“Not what’s private and personal between me and...”
“Joanna, right, Joanna. Everything’s private and personal between you and Joanna, with nothing left over for your daughter. What the hell do you see in her, anyway?” Lissie asked abruptly, turning from the mirror. “Would you mind telling me? What the hell did she offer that none of the others did? All I can see...”
“What I see in Joanna is none of...”
“What is it you share with her, Dad? Your enormous ego?”
“My ego? What...?”
“Yes, your goddamn fame and your financial success and your fucking ego, yes! Where the hell’s the substance, Dad? Jesus, don’t you see what I’m saying?”
“No,” he said tightly. “Why don’t you tell me what you’re saying, Liss?”
“Here comes the anger again, right? I can see it in your eyes, I can hear it in your voice.”
“Yes, here comes the anger again,” he said.
“What the hell have you got to be angry about? You’ve moved on to greener pastures, haven’t you? It’s Mom and me who were abandoned.”
“Lissie, I really don’t want to hear...”
“Oh, fuck, who cares what you want to hear? How the hell can you possibly expect me to accept this new family of yours, this fake fucking family you’ve created, when you...”
“Lissie, I think we’d better...”
“Am I supposed to accept Joanna simply because you love her?”
“You’re making it imposs—”
“Why should I communicate with...”
“All right,” he said, and nodded.
“... people who think I’m a worthless shit?”
“All right,” he said again, very quietly, and she fell suddenly silent.
They stood staring at each other.
He took a deep breath.
“How’d you ever get to be this?” he said, almost to himself. “Blame it on the times,” she said, and suddenly and surprisingly smiled.
“No.”
“Then blame it on yourself.”
“I blame it on you,” he said. “You should be ashamed of yourself.”
“For what? For telling you the truth about...?”
“I’m your father!”
“Then why the fuck don’t you try acting like—”
“Damn you, shut up!” he said.
Her eyes opened wide.
“How dare you?” he said. “What else have you got for me in that sewer of a mouth? What else do you expect me to invite, and accept, and apologize for?”
It took her only a moment to recover.
“I don’t have to take this kind of shit from you or anybody else!” she shouted, and slammed the hairbrush down on the dressing table, and then turned and walked out of the room. He heard her moving angrily through the library, heard her hurried footfalls going down the three flights of stairs and across the living room, heard the front door of the house slam as she went out. The last glimpse he had of her was from the bedroom window as she walked past the lighted lamppost outside the house, her blond head ducked against the wind, her tent dress flapping about her legs, her hands thrust deep into the pockets of the fighter-pilot jacket.
She must have written her letter that same Sunday night. It was undated, and written on YWCA stationery. He received it on Tuesday morning. It repeated much of what she had said to him in anger in the empty hours of the night, as though she wished to give her words the final stamp of permanency:
Dear Dad,
You’ve leveled with me, so now I’ll level with you.
I appreciated (and curiously so) your attempt to settle all this, but was immediately insulted by your error in assuming that I am still a child who can be pushed around and led around by the nose. Yes, I am angry with you. You offer many things, oh yes. Gifts and guilt. Everything under the sun except real love. You have never confronted the facts as Mom knows them, and as she has told them to me, you have never admitted that not only were you committing adultery with the woman you later married, but almost certainly with Mrs. Blair as well. You left this family because you were no damn good. Plain and simple. I can see why you don’t like Mom, and honestly why you will never like me. Because we both are reminders of your treachery and betrayal.
Where does that leave us? It leaves your daughter many bad places. It leads me to equate financial success and some measure of fame as being a place devoid of love and responsibility, of endless ego gratification with little real substance. Your daughter does love you as much as her mother, she just doesn’t like you as much. To be blunt, again, my mother’s well-being is of concern to me because we’re in a similar position; we’re both alone and facing the many problems of life. You and I do not share a common position right now. It’s not that I have consciously taken sides. I am simply seeing things clearly and with my own eyes. I am not convinced that the distance between us is the only thing you’re confused about. Mom served you long and well, and you repaid her by abandoning her. I can only believe this was the act of a man who was and probably still is very confused indeed. I’m sincerely glad that you seem to know exactly where you are in this matter, because no one else knows where you are. I am also glad that after screwing around for so long, you married the woman you “loved.” At least you’ve got a family.
There are two reasons why I haven’t accepted your new marriage. First, I had to learn from Mom how long your little romance had been going on. And secondly, I don’t like your new wife, okay? And I will not accept her simply because you love her. I would not accept anything rotten simply because you love it. Anyway, I’m not sure I know what love means in your book. You seem to be a superficial father who gives everything but honesty and love. My instinct tells me to give consolation where it is needed most. You think Mom poisons me against you. But that’s your own poison. It is you who have poisoned me against you. I don’t believe anything you say about the divorce. Anyway, who gives a shit?
Once again, I’m glad you have a new life with a new woman you love. I can’t help but wonder for how long. I am not invited to Mom’s house, I am accepted whenever I choose to go there. I am her blood. You don’t treat blood relatives as guests, and you don’t embarrass them later by telling them about their bad behavior. Family is supposed to be stronger than that. I am me. Take it or leave it! I give you the same love I give Mom, only she — by accepting the real me — offers a more comfortable environment for honesty. Not brainwashing, just honest observation. I love my parents equally, I just don’t like them or respect them equally. It doesn’t matter how generous you are to me, it only matters how honest you are, and you were not honest by going to bed with other women when you were still married to Mom. That was not being honest, that was being a crook! I don’t see how you can possibly talk to me of truth.
There is really nothing for us to talk about and hasn’t been for a long time, even before you started your new family. The reason I broke off with you in the first place was because I ended all relationships that were founded on lies and guilt. So now you know what I really think. I am really curious to see if your heart and your home are as open as you profess now that you get a clear view of Melissa Croft the woman. As always, my heart and my home are really open to you — but not to the members of my “new” family.