“I think so,” I said. “She could go into a nuthouse.”
“Well, you shouldn’t call it that. Nobody should—and anyway, even if she had to be admitted, it could be for only a while.”
“Doesn’t matter, Daddy. Once she’s in there, everyone will think she’s crazy.”
“Maybe it won’t come to that. Maybe we’ll get Kaylee back, and things will return to normal,” he said.
He wasn’t saying it with any conviction. He was saying it the way parents said a thousand different things to you as you grew up. “Maybe Santa will bring you that for Christmas. . . . Maybe we’ll go to Disneyland next year. . . . Maybe we’ll do that when you’re older.” There were more maybes in life than anything else. Maybes were mostly empty promises designed to make you shut up, stop your complaints, and leave your parents alone.
If I had to compare the two of them as we were growing up, I’d say Mother was more definite or determined about her maybes. Daddy used maybes a lot, especially just before their divorce. It seemed perfectly natural for him to be using another maybe now.
“We have to be concerned for her,” he continued.
“Can’t I just continue pretending along with her that Kaylee is home?” I said. “I’ll set the table that way, and I’ll invent conversations that Mother can overhear, and . . .”
“The danger comes when she stops avoiding the truth, Haylee. The impact, as we already see, could be severe.”
“Severe? You mean . . . she could commit suicide?”
“I don’t know,” he said. “Let’s see what Dr. Jaffe concludes.”
“When is that happening?”
“Next week,” he said.
“That fast?”
“We’d be sorrier if we waited too long, right?” He forced a smile.
We were close to the restaurant now, but I wasn’t thinking about the impression I was going to make on people, especially men, when we entered.
Daddy wasn’t taking me out to cheer me up; he was taking me out to prepare me for more depressing things.
“So you think she’s crazy, right? You always thought that, Daddy.”
“I didn’t think she was crazy, just too fanatical when it came to raising you two. It got in the way of our relationship, but from what I could see, both of you were handling it all well enough and would be okay. This is just something out of the blue that no one could have predicted. We’ll handle it. Together.” He threw me a typical Daddy smile, full of promises and maybes.
“Okay,” I said. It was the automatic answer when we had no choice anyway.
“For now, let’s enjoy a great dinner together,” he said as we drove into the restaurant’s parking lot. “You can tell me all about your love life.”
“My love life?”
He pulled into a space and turned off the engine. There was that smile again. “What’s his name, Ryan Lockhart? I know he’s been coming to see you.”
“Mrs. Lofter’s a little spy, huh?”
“Just very observant. It’s part of her training. It’s all right. Frankly, I’m surprised more of your and Kaylee’s friends don’t come to see you.”
“I’ve been discouraging it for now . . . with Mother and all.”
“Right. But you like this Ryan Lockhart?”
“Oh, he’s just a boy,” I said.
“They’re all just boys, and I remember what that means,” he said, and opened the door.
“Then maybe you’ll tell me what it means, Daddy. Sometimes it’s like navigating through a swamp.”