second-rate awards to recover. A personal scandal would be the final nail in your coffin. Is ruining us really worth the consequences to you? To Kevin? Think of the kids. Just please think of the damned kids.”

His footsteps increase in volume. I realize a moment too late that he’s walking toward the door. I push away from the door, but it opens before I can turn around.

Julian stares at me for a moment, blinking in surprise. Then he frowns. “Really, Mary? Now you’re eavesdropping on a private phone call?”

“I… I wasn’t. I didn’t mean to, sir, I was just coming downstairs for a book.”

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