Dating Game (5 page)

“But I guess your father has been unhappy for a long time. This isn't a very exciting life for him. Maybe it's been too comfortable, or too boring. Maybe I should have gotten a job once you and Meg got older. Hearing about carpools and how the garden is growing isn't much fun after a while. Anyway, your father has decided,” she said, taking a deep breath, and looking gently at her son, not wanting to let Peter off the hook, but feeling she had to for their son's sake, “that he doesn't want to be married to me anymore. I know that's a shock. It was to me too. But we're going to keep the house, or I am, and you and Meg can come here and live here whenever you want. And the only thing that will be different is that Daddy won't be here.” She didn't even notice, nor did Wim, that she had called him “Daddy” for the first time in years. Wim looked as though he were going into shock.

“Are you serious? He's leaving us? What happened? Did you guys have a big fight over something?” He had never known them to do that before, and they never had. They had never come close to this in all their years together. There had never been more than a few ruffled feathers, and hardly ever any harsh words. Wim looked as stunned as she had been at what she had just told him.

“He's not leaving you,” Paris said carefully. “He's leaving me. He feels this is something he has to do.” As she said it, her lip trembled, and she started to cry again. And Wim came around the table to put his arms around her. And when she looked up, she saw that he was crying too.

“God, Mom, I'm so sorry. Was he mad about something? Do you think he'll change his mind?” She hesitated for a long moment, wishing she could answer differently, but she knew she couldn't. Barring a miracle, Peter wouldn't be coming home to her again.

“I wish he would,” she said honestly, “but I don't think he will. I think he's made up his mind.”

“Are you getting a divorce?” he asked through tears, looking like a little kid again, as they clung to each other, and he hovered over her.

“That's what he wants.” She choked out the words as Wim wiped his eyes and stood up.

“That sucks. Why would he do a thing like that?” It didn't even occur to him that there might be another woman in his father's life, and Paris did not volunteer. If Rachel stuck around, and she assumed she would, Wim would find out soon enough. That part of it was up to Peter to explain, and she wondered how he would, without looking like a bastard to his children.

“I guess people change sometimes. They grow apart without even knowing it. I should have seen how he was feeling, but I didn't.”

“When did he tell you?” he asked, looking devastated, and still trying to understand what had happened. It wasn't easy for either of them, and the worst part was that there had been no warning.

“Friday night, after our dinner party.”

“That's why you both looked like that on Saturday morning. I thought you were hung over.” He grinned, and Paris looked moderately insulted.

“Have you ever seen either of us hung over?”

“No, but I figured there's always a first time. You looked awful. And then you said you had the flu when I saw you later.” And then he thought of something. “Does Meg know?” His mother shook her head. She still had that to go through, and dreaded telling her on the phone. But Meg had no plans to come home all summer. They had to tell her.

“I'm going to call her.” She'd been thinking of doing it that night, and now that she had told Wim, she knew she had to. “I'll call her later.”

“Do you want me to tell her?” Wim offered generously, and was silently angry at his father that he hadn't come home to break the news to him in person. He thought that was lousy of him, but didn't say it to his mother. The truth was, Peter couldn't face it and was relieved to leave that grim duty to Paris. Telling her had been more than enough drama for him for one weekend. And he knew she'd do a good job of it with the kids. And whatever she said that he didn't like, he could always clean up later. He was used to having her take full responsibility for their children, no matter how heavy a burden it was for her this time.

“You don't have to do that,” Paris said, looking at him gratefully, just for the offer to call his sister, “that's my job.” She wanted to be the one to tell her daughter.

“Okay, then I'll cook dinner.” It suddenly occurred to Wim that there was no one to take care of his mother now, and when he left for college, she would be alone in Greenwich. He couldn't believe his father had done that to her, it seemed so unlike him, and tarnished him as Wim's hero. He had another thought then as he took out lettuce and tomatoes and some cold chicken. “Do you want me not to go to Berkeley, Mom?” He had been accepted at a number of eastern schools, who would probably still be happy to have him. He had only just accepted Berkeley and hadn't even responded yet to some of the others. He had been planning to do it that weekend, and hadn't.

“I want you to do exactly what you wanted to do, before all this happened. If your father really goes through with the divorce, then I just have to get used to it. You can't sit here and take care of me forever.” That was the frightening part. She had been lying in bed, thinking about it all weekend. She was on her own now. Forever. And even more so, once Wim left for college. It had been comforting having him stick his head in her doorway all weekend. At least it was another human being in the house, and he loved her. That was the most terrifying thought of all now. Wondering who would be there for her if she got sick, or something happened to her. Who was going to care about her? Who would even know if she was sick? Who would she go to movies with, or laugh with? What if no one ever kissed her again, or made love to her? What if she was truly alone forever? The prospect of all of it was so huge as to be beyond understanding. The reality of it was devastating. Even Wim seemed to understand that. Why didn't Peter?

She sat in the kitchen, trying to make small talk with Wim while he made their dinner, and when he put the chicken and salad on their plates, they both pushed it around without eating. “I'm sorry, sweetheart,” she said apologetically. “I'm not very hungry.”

“That's okay, Mom. Are you going to call Meg now?” He wanted her to, so he could talk to his older sister about it. They had always been close, and he wanted to know what she thought, and if she thought there was a chance their father might come to his senses. Wim still couldn't understand it. Maybe she would have some insights. He hoped so. He had never seen their mother like this, and it scared him. She looked as though she had a terminal illness.

“I guess so,” Paris said sadly, and finally dragged herself upstairs to call her while Wim put the dishes in the dishwasher. She wanted to be alone when she called her daughter. Not that she was going to tell her anything different than she had told Wim, but she didn't want an audience while she did it.

Meg answered on the second ring, and she sounded in good spirits. She had just come home from a weekend in Santa Barbara, and told her mother she had a new boyfriend. She said he was an actor.

“Are you alone, sweetheart, or do you want me to call later?” Paris asked, trying to put some life in her voice, so she didn't sound as dead as she was feeling.

“I'm alone, Mom. Why? Do you have something to tell me?” She sounded as though she thought it was funny, and couldn't imagine what her mother was going to tell her. And a moment later, she could imagine it even less. She was almost shrieking when she responded. She felt as though their entire family had been gunned down in a drive-by shooting. “Are you kidding? Is he crazy? What is he doing, Mom? Do you think he means it?” She was more angry, than sad or frightened. But if she had seen her mother's face, she might have had the same sense of terror Wim had. With her uncombed hair and black circles under her eyes, their mother looked scary.

“Yes, I do think he means it,” Paris said honestly.

“Why?” And then there was a long silence. “Is he seeing another woman?” She was older and more worldly wise than her brother. In her months in Hollywood, she had been approached by several married men, and the same thing had happened to her before that. Although she couldn't imagine her father cheating on her mother. But she couldn't imagine him divorcing her either. This was crazy.

Paris didn't want to confirm or deny it, about another woman. “I'm sure your father has his reasons. He said that he felt like he was dead here. And he wants more excitement in his life than I can give him. I guess it's not very exciting coming home to Greenwich every night and listening to me talk about the garden,” Paris said, feeling humiliated and disheartened, and responsible somehow for the boredom he felt while he was with her. She realized now that she should have gotten a job years before and done something more interesting with her life, like Rachel. She had won him in the end because she was more exciting. And younger. Much, much younger. It cut Paris to the quick to think about it, and made her feel old and unattractive and boring.

“Don't be stupid, Mom. You're a lot more fun than Dad is, you always have been. I don't understand what happened. Did he say anything before this?” Meg was trying to make sense of it, but there was no sense to make, it was what he wanted. Rachel was what he wanted. Not Paris. But Meg had no clue about it.

“He never said anything until Friday night,” Paris said, relieved to be talking to her daughter. Between her and Wim and their unfailing support, she felt a fraction better than she had all weekend. And at least neither of them had blamed her. She had been afraid that they might, thinking she had done something dreadful to their father. But Meg was very clear about her feelings, and where to put the blame. She was furious with her father.

“He sounds like a nutcase. Will he go to counseling with you?”

“Maybe. Not to put the marriage back together. He said he'd only go if it would help me adjust to his divorcing me. Not to save the marriage.”

“He's crazy,” Meg said bluntly, wishing she were at home with her mother and brother. She hated being this far away at a time of crisis. “Where is he? Did he tell you?”

“He said he was going to stay at a hotel in the city, and he'd call me tomorrow about the details. He wants me to use one of his lawyers.” It was more than she had told Wim, but Meg was older, and of considerable comfort. Her outrage somehow made Paris feel more human. “I suppose he must be at the Regency. He usually stays there, if he's in town, because it's close to the office.”

“I want to call him. Was he planning to tell me, or did he just expect you to do it?” Meg was both heartbroken and fuming, but her anger kept all the other emotions she felt from coming to the surface. She hadn't even begun to deal with the loss and grief yet. Wim, possibly because he was younger and could see the state his mother was in, was more frightened.

“He knew I'd tell you. I think that was easier for him,” Paris said sadly.

“How's Wim doing?” Meg asked, sounding worried.

“He cooked me dinner. Poor kid, I've been in bed all weekend.”

“Mom,” her daughter said sternly, “you can't let this destroy you. I know it must be tough, and it's been a terrible shock. But weird things happen. He could have died too. I'm glad he didn't. Sometimes people just go crazy. I think he did. I don't know why, but this doesn't sound like him. I thought you guys would be married forever.”

“So did I,” Paris said, as tears stung her eyes again. She felt as though she hadn't stopped crying since Friday. “I don't know what to do now. What am I going to do for the rest of my life without him?” She started to sob then, and it was half an hour later before Meg asked to talk to her brother. When he got on the line, Paris got off, and the two siblings talked to each other for an hour. Their conclusion at the end of it was that their father had gone temporarily insane, and hopefully would recover. Wim still had some faint hope that he would come to his senses. Meg was less certain, and she was still wondering about another woman.

She called the Regency after she hung up, but he wasn't registered there, and she tried several other hotels, and never found him. He was of course staying with Rachel, but none of them knew that. And she got up at six o'clock the next morning to call him at nine New York time, in his office.

“What's going on, Dad?” she asked, for openers, hoping to get him to tell her honestly what had happened. “I didn't know you and Mom were having problems.” She tried to sound sane and rational, and not accusatory, so he would talk to her. But he seemed more than willing, and surprisingly honest.

“We weren't,” he said fairly. “I am. How is she? Did you talk to her?” But he knew she had, since she had called him to inquire about their “problems.”

“She sounds terrible.” Meg didn't pull any punches, and wanted him to feel guilty. He deserved to. “Did you just have a fit or something, and fly off the handle?” But that wasn't like him either.

He sighed before he answered his daughter. “I've thought about this for a long time, Meg. I guess I was wrong not to say anything to her sooner. I thought I might feel differently if I waited, but I don't. This is just something I need to do, for me. I feel like I'm buried alive with her in Greenwich, and my life is over.”

“Then get an apartment in New York, and move. Both of you. You don't have to divorce her.” She was beginning to feel hopeful. Maybe there was a solution, and she felt as though she owed it to her mother to help him find it. Maybe he would actually listen to her.

“I can't stay married to her, Meg. I'm not in love with her anymore. I know that's awful to say, but it's honest.” Her hopes were dashed in an instant.

“Did you tell her that?” Meg held her breath as she waited, realizing the full weight of the blow her mother had taken. It was beyond thinking.

“As tactfully as I could. But I had to be honest with her. I'm not going to put our marriage back together. I wanted her to know that.”

“Oh. Now what? Where do you both go from here?” She was fishing, but not brave enough to ask yet. She felt sick for her mother. This was not what she deserved after twenty-four years of marriage.

“I don't know, Meg. She'll find someone eventually. She's a beautiful woman. It probably won't take long.” It was an incredibly insensitive, cavalier thing to say, and Meg wanted to hit him for it.