She Has Your Eyes (8 page)

“You had no right to move forward on this after we agreed to leave well enough alone,” said Janine. “It’s bad enough my daughter contacted you behind my back in the first place.”

David shot back, “And you had no right to keep the possibility that I had a daughter from me fifteen years ago.”

“Well, you’ve got another thing coming if you think you’re gonna come in here and run the show from now on,” she said, getting more combative by the minute. In any other social situation I would’ve gone English geek on her and told her that the correct expression was “you’ve got another
think
coming,” followed by a history of said expression, and otherwise useless information. And how or why such a triviality popped into my head at that moment, I had no idea.

“I have no intention of interfering with anything,” David insisted. “But we all had a right to know—you and your husband, Andi and me, and Wylie.”

Wylie, however, misunderstood him. “What, you want nothing to do with me?” she asked, insulted.

“Of course I do,” said David to her. “I very much want to get to know you. But this needs to be a family decision—
your
family,” he quickly clarified.

Peter Baker sat stoic and silent, seeming to size up David and me—especially David—and I couldn’t help but wonder if he was contemplating whether he could (or perhaps should) kick David’s ass. He looked to be a blue-collar guy, an electrician or something, and although David had several inches on him in height, I probably would’ve put my money on Peter.

He didn’t seem to be a bad person, however, or a bad father. This had to feel like a sucker punch to him, or worse.

I asked to use the bathroom. Peter pointed past me and gave me directions, speaking in fragments. I went and splashed some cold water on my face, looking in the mirror as I dried off.
I could hear Janine and David lobbing back and forth, but I was unable to make out the words.
Holy shit, is this going to be your life from now on?
I thought, inquiring of my reflection and awaiting her response. But she, too, was clueless. When I came out of the bathroom, Wylie ambushed me.

“You have got to talk some sense into them,” she demanded. “Tell them I deserve to have a relationship with my father—my
real
father. Tell them I have rights.”

“It isn’t my place,” I replied. “It’s David’s and your mom’s and dad’s.”

“You mean my stepdad,” she said.

“Was he always your stepdad? I mean, is that how you always referred to him and your sister?”

“No. Not until I found out he wasn’t my real father.”

I inadvertently let out a sigh. “Look, Wylie. Is your stepdad a jerk or something? Because he seems like a perfectly decent guy to me.”

“He’s fine,” she said. “I mean, I don’t hate him or anything like that.”

“Do you love him?” I asked.

“Sure.”

“It seems to me that he loves you too. I’m sure that he thinks of you as a daughter rather than a stepdaughter. That’s what’s
real
. Have you considered that maybe your eagerness to know David is hurting your dad’s feelings?”

Wylie considered this, seemingly for the first time. “I don’t wanna hurt his feelings, and I do love him, but he’s just not… like, he doesn’t
get
me.”

“Most parents don’t,” I said, subscribing to the John Hughes theory of adolescence. “My mother certainly didn’t get me when I was your age.”

Ugh. I couldn’t believe I just used the phrase “when I was your age.”

Wylie seemed just as disgusted with it. “I just wanna get to know him, that’s all.”

“OK,” I said, and together we returned to the living room. The discussion halted when we entered, and I piped up. “May I make a suggestion?”

All heads turned to me, and I instantly felt self-conscious.

“This is all overwhelming,” I said, stating the obvious, “and I think we need some time to process it. Our lives have just been turned upside down in the blink of an eye. The important thing is not to get caught up in reacting to all the anxiety and uncertainty this is stirring up. We’ve all got to get to a place where we can make proactive choices, and I don’t think any of us are ready to do that right now.”

God, was I channeling my former shrink, or what? It was a testament to how much my coping skills had improved in the last four years.

“Andi’s right,” David said, looking at me, beaming with pride. My heart swelled.

Peter spoke up. “I agree. Maybe we should all just chill out and revisit the situation in a week.” He too had a Long Island accent. It’d been a long time since I’d heard that accent on a regular basis, David’s and my own having diminished somewhat over the years living in New England.

David nodded. “Fine by me.”

Wylie also nodded. “I’m cool with that.”

We all looked at Janine, who raised her arms in surrender. “What choice do I have?”

David and I left the Bakers around ten o’clock that night, both of us mentally and physically exhausted, and even though
we lived an hour away I suggested we stay in Connecticut rather than drive back to Massachusetts.

“Why?” asked David.

“Because you’re either going to be in your head the entire time and the silence will drive me nuts, or you’ll be so distracted that you’ll get into an accident.” I didn’t tell him my other reason.

He conceded and we checked into a Marriott, and while David took a shower I took out my cell phone and dialed my mother’s number. She answered on the second ring.

“Hello, Andi,” she said matter-of-factly, as if she were in the room with me. And before I could say hello, I burst into tears.

“I need you, Mom,” I cried. I couldn’t remember having ever said those words to her.

chapter twelve

I rented a car and took the Bridgeport ferry to Port Jefferson on Long Island the next morning while David drove back to Northampton alone. David had wanted to come with me, but I insisted my mother would be easier to deal with one-on-one. However, the truth was that I wanted to confide in her and not just break the news.

We met at Danford’s for lunch. Always one to make an impeccable appearance, she was dressed in black slacks, a pristine white blouse, and a Chanel red suit jacket. Her hair, styled in the same silver bob she’d worn for years, had grown out since I last saw her over the summer. However, she looked gaunt. Her cheeks looked pale and sunken, even with makeup.

“You OK, Mom?” I asked when we were seated at our table. “You look like you’ve lost weight.”

“I’m on a diet,” she said, perusing her menu.

“You’ve never been an ounce overweight in your life.”

“Doctor wants me to cut down on a few things,” she said, and resumed exploring her food options. My mother always refused to commit to conversation until the business of ordering was out of the way.

She ordered the seafood Cobb salad and a glass of wine (what was she cutting out? I wondered). I ordered the chicken portobello and water with lemon in a wineglass.

“So what’s got you so upset, Andrea?” she asked. “You and David having problems?”

I sipped my water. “Everything’s great with David. Better than great. We’re talking about marriage.”

Mom raised her eyebrows. “Well, it’s about time. What took you so long?”

I shot her an annoyed look. “You know what took me so long. Death of a spouse ain’t exactly a
West Wing
episode, where someone says ‘What’s next?’ ”

“It’s clear that you love David. And given that Sam is gone, what’s to stop you from being happy?”

“You of all people should know the answer to that. Look—” I cut off the conversation. “There’s something else. Something… unexpected.”

Mom was about to take a sip of wine and put down her glass. “Oh, God, you’re not pregnant, are you?”

“No!” I said, darting my eyes to see if anyone overheard her.

“Because at your age…”

“I’m not pregnant, Mom. But…,” I started, and took in a breath. “David has a child.”

She looked at me, shell-shocked. “Say that again?”

“David has a child. A daughter, actually.”

She turned angry. “You’ve been back together for less than a year. Did he cheat on you, or did this happen while you two were apart? Either way…”

“No! No, no, no, it’s not like that. She’s fifteen. It happened before he and I met. He didn’t even know. We both found out on Labor Day.”

“What kind of woman doesn’t tell a man that he has a child?”

“I don’t think it’s our place to judge her, Mom.”

She looked away for a moment, processing the revelation. “A daughter…,” she said, her voice trailing off. Then she looked back at me. “How did you find out?”

“She showed up on our doorstep—the daughter, I mean. Her name is Wylie.”

“I assume he got himself tested to find out for sure?”

I nodded. “He did. They’re sure.”

“My God, Andi. What are you going to do about it?”

“That’s why I called you. To ask for advice. I mean, I don’t think there’s anything I can do but be supportive, but I’m afraid.”

“Of what?”

I paused to answer the question. “I don’t know. I mean, this changes everything. I’m afraid it’s going to change
us
somehow. And I have no idea how to be a mother to a teenage girl.”

“Assuming you’re going to be. Does the girl want to live with you or something?”

“I don’t think so. Besides, her mother wouldn’t permit it even if she did. We haven’t talked about any of this yet. We all just met last night in Hartford. That’s where they live.”

“You’d better tell David to get a lawyer,” said Mom.

“He’s already on it,” I said.

“I don’t know what kind of advice I could give you,” she said after our food arrived. “It’s not like your father ever came home with an illegitimate daughter.”

Something about the word
illegitimate
rubbed me the wrong way. It sounded so politically incorrect, so 1950s. As if Wylie were less than.

“She is not illegitimate,” I argued. “She’s your average suburban teenager with parents who love her very much and have given her a good home. And she just wants to know who her biological father is. More to the point, I think she’s at the age where she’s trying to find out who
she
is.”

My mother took a sip of wine.

I continued, “I just don’t want to have the same relationship with her that you and I had. I want to do it differently.”

“Is this when you once again blame me for everything that went wrong in your life?”

Geez. Why,
why
couldn’t my mother and I talk to each other, after all these years?

“I’m done with that, Mom. Let it go a long time ago. But you know as well as I do that we didn’t do it right.”

“Then why would you want my advice if I was so horrible at being a mother to you?”

“You weren’t horrible. You did the best you could at the time. I respect you and want us to be better at this. I really want to know what you think, Mom. I’m finally happy again and I’m afraid of losing it. And I’m afraid I’ll fall off the edge like I did when I lost Sam. How do I keep that from happening?”

I caught a glimpse of her eyes—they were glassy. She quickly averted her gaze and focused on her salad as she poked her fork into the lettuce and took a mouthful. Then she finished chewing and dabbed the edge of her mouth with the cloth napkin before returning it to her lap.

“I haven’t the slightest idea how to help you, Andi. I’m sorry.” She took another bite of salad and pointed to my plate with her fork. “You’re not going to eat that?”

I shook my head. “I’ll ask them to wrap it up.”

We spent the rest of the meal forcing stilted small talk. Mom only got through half of her salad before asking the server to wrap up the remains. She insisted on paying the bill, and we left Danford’s and returned to Main Street, walking along the sidewalk and passing the shops and boutiques, taking a peek inside. Pretending everything was OK.

The ferry loomed in the near distance, inching toward the dock.

“I’d better get going,” I said. “I don’t want to be home too late. David’s having a hard time with all of this, as I’m sure you can imagine.”

“Are you both sure this girl is his?”

I nodded. “DNA doesn’t lie. And you should see her, Mom. She has his eyes.”

She became wistful. I guessed she was thinking about my father. She always believed I took after his side of the family when it came to my own looks.

“Andi, I’m sorry I wasn’t a good mother to you.”

Without warning, the little girl in me pushed her pain and abandonment to the surface, and I felt the sting of tears threatening to escape. I blinked them away quickly. “You lost the love of your life,” I said. “In more ways than one.”

“I’ll think about the daughter situation and try to come up with something helpful.”

Her effort spoke volumes. “Thank you, Mom.” I leaned in to hug her. The gesture was often one that we both tried to get out of the way as quickly as possible, but this time she received my embrace and returned it. I could feel her hands on my back, pushing in a bit.

“Tell David I said hello. And don’t wait too long to marry him. You of all people know how precious time is.”

“OK,” I said.