Misty (Wildflowers 1)

"I'm no psychiatrist,' he said, 'but my guess is she fell in love with someone else.'

"'What? Who?' I quickly asked. Mommy had a lover all this time, I thought. Where was I?

"'Herself,' he said. 'If there was ever a case of narcissism, she's got it. You ever wonder why our house has so many mirrors? There is hardly a wall, a corner, a space without a mirror on it or near it so she can check her face and hair and be sure she didn't age a day. She's obsessed with it. It's madness.

"'Whenever I told her she needed professional help, she went into a rage.'

"'You were unfaithful to her, Daddy,' I said. 'I even heard you admit it.'

"I really felt like jumping up and running out of the restaurant. It hurt to hear him say such nasty things about Mommy and it always hurt when she said nasty things about him. I usually end up defending the one who isn't present. Doctor Marlowe and I have spoken about this a lot. I feel I have to do it, but I hate doing it. I hate it!"

The others all wore faces of understanding. I took a deep breath. Once again I felt like a coiled fuse attached to a time bomb. Sooner or later, I would explode.

"'Now you know why. A man has needs,' he said.

"He started to play with his food, move it around on the plate with his fork as he spoke.

"'It isn't easy to be married to someone like that, Misty. Whatever compliment you give her is not good enough, and if you don't remember to say something about her appearance, you're immediately accused of not loving her anymore. I found myself defending myself constantly. It got so I hated to come home. Of course, I wanted to be there for you,' he said quickly, 'but it wasn't easy.'

"'So you went looking for someone else?' I asked him.

"'You want to know what I told my therapist?' he asked.

"I was afraid to hear it, but I nodded.

"'I told him I was married but I was lonely. He said under the circumstances it was understandable.'

"He was very quiet for a long moment. Then he put his fork down with a clunk on the plate and said, 'Please, let's not talk about it anymore. Maybe now she'll go and get some professional help. Let's just talk about you.'

"What I thought was, how can we talk about me and not about you and Mommy, Daddy? Where am I in all this? But I didn't ask it or say it. For the remainder of the lunch, he made all sorts of promises about things he was going to do with me. It was funny how when he and Mommy were together, these promises were never made. Maybe if we had all done some of these things together, we would still be a family, I thought, and Mommy wouldn't have any psychological problems. I was floundering in the world of adult quicksand. It was better to step out quickly.

"He drove me home, but of course he wouldn't come into the house. I was glad of that because I didn't want him to see how much that had belonged or related to him Mommy had already sold or given away. We made a date for me to go to his apartment and spend the weekend in two weeks and he drove off. I couldn't help but wonder what he felt driving up to the house that had been his home for so many years and treating it like just another house.

"You know those magic slates you write on and then you pick up the plastic sheet and everything disappears?" I asked the others. They nodded. "That's what I thought Daddy's mind was like now.

"The moment I entered the house, my mother pounced. It was like she had been waiting behind the doorway to the living room, just listening for my return. There she was, her hands on her hips, her eyes wide and wild, her lips stretched thin into a sinister smile.

"'Well?' she asked. 'How was your little lunch with your daddy? Did he bother to show up?'

"'He was late, but he was there,' I said.

"'Late. Typical. Was he alone?' she followed quickly,"or did he have the audacity to bring his girlfriend along?'

"'He was alone.'

"I wanted to run away from her, charge up the stairs and slam the door of my room closed so hard it would never open again, but she practically leaped into my path.

"'What did he say about me?' she demanded.

"I felt like a tight wire being pulled by both of them, stretched so taut I expected to break any moment. "'Nothing,' I said. 'He just talked about his work and what things he hoped he and I would do together.' "Mommy looked at me with her eyes narrowed into slits of suspicion.

"'He's got you lying for him,' she accused.

"I was never a good liar, nothing like Charles Allen, for example, and no one knew that better than my mother, but I was really trying to avoid a bitter, ugly scene.

"'No, he hasn't,' I cried.

"She smirked and nodded, disbelieving me, her eyes turning into dark pools of accusations. Brittle as thin glass, her laughter tinkled.