The old man's voice kept droning. He was reading from something: “Yes, there is this daughter of 'ours.' I love her very much, but I think she will be better off with you, Edward. She has become a confident and happy girl, it seems to me. I hope my leaving won’t change that. She didn’t get it from me, so must I be there to insure it?
"For so long I have postponed living my life, and now I have a chance.
"Please forgive me. Don’t try to get in touch with me.
"With gratitude,
Jaya”
Edward Neuendorfer sounded as if he were holding back tears as he read the letter over the phone to Edwina. It had been a while since they’d talked, and this call was not well-timed. Edwina was at work, in the middle of a demonstration, unable to focus, even though the words being said were all about HER.
Why hadn’t he told her before? Was he becoming senile? He was now in his 80s, and her stepmother Eileen had probably been doting on him as usual. Was he sick? He didn’t sound right. After asking him to hold on a minute, Edwina at last escaped to her office and shut the door.
“It’s not a good time, Dad. You wouldn’t believe what’s been happening-- you might have seen it on the news? An old lady fell off our roof. It was awful.”
“I DID see it on the news. That’s what made me call. I was going to ask how you were handling it, but then I thought I’d also better tell you about this letter.”
“Why haven’t you told me about it before NOW?” Edwina had a vision of Orville at their dinner out, trying to explain himself.
“I’m sorry. I guess I was hurt, at the time. And I wanted to distract you. I delayed. Then I forgot. Then I met Eileen. Your mother and I were never married, I’ve told you that. I took her in when she was pregnant with you, I’ve told you that, too.”
Had he told her? If so, Edwina had not taken it seriously. “So did SHE tell me, once, as if it were a fairy tale! I didn’t know she was talking about herself and me. I pretended to understand. Dad, I thought she was dead. I really did.” One of her thoughts.
“I never told you that, Edwina. Never.”
“OK.” Edwina was angry now. She did not want to think about the aftermath of her mother’s departure. This letter stuff was not suitable for a phone conversation. They should be having lunch now, as they used to do before she married Orrie and moved to this awful city, and he should be SHOWING her this letter! He MUST be sick. “Are you SICK, Dad? Where are you calling from?”
‘I’m at the house in Knoxville, hon. But yes, I’m not well.”
“What do you mean?!”
“I’m in hospice, at home.”
“Noooo!” Edwina’s compulsion to stay busy was not protecting her now. There was nothing in her office to rearrange, clean, or describe in a notebook. For the second time in as many days, she screamed. A knock on the door ensued, and a student’s voice: “Ms. Campion! Are you OK?”
Placida had decided. She’d appear without the beard, but keep the bulky sweater. Edwina could take it or leave it. Perhaps Placida could say that she was “non-binary” by way of an excuse. Apparently it was acceptable to appear one day as female, the next as male, if you’d declared yourself non-binary. As a counselor, she had to be up to date and conversant with all that. But what was acceptable in New Haven might not be in Tennessee. And what was acceptable in a progressive high school might not be acceptable in a professional therapeutic situation. But she’d put Edwina to the test. (Just saying that to herself, Placida wondered if she wanted to punish Edwina for having brought out certain feelings in her. For being young and beautiful. Everything had to be analyzed, wondered about, in this business. It was tiresome.)
Of course she would say nothing about her night with the man whom she was certain was Edwina’s brother-in-law, but she was half-hoping Edwina might mention him.
The “Admit” button appeared. Placida pressed it. Edwina came into view looking gaunt, a bruise color under her eyes. Her hair was messy, even for her very-short haircut.
“PLACIDO! You’ve shaved! Oh, my! Oh, Placido, you don’t know what’s been going on! It’s all too much. Thank GOD you’re here!” And then the dark-haired, olive-skinned, youngish little woman in a lab coat began to shake with sobs, something she’d not done before in these sessions.
— Macoff
"For so long I have postponed living my life, and now I have a chance.
"Please forgive me. Don’t try to get in touch with me.
"With gratitude,
Jaya”
Edward Neuendorfer sounded as if he were holding back tears as he read the letter over the phone to Edwina. It had been a while since they’d talked, and this call was not well-timed. Edwina was at work, in the middle of a demonstration, unable to focus, even though the words being said were all about HER.
Why hadn’t he told her before? Was he becoming senile? He was now in his 80s, and her stepmother Eileen had probably been doting on him as usual. Was he sick? He didn’t sound right. After asking him to hold on a minute, Edwina at last escaped to her office and shut the door.
“It’s not a good time, Dad. You wouldn’t believe what’s been happening-- you might have seen it on the news? An old lady fell off our roof. It was awful.”
“I DID see it on the news. That’s what made me call. I was going to ask how you were handling it, but then I thought I’d also better tell you about this letter.”
“Why haven’t you told me about it before NOW?” Edwina had a vision of Orville at their dinner out, trying to explain himself.
“I’m sorry. I guess I was hurt, at the time. And I wanted to distract you. I delayed. Then I forgot. Then I met Eileen. Your mother and I were never married, I’ve told you that. I took her in when she was pregnant with you, I’ve told you that, too.”
Had he told her? If so, Edwina had not taken it seriously. “So did SHE tell me, once, as if it were a fairy tale! I didn’t know she was talking about herself and me. I pretended to understand. Dad, I thought she was dead. I really did.” One of her thoughts.
“I never told you that, Edwina. Never.”
“OK.” Edwina was angry now. She did not want to think about the aftermath of her mother’s departure. This letter stuff was not suitable for a phone conversation. They should be having lunch now, as they used to do before she married Orrie and moved to this awful city, and he should be SHOWING her this letter! He MUST be sick. “Are you SICK, Dad? Where are you calling from?”
‘I’m at the house in Knoxville, hon. But yes, I’m not well.”
“What do you mean?!”
“I’m in hospice, at home.”
“Noooo!” Edwina’s compulsion to stay busy was not protecting her now. There was nothing in her office to rearrange, clean, or describe in a notebook. For the second time in as many days, she screamed. A knock on the door ensued, and a student’s voice: “Ms. Campion! Are you OK?”
Placida had decided. She’d appear without the beard, but keep the bulky sweater. Edwina could take it or leave it. Perhaps Placida could say that she was “non-binary” by way of an excuse. Apparently it was acceptable to appear one day as female, the next as male, if you’d declared yourself non-binary. As a counselor, she had to be up to date and conversant with all that. But what was acceptable in New Haven might not be in Tennessee. And what was acceptable in a progressive high school might not be acceptable in a professional therapeutic situation. But she’d put Edwina to the test. (Just saying that to herself, Placida wondered if she wanted to punish Edwina for having brought out certain feelings in her. For being young and beautiful. Everything had to be analyzed, wondered about, in this business. It was tiresome.)
Of course she would say nothing about her night with the man whom she was certain was Edwina’s brother-in-law, but she was half-hoping Edwina might mention him.
The “Admit” button appeared. Placida pressed it. Edwina came into view looking gaunt, a bruise color under her eyes. Her hair was messy, even for her very-short haircut.
“PLACIDO! You’ve shaved! Oh, my! Oh, Placido, you don’t know what’s been going on! It’s all too much. Thank GOD you’re here!” And then the dark-haired, olive-skinned, youngish little woman in a lab coat began to shake with sobs, something she’d not done before in these sessions.
— Macoff
One old lady dies. Another one appears in the shadows. This is like degrees of separation stuff — how is everybody going to wind up enmeshed? I’m going to work on a diagram of connections. I hope the solar install is back on track — that Edwina didn’t flip some irrational switch over it. (But that she answers her phone while teaching … another black mark for our heroine)
ReplyDeleteShe is not teaching. Just giving a demo. She is a lab assistant/instructor, not a professor.
DeleteEdwina's mother was only 15 when she got pregnant and was taken in by the man she calls her father, who was 50 at the time. They did not have an ordinary marriage relationship for years, and even then, it wasn't ordinary, just intermittent. Edwina's mother would now be 33+16.
DeleteYES, the solar install is back on track! Absolutely. Ted would not let something like that prevent him from finishing this job, which he'd been planning for a while. Also, Aaron is fine. There were witnesses.
DeleteYour writing is so polished. Every section. Every time.
ReplyDelete