Shadow of the Son, page 28
“When I saw the marks on her body, I wondered how this could have happened. How could she have allowed it? How could I have let it? She told me everything, and I was shocked again. I could not possibly report it. The repercussions for doing so would have been far worse than keeping silent. It was up to me to do what I could. I contacted this man who was responsible, but I was utterly ill-prepared for what I found. It was like being struck by lightning. Everything I had learned, but never believed possible, was true, and my world upended. I pray it never happens to you, but I fear it has already. It’s the reason I am here, but once again I’ve gotten ahead of myself.”
She looked at me as if to confirm what in her heart she already knew.
I said, “We’ve never had the chance to speak of these things until now. We may not have this chance again. Please continue.”
She smiled, and as she did, the smile moved to her eyes. I saw for a moment what she must have looked like when she was young. If my father had struck her with lightning, she must have done the same to him.
“I’ve always wanted to tell you. We’re both old enough to appreciate that life can take unexpected turns—that love and fortune can sneak up and assault us from behind when least expected. I was in control of my life when I rang that peculiar bell to his flat, but in the brief span of time it took for him to let me in and me to step inside, everything changed. The man who stood there before me was all a man could be. I suppose it was my imagination, what I put there, that carried me off. Some people can tease out of us our dreams, and when we look at them, that is what we see. He did that to me, and I was filled with the heat of anticipation and possibility. I didn’t see the danger then, only the blessing. Looking back, it is hard to imagine I would ever be so struck, but the world was a brighter place back then. The future lay in the far distance, and anything was possible. I’m speaking like a girl, but that is who I was back then. I could talk anyone into anything and loved all that was beautiful. He was beautiful, and we were beautiful together. In that second, I willingly and knowingly surrendered to his enchantment and my fate, but then, after a time of the most exquisite bliss, I missed my period. From that moment, the dreams I’d built began to crash down in slow motion like the breaking of a giant stained-glass window as it falls upon the marble steps of a cathedral. What was left after the fall was a gaping hole through which I could hear the screams of those inside, one of whom was me.”
She seemed to come back to the present. “Am I saying too much, Percy? I’m sorry if I am. I talk this way sometimes. It’s not becoming, but then the story and what I was doing isn’t either.”
This was a side of my mother I had never seen or ever imagined possible. I realized then that it wasn’t my father I took after, but my mother. In an instant I understood her. She was just like me.
I said, “Maybe it wasn’t becoming, but I’m glad you’re telling me.”
She nodded. “I thought my pregnancy was a curse back then, brought about by all the joy I felt, and all the suffering I’d let happen. I didn’t see it coming, but that doesn’t mean I wasn’t warned. The future will always find us. It’s why a curse will live there. It’s another name for the price that we must pay. In the end, there’s nothing to be done but to pay it, but what do we pay it with? Do you know the answer?”
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“I’m not sure I do.”
“There are only two types of coins in our pockets, Percy—joy and sorrow. Either one is legal tender. We have a choice as to which we use to pay what is demanded—perhaps it is the only choice we have.”
She paused.
“Always pay with joy, Percy. It’s what I decided in the end, after I let you go. Had I continued to pay with sorrow, I would have drowned in the ocean of my tears.”
She looked at me as if to see if I believed her. “Your father refused to marry me. I was devastated—ruined. I really was. He wouldn’t, or he couldn’t. I would have done so gladly. He had his own curses to deal with, I suppose. We call them issues now. They weren’t mine. They may be yours. He will tell you about them, or he won’t, but that’s his story, not mine.
“After his refusal and the ensuing wreck that was my life, it was Anne who picked up the pieces of what little of me was left. By doing so, I think she healed herself. My affair with your father had lasted for some time. I had been careful but obviously not careful enough. After a while, my situation could not be avoided. I told Anne everything, and by doing that, Anne realized that what had happened to her was not entirely of her making; and by seeing that, she recognized that I wasn’t completely to blame either. It strengthened the bond between us, and so she went to work.
“Hugo, although I was engaged to him, would not suffice. It was a matter of timing, and what the child might look like—you being that child. It would have raised too many questions followed by too many answers that might be nearer to the truth. That would have been disastrous, knowing Hugo’s temperament. Anne is quick. She doesn’t always look it, nor is it her desire to appear that way. She remembers everything, and she recalled a man who at a distance looked like he could pass for your father. She saw the look in his eyes when he stared in my direction and unbeknownst to me, arranged to meet him at a café. There, she told him that if he should want me, he had but one chance and one chance only. He had to travel to Austria and be at the train station at a specific time and place. This he promised to do. On that train, there was a spark of sorts between us, but I was lost within myself. We were in the dining car when Thomas went off to grab the three of us a table. Anne whipped me around to face her and hissed. ‘Don’t fool with him. Set the hook and be done. This is business, not pleasure. Do it now, or I will slap you right where you stand, so help me God!’
“Coming from Anne, who was always so polite, this was a shock, but had she not done that, I would have come up with some excuse to avoid what I had to do. Left to my own devices, I would have wallowed in my hurt while grasping the weight that grew inside me. I knew that without her, I would have held it all the way down into the cold and dark, until the possibility of reaching the surface far above was no longer possible.”
My mother looked down at her hands and said nothing. I waited. I noted that without Anne I would likely not be sitting here.
I said, “We have much to thank Anne for, for being in our lives.”
She looked up. “Oh, yes. I thanked her in the only way I could, but that was later, not then. Now, I see my life more clearly. Hugo was the dream, your father the reality. Thomas was the compromise. He was and is more than that word might indicate. You do not know him as well as perhaps you should. Never underestimate a good compromise, Percy. A good one can be far more useful and life-sustaining than settling only for one’s dreams. Over time I grew to appreciate him. He learned the truth about me. I told him everything on that train. It was my last chance to sabotage my life and continue my descent. I spared no detail of my many faults. To my surprise, he accepted all with open arms and tender kisses. Then he told me about himself.
“Shining knights in armor are only men underneath, and Thomas was a man. I was amused by the tales of his many escapades and conquests. Then Anne met John. I saw what flashed between them and knew at once that my troubles were far from over. In fact, they seemed to breed unchecked at every turn. Motivated by a thirst for vengeance, John’s mother had singled out Thomas for what he’d done to her, and by my marrying him, you and I were added to that list. The three of us became fugitives, hunted and harassed by a woman with almost unlimited resources at her disposal. We should have been extinguished, but we weren’t. Someone intervened.”
She stopped and fished out another cigarette from the pack on the table.
In the pause to light it, I asked, “Who was that?”
She blew out smoke and said, “Fortuna.”
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“Fortuna?”
“The Roman goddess of Fortune. She is often depicted at a wheel, and as Ovid said, she always has its apex beneath her swaying foot. Those in power fear her, but those less fortunate can sometimes find themselves revolving upward to a better place.”
She smoked and looked at me again as if deciding what to say or how.
She continued. “Life after you were born was hard. We fled the United States to Europe. We moved about a lot. For five long years, we struggled. My parents, your grandparents, had died, and what money I had inherited was gone. Thomas couldn’t seem to hold a job. He always ended up dismissed. It may not have been his fault. He blamed John’s mother. He continued to search for a position while I cared for you. We settled for a time in London with what little cash was left, since Thomas thought that he could get work there. Do you remember that?”
“I remember little of my early life, other than that we moved around a lot. London was a dark city. We lived in a single room. There were no curtains.”
“London was singularly bleak. I was at my wit’s end. Everything hopeful would fall to pieces. On those few days that I could escape to be by myself and recover, I would wander the aisles of Fortnum & Mason and do some window shopping. I couldn’t afford to buy, but at least I knew where to shop, and I could dream. Dreams cost nothing, even now.
“One such afternoon, I failed to look where I was going and ran smack into Hugo, and Hugo, not looking where he was going, ran smack into me. So surprised were we at seeing each other that we both jumped back. I bumped into the shelf behind me, and a bottle of olive oil wobbled and fell. Feeling so much emotion and adrenaline at seeing Hugo, I bent down quickly to catch it before it broke. Hugo did the same. Our heads collided. The violence of it caused me to see stars. We staggered into each other’s arms—me to keep from falling down, and he to catch me. We could say nothing other than look at each other and gape. At last, Hugo said it was his fault and invited me to tea. I accepted. He asked where I might wish to go. I told him the Ritz. ‘Why not,’ I thought, and off we went.
“In the taxi I almost vomited. My head throbbed. I had lost a glove. I barely knew where I was when I began to cry. Hugo told the driver to head to the Connaught instead. By the time I was in his room, I was sobbing like something out of a Greek tragedy. All that came out of my mouth was how sorry I was. How very sorry. How very, very sorry. I could not stop. He laid me on his bed and sat on the edge looking at me. I cried like I have never cried before, like I’ve never cried since. I cried for the lost love, the lost dreams, the grim poverty that threatened all of us, but most of all, for the pity that was me. All those backlogged tears came out at once. In time, I cried myself to sleep. When I awoke, it was dark, and I was alone. I got up and went to the bathroom to make myself look like someone other than a madwoman. Afterward, opening the bedroom door, I entered the living portion of his suite, and there he was, sitting in a chair with hands clasped together looking at the carpet, waiting for me.
“He looked up and bade me sit. He arose, made two drinks, and handed me one. He sat down across from me while I sipped and cupped the glass with both hands. ‘Tell me,’ he said. ‘I want to hear everything.’
“And so I told him everything, except who your father was. What prevented me I do not know, but that piece of information I refused to say. I couldn’t. Hugo insisted I tell him, but I told him that his knowing would not change my circumstances. When I had finished, he asked how he might contact me and noted it down. He told me that he would see what he could do and said that it was time that I get home. He arose and picked up my purse, slipped in some bank notes, gathered my coat, and walked me to the door.
“Before he opened it, he turned and said, ‘It is well that you did not tell me his name. I would have had to hunt him down and kill him, and then where would we be? There was a time when I would have done anything to have prevented those tears, but now that they’ve been shed, leave them here with me.… Among them you will likely find my own. It’s time for us to go our separate ways. I have a family of my own now, just like you.’
“That was the last I saw of him until last night.”
She looked away and said softly, “The brand of olive oil that dropped was called Fortuna, by the way. I still use it.”
By the time she turned back, she was herself. I smiled to reassure her. “I’ll remember that brand in the future. Seeing Hugo after all that time must have been difficult for you and for him.”
She sighed. “Those rounds of drinking last night, and what followed, surely helped. I owe Hugo a great debt and would never do anything to cause him further pain, although I’m sorry to say that my presence at the table did that. Such meetings bring back memories, and from there, it is but a short step to wondering what might have been. In truth, I doubt I could have served him as well as Elsa has. I am smart, but she is as brilliant as the gems she wore last night. Hugo is a most decent man, and she is blessed for having married him, but that veneer can slip when he feels cornered.”
“Does he feel cornered?”
“He does, I think. It is one of the reasons I am here.”
“One among several, it seems.”
“But no less important. It’s time to settle accounts, and there are several that are in arrears, mine included.”
“I see. Do you feel you owe him?”
“I know I do. He not only helped financially, but it was shortly after our unexpected meeting that I met Alice. She knocked on the door to our tiny flat one overcast morning. Thomas had taken you to the park. I opened the door, not expecting her. I looked like something the cat dragged in, only we didn’t have a cat. The chain of events that had led to her standing there that morning is unclear. Hugo was the initial cause. He told John. Soon after, there she was, a picture of elegance and poise. I have never experienced such embarrassment and humiliation as when I opened that door and saw her standing there. I knew who she was. What prevented me from slamming it in her face and howling in my pain and protest at the picture I presented was a peculiar mix of pride and helplessness. I was beyond embarrassed. So much so that I felt myself beginning to reel. When she said that she knew who your father was, I dropped to the floor. My secret was out in the world for all to know, and because it was, I was undone.
“I came back to myself lying on the bed with a compress on my forehead. Alice had the kettle on. I must have made a sound, because she looked at me across the room. She said as if she knew the reason for my collapse, ‘This place is a palace compared to some I’ve known. The world hasn’t ended. Other than Anne, John, and the father, I’m the only one who knows. I have a proposal for you. My name is Alice, by the way, but I suppose you know that. May I call you Mary?’ ”
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“Once I was somewhat recovered, she said, ‘In war, you must be able to maneuver. You cannot do that looking after Percy.’ She told me that Anne and John had wanted a brother or sister for Johnny ever since he was born, but there were issues at his birth. Anne could not have another, and she blamed herself. By doing what she proposed, I could help Anne, and she could help me. She told me that the choice she offered was a difficult one, but that I should consider it. She said that she would return tomorrow at the same time for my answer. I agreed and saw her to the door.
“Later, I sat at the little table, weighing which was the lesser evil. By giving you up, there might be peace, but in exchange I would always carry a guilt that only a mother can appreciate. By refusing, I would have a semblance of self-respect but nothing more.”
She paused and looked at me as if to see if I understood.
“That was a hard choice. You did the best you could under the circumstances.”
“It was a difficult decision. With hindsight, it may appear obvious which was the better choice, but at that time, given my mental state, it was anything but.”
She smoked. “We eventually became good friends, Alice and I, but that took time. Giving you up was painful, and one sometimes blames the messenger. When Thomas and you returned, I told him about the visit. He was ecstatic and said, ‘Mary, this is a gift. I cannot feel for your child in the way that you do. That’s impossible, regardless of whether I am the father, which I’m not. I think this may be our opportunity. Please think on it. I will do and support whatever you think best.’
“His enthusiasm was all too much. All I felt was outrage at my circumstances. To give you up was to confess my own inadequacy, not only as a mother, but as a person. I told Thomas to mind you, grabbed my coat, and walked out the door. I had asked for none of this, least of all my squalor, and a reality that was killing me. I was born with a thousand advantages that apparently counted for nothing in this world. It was outrageous. Needing rescue was more so. It was insufferable. I stomped my way toward the river. I needed help, that was clear, but it was my desire for it and my need that I hated most. It shouted weakness. When all one has is pride, it’s hard to surrender it, and I couldn’t. I wouldn’t. I told myself that over and over, such was my inner rage.”
She smoked and blew it out toward the ceiling before she continued.
“Not a minute later, I watched a woman no older than I walk in front of a number ten bus. She closed her eyes before she took that fatal step. I saw her scrunch them shut. There’s always a lower rung on the ladder of our lives, and that was hers. I was shocked by what she did and the pooling of her blood beneath her as she lay in a heap on the street. She was me, not then, but soon—perhaps very soon. That realization, and all that blood, shook me utterly. I decided in that instant that if I were to be anything other than her, I could at least keep my eyes from screwing shut. I could do that. It was the tiniest thing, the least possible, but once decided, I saw that ever since my pregnancy, and the subsequent erosion of my dreams, I’d been closing not only my eyes but everything about myself. To live, if that is what I really wanted, I had to let life in, and so I surrendered to my living. In that moment, I understood what life was telling me—begging me, in fact—to see the world as alive with possibility and, most of all, surprise, both good and bad. I had been surprised by Hugo, Alice, and this unknown woman—three times in as many weeks. I wondered what might happen next, and with that thought, I had a future.
