DeBeers 03 Twisted Roots Read online

  "Why? He can come out and go places." I said sharply. "We take him to restaurants, don't we? Why can't we bring him to a maternity ward?"

  She scrunched her nose like she had just sipped some sour milk.

  "I don't think it's a good idea to bring him to hospitals of any kind. Hannah. He doesn't feel good about that. Too many unhappy and unpleasant memories from his time in clinics and such. Why do that to him?" she asked.

  "We leave him out of too many things," I complained. She smiled. "He's not being left out."

  "Yes, he is," I insisted.

  No one stands up for Linden like you do. Hannah. That's very nice."

  "He doesn't have anyone but us," I said. "He's not related to Miguel and you're very busy. He's always saying you don't visit him as much as you used to visit him."

  She shook her head. "He doesn't remember when I do.'' "Yes, he does." I insisted.

  "All right, honey, all right. Don't get yourself so upset about it. We won't leave Uncle Linden out of anything. I promise."

  "I don't know why he's still in that place. He paints beautiful things. People buy them! He doesn't bother anyone. Why don't we just have him came home and live with us? Our house is certainly big enough, even with a new baby. We have rooms that have been shut up for as long as I can remember."

  He does well where he is. Hannah. Everything is organized for him, and he doesn't have to be reminded of bad memories, memories that made him sick."

  "You have said that often before. Mommy, but I still don't understand what that means. What bad memories? What's in our house that would remind him of them anyway?"

  She closed her eyes and let her head sink back on the pillow. The nurse came in to check her blood pressure and see how she was doing. Mommy introduced me to her. and I could see by the expression an her face that she was surprised my mother had a child as old as I was. Anyone looking at the two of us could see that I was really her daughter, too. She hadn't married Miguel and inherited me. We had the same nose and mouth.

  My eyes were my father's blue, but my hair was Mommy's light brunette shade. I had a slightly darker complexion. I was about an inch or so taller than she was, and I had a fuller figure. Some of my girlfriends were jealous of that. but I always wished I was more diminutive even though they thought I would be more attractive to most boys.

  I've had boyfriends on and off since the ninth grade, but no one I would drool over or suffer heartbreak over when we went our separate ways, no one until this year. His name was Heyden Reynolds, and he was a new student in our school and very much a loner. Massy said he was weird and blamed it an his having a mother whose family came from Haiti and a father who was white and from New Orleans, His father was a musician with a jazz band and traveled a great deal. He had a fourteen-year-old sister. Elisha, who attended a regular public school, but being he was a talented songwriter and guitar player, Heyden came to our magnet school when he moved to West Palm Beach. He came every day on an old moped that other students teased him about, but he didn't seem to care.

  I had spoken to him only a few times. but I sang with him once in vocal class, and the way he looked at me afterward made me tingle inside. I thought he was handsome with his caramel complexion and his dark, curly hair, strong mouth, and black pearl eyes. He was lean and tall like Miguel. I didn't find him weird because of his standoffish manner. I found him mysterious and a lot more interesting than the other boys in the school.

  As soon as the nurse left Mommy's room. Mommy turned back to me. I didn't think she was going to say anything more about Uncle Linden. She never liked to talk about him all that much, especially with me, but she surprised me.

  "Your uncle Linden has a hate-love relationship with Joya del Mar. Hannah. When you were little, we brought him around often, but he literally trembled as we drove through the gates each and every time."

  "Why?" I asked. intrigued. She had never told me anything like this.

  You know he and my mother used to live in the beach house after my mother's stepfather practically bankrupted my grandmother Jackie Lee. It was difficult and sad for Linden to be forced to move out of his home and live in an apartment under the help's quarters. It made him bitter and he resented the Eatons."

  "But you brought them back to the main house and paid off the debts. You fixed everything," I said.

  She started to smile and stopped.

  "Fixed," she said as if it pained her tongue. "Hardly that. Hannah. It was true that thanks to my father. I had inherited enough money and property to bail out my mother and Linden from their debts and make it possible for all of us to return to the main house. but I was also a foolish, impressionable young girl who allowed your father to charm and beguile me with his elegance and his promises. Even with your uncle Linden's mental turmoil and difficulties, he was wiser about your father than I was. I should have listened to him."

  "If he was so wise and you were becoming a psychologist, why did he end up in a mental clinic?"

  She took a deep breath. Was I being selfish by making her talk when she was tired and weak from giving birth? I couldn't help it. It was as if she were finally opening a door to a secret room, a room I had wanted to peer inside all my life.

  "You know that his father. Kirby Scott, seduced and performed what amounted to rape of mine and Linden's mother, Linden had a very difficult and confused upbringing. For a while he was given to believe my grandmother was actually his mother. It was an attempt to sweep the disgrace under a rug. When he learned the truth about himself, it triggered his manic-depressive condition. He lived on the darkest edges of the world he envisioned. Right from the beginning Mother and he were not treated nicely by the people here. They made him feel freakish, and because of that, he became even more introverted.

  "It became very serious after our mother died. He wanted to shut us both up and shut out the world outside our gates. He had something of a nervous breakdown aver it, in fact. So you can see why our home is not the happiest of places for him to be. Hannah."

  She smiled.

  You can see it in his art. The work he is doing at the residency is brighter, happier than the work he did here. Right?"

  I nodded. "I wish, then, that we could sell Soya del Mar and find another place, one where he would be happier."'

  "I don't know if that would solve all his problems, honey." she said.

  I sensed that there was more to see and know in this dark shut-up room, but she didn't look like she was going to tell it all to me.

  "When I get married and move away, I'll make sure I have a home big enough for him. too," I vowed.

  "Maybe you will" Mommy said smiling. She closed her eyes again, "Claude is beautiful." she muttered, "isn't he. Hannah? I hope and pray he'll be all right. You pray, too, sweetheart, pray for your little brother."

  I watched her drift off right in front of my eyes. Her breathing became soft and regular. For a few moments I sat there, pouting, and then I rose and went back to the nursery to look through the window at my new brother, at the little being who could bring so much joy to my mother and Miguel simply by appearing.

  Looking at Claude caused me to wonder about Uncle Linden, born secretly in that beach house, barely knowing his mother before she was sent to my grandfather's clinic. Do babies sense the separation, long for their mothers without even realizing what it is that makes them feel so lost? Was Uncle Linden terrified at night when he cried and was comforted not by his mother, but by his Grandmother?

  Something made little Claude shudder, and then a moment later he waved his arms and small fists wildly, screaming. No one seemed to notice. I looked about frantically until finally I saw a nurse go to him. She held him for a moment. but that didn't stop his crying. His face looked even redder, and I thought. Do something before he chokes to death on his own tears.

  I was about to pound on the glass and shout it, but the nurse smiled as if there was absolutely nothing wrong, then she said something to another nurse and took him out. I worried about where sh
e had taken him until I saw she was bringing him to Mommy's room.

  'What's wrong with him?" I asked.

  "Nothing. He's just hungry," the nurse replied and went in to wake Mommy so she could breast-feed him. She had decided she would do that.

  Nothing brought home little Claude's favored place and status in our family more than watching him suckle at Mommy's breast and seeing the angelic joy in her face. Mommy never told me whether or not she had breast-fed me, and suddenly it became very important to know.

  "He's so hungry," Mommy said. "That's good."

  "Was I breast-fed. too?" I asked abruptly. Mommy looked up at me, holding her smile.

  "No, actually, you weren't. I was so crazed back then. Your father and I had separated. I was feeling so abused. Despite what everyone was telling me. I couldn't help believing I had permitted him to ruin my life."

  "Then you didn't want me to be born?"

  "Yes, of course I did. I was just feeling terribly sorry for myself. My mother had died; Linden was not doing very well. as I explained to you. and here I was. pregnant with a husband who considered adultery less important than a parking ticket.

  But the moment you appeared on the scene, it all changed. It was as if the sun had finally come out on a rainy day."

  "Then why didn't you breast-feed me. too?"

  She hesitated, glanced at Claude. and then looked at me and forced a smile. Mommy's forced smiles always looked like she could go either way: cry or laugh.

  "I just told you. Hannah. I was in somewhat of a state of turmoil. I had no one but Miguel really. I needed to get back on my feet as quickly as I could. I tried to stay home with you as long as I could, but eventually. I had to get out in the world and occupy myself. You had a wonderful nanny in Donna Castilla, and Mrs. Davis, bless her soul, watched over you as though you were her very own grandchild. In the beginning I had my hands full arbitrating the arguments between the two of them concerning what was best for you and what was not. Do you remember any of that?"

  "A little." I said.

  "Yes, well. I'm glad I didn't keep a nanny as long as my stepmother did, even though Amou was more my mother. You, thank goodness, had me and had a stepfather who has always loved you like his own."

  "Now he has two children to love," I said.

  She gazed down at Claude. I wondered if she could hear my fears in my voice. I really meant he'll love him more. It's only natural. I thought. Claude is his real child and Claude is his son.

  "Does that hurt?" I asked.

  "Breast-feeding? Just the opposite. However. you won't find many Palm Beach mothers doing it. They're terrified of losing their figures."

  "Aren't you?"

  "No," she said firmly. "Besides, I want to do what's best for him." she added.

  Then why didn't you do what was best for me? I wanted to ask. but I didn't. I watched for a while, and then, after the nurse returned and took Claude back to the nursery, I went to get Mommy some magazines at the hospital gift shop. When I returned to the room. Miguel was there. He was ranting on and on about his faculty meeting, and Mommy was lying back on the pillow, a smile of amusement painted across her face.

  "I mean, they will, they won't. Talk, talk, talk, but no action!" he exclaimed,

  "They're afraid. Miguel. They have to talk themselves into it first. It takes time."

  "Time is not something they have in abundance here. Willow. Oh, what's the use!" he cried and collapsed in the chair, his arms dangling. The he looked up at me and shook his head.

  "Don't marry a schoolteacher unless he's independently wealthy." he told me.

  "I'm not getting married." I retorted.

  "What? Why not?"

  "I want to have a carter."

  "Your mother has a career and she's married," he said, nodding at Mommy.

  "She's different," I said "She can be a psychologist and stay in one place. I will have to travel, do tours, be in shows. I won't have time for a husband and especially not for a child."

  "Sure you will," Miguel said.

  "No, I won't. I especially won't be able to breast-feed," I practically screamed.

  The smile lifted off his face. He looked at Mommy.

  "It's all right. Hannah. You're too young to have to worry about those things anyway." she said. "What did you get me?" she asked. and I brought her the magazines, "Good," she said, looking them over. You guys better go home." she told Miguel.

  "Sure," he said. standing. "I'll be back after dinner." He leaned over and kissed her softly on the mouth.

  "Thank you for my son." he whispered loud enough for me to hear.

  She beamed.

  I turned toward the door. "Hannah?" she called, holding up her arms.

  I went to her and let her embrace and kiss me on the cheek, but my own lips were still stuck in a firm pout.

  "Take care of Miguel." she said. "Make sure he eats a real dinner and doesn't stop at some taco stand and call that a meal," she added, eyeing him with pretended fury.

  He laughed. "She reads my mind, that woman. No wonder she is such a successful psychotherapist."

  If she could only read mine. I thought, she would know how deep the hurt I felt was and how it seemed to travel through my body, even affecting the way I walked. Miguel insisted on stopping by the nursery on our way out.

  "One more look to be sure it's all real," he said.

  Little Claude was contentedly asleep, his tummy full of Mommy's milk. There was no umbilical cord between them, but he was still dependent on her.

  He wasn't a day old, and he was already more a part of this family than I had ever been. I thought.

  Maybe more than I would ever be.

  2

  Brothers and Sisters

  .

  Suddenly I was the center of attention for all

  my friends at school. They practically attacked me with their questions when I returned the following day. With Mommy in the hospital. I had use of her car. It was one of those rare heavily overcast days with a marine layer that grew thicker and thicker with every passing hour, the clouds rolling aver each other and growing darker, looking mare scuffed and bruised, until the skies exploded in thunder and seared the underbelly of the stormy ceiling with lightning. Finally a downpour brought some cool air, but the clouds still seemed embedded in my thoughts, and the lightning still sizzled in my eyes.

  My girlfriends surrounded me as soon as I entered the building. They fired their questions in shotgun fashion.

  "How much did your little brother weigh?" "What does he look more like?"

  "Does he look at all like you?"

  "What's his name?

  "Why did they call him Claude?"

  "Did your mother hire the nanny yet?" Massy asked pointedly, pushing her way to the forefront.

  Mommy hadn't hired anyone even though she had conducted interviews and had a dozen or so resumes. She had decided only during the final few weeks not to do so immediately.

  "I think it's important for me to be home and continue the breast-feeding," she announced at dinner one night. I looked at her and thought Massy was right after all. Despite Mommy's knowledge of psychology, she would be the neurotic mother Massy had predicted.

  Not yet," I was forced to admit. Massy practically illuminated, her eyes filling with candle flames.

  "Not yet?" She laughed. 'I told you." she declared with such an expression of self-satisfaction. I felt my stomach churn. "I told you your mother would be too nervous to put her trust into anyone but family."

  "Yes, you told me. You're so brilliant and the rest of us are all stupid." I retorted, shaking my head in front of her and burning my eyes into hers.

  "Don't get mad at me for being right," she fired back,

  Everyone looked at me. My face was flushed. I was already in a mood that serial killers would envy, and here was Massy putting her fat, self-satisfied face in mine.

  I smiled coldly at her, "I'm not mad at you for being right, Massy. I'm mad at you for enjoying it so muc
h and for taking your frustrations out on me.'

  "Huh?" she moaned, stepping back, her cheeks swelling so much, her eyes seemed to disappear. "What frustrations?"

  "Not being able to get Raymond Humphrey to give you the time of day." I replied in a voice loud enough for the boys behind us to hear. Raymond being one of them.

  Massy's face turned more blue than red. She looked at the other girls, and then, with her eyes filling with tears to drown out those candle flames, she lifted her heavy shoulders, squeezed her books against her ample bosom, and spun around to march away. The boys laughed aloud behind us.

  "That was mean. Hannah," Brigitte Sklar said. The others nodded in agreement. "You know she told us that in confidence. We were all trusting each other with our heartfelt, deepest secrets."

  "It's her own fault, making me feel bad first." I said. I hated sounding like I was whining, but that was exactly what I was doing.

  "What did she say that was so terrible? She was just trying to give you heads-up about your mother and what things might be like for you at home." Tina Olsen said.

  "You should know better." Brigitte insisted. "That wasn't fair."

  "Fair has nothing to do with anything!" I snapped back at her. "It's childish to think it does."

  She didn't reply. She looked at the others and then the bell rang and we headed for our classes. At lunch I felt like being by myself. It wouldn't have mattered if I hadn't because all my friends were comforting poor Massy, who was milking their sympathy and throwing glances full of darts my way. I had sulked all through my last two classes, not answering questions I could have easily answered. Everyone kept her distance between classes, too. They could see in my face that I was full of anger and selfpity and not fit company. I found an empty corner at a table and attacked a cheese-and-tomato sandwich as would a ravenous dog.

  "Are you that hungry?" I heard and turned to look up at Heyden Reynolds.

  "No," I said. "I don't even know what I'm eating." I replied. He smiled and looked toward my friends,

  "Trouble in paradise?" he asked me.

  "Some paradise," I muttered, His smile widened to reveal how pleased he was about that. Was this a case of misery loves company? I wondered.