Charley's Web (30 page)

“Can we go, Mommy? Can we? Can we?” Franny and James asked with one voice, Franny jumping almost as far out of her chair as her brother.

“We could drive up on Saturday morning, spend the night, and leave Sunday afternoon,” Alex said.

“Please, please, please.”

“My secretary can make all the arrangements,” he offered. “Come on, Charley. It’ll be fun.”

“Can we go, Mommy? Please. Can we go?”

“I don’t know…”

“Where are we going?” came a voice from the front hall. All eyes shot toward the sound.

“Uncle Bram!” James jumped from his seat and raced into the hall. “We’re going to Disney World next week for Mommy’s birthday! Want to come?”

Charley found herself holding her breath as James dragged her brother into view.

Bram was wearing a gray silk shirt and a pair of neatly pressed black pants, his dark hair trimmed since the last time she’d seen him, his eyes sober and penetrating. Charley thought she’d never seen him look more beautiful. Or more frightened.

What should she do? Introduce them?
Bram, this is your mother. Mother, this is your son.
She wondered if he even realized that neither Emily nor Anne was there, and when he opened his mouth to speak, she felt as if her heart might stop beating, so afraid was she of what he might say.

“Sorry I’m late.” Bram avoided his mother’s steadfast gaze and focused directly on Charley. “It smells great. Anything left for me?”

Elizabeth Webb was instantly on her feet. “I’ll get you a plate,” she said, never taking her eyes off her son.

Charley pulled another chair to the table, took her brother’s hand, and sat down beside him, not sure who was trembling more.

“Okay, kids, bedtime. Say goodnight to everyone,” Charley announced at just past eight o’clock. Dinner was over, dessert had been served, and Bram was lingering over his third cup of coffee. Neither he nor their mother had touched much of their peach pie.

James hugged both his mother and grandmother, then looked hopefully at Alex. “Are you really taking us to Disney World?”

Alex glanced over at Charley, raised one eyebrow. When you can’t beat ’em…she thought, and smiled her agreement.

“Yay!” James cried. “We’re going to Disney World! We’re going to Disney World!”

“Goodnight, James,” Alex said. “’Night, Franny.”

“Goodnight, Alex,” Franny said shyly. “It was very nice meeting you.”

“Nice meeting you, too.”

Franny shook his hand, then kissed her mother and grandmother.

“Can Uncle Bram read us a story?” James was already pulling on Bram’s arm.

Bram offered no resistance. He’d said little at dinner, other than to the kids and occasionally to Alex, whose presence had undoubtedly served as a buffer, keeping long-festering resentments at bay. The only words Bram had spoken to his mother all night were to inquire—without actually looking at her—how she was, and Elizabeth had answered simply that she was fine. When she’d ventured to add that she was so grateful he’d been able to join them for dinner, Bram had muttered something about always being happy to see his niece and nephew, then spent the rest of the meal horsing around with James. “I guess I can read you a story or six,” Bram said now, allowing himself to be dragged down the hall.

“Lights out in twenty minutes,” Charley called after them.

“They’re great kids,” Alex told her.

“Charley’s a wonderful mother,” Elizabeth said.

“And you’re a wonderful cook. Thank you for a remarkable dinner,” Alex told her.

“That sounds suspiciously like an exit line.” Charley watched Alex rise to his feet. “You’re not going, are you?”

“I think it’s probably a good idea.” He took her hand, led her toward the front door. “I suspect the three of you have a lot to talk about.”

“You really think that’s wise?”

He kissed her tenderly on the lips. “I think it’s time,” he said.

O
kay, Bram, I think that’s enough stories for one night.” Charlie pushed open the door to her children’s room half an hour later, surprised to find the room in darkness. It took her eyes several seconds to adjust, and when they did, she saw her children asleep and Bram perched on the side of Franny’s bed, staring into space, an open book on the bed at Franny’s feet.

“They fell asleep during story number three,” he said quietly, without looking over.

“How long ago was that?”

“Ten, fifteen minutes.”

“And you’ve just been sitting here ever since?”

“I got up to turn off the lights.”

“Then you sat back down,” Charley stated.

“I did. It’s nice in here. Quiet. Not too crowded. Did I hear somebody leave a little while ago?”

“Alex.”

“Wrong answer.”

“She’s not going anywhere, Bram.”

“Couldn’t you have left a few travel brochures lying around? Some nice picture books of Australia to make her homesick?”

“She
is
home.”

“For now.”

“She’s been back two years,” Charley reminded him.

“Which is exactly how old I was when she left. There’s a kind of nice symmetry to that, I suppose.”

“She’s really sorry.”

“So am I.” Bram released a deep breath, as if he was struggling with a heavy weight. “She’s a stranger to me, Charley. I look at her, and there’s no connection at all.”

“Which is strange, because you look just like her,” Charley remarked. “The dark hair, the shape of your face, your eyes, even the way you move your hands when you talk.”

Bram immediately folded his arms across his chest, tucked his hands beneath his armpits. “You’re seeing things.”

“No. Emily and I look more like Dad. You and Anne look just like…”

“You’re seeing what you want to see,” Bram interrupted.

“Maybe.”

“I shouldn’t have come tonight.”

“I’m glad you did. It took a lot of courage.”

He laughed. “Yeah. That’s why I’ve been hiding in here for the last half hour.”

“She won’t bite, Bram.”

“She doesn’t have to.”

Charley walked slowly toward him, held out her hand. “Come on. She’s not getting any younger.”

Bram grabbed her hand and held on tight, although he didn’t move. “Why is it I feel as if
I
am?”

Charley smiled, understanding exactly what he meant. “Come on,” she said again. “She’s waiting.”

They sat grouped around the coffee table in the living room, like the last three pawns in a not-so-friendly game of chess, Charley on the sofa, her mother and Bram on the two oversize rattan chairs across from her. Charley’s eyes flitted nervously between her mother and brother, afraid to linger. Her mother stared anxiously toward Bram, afraid to look away. Bram stared at the floor, clearly wishing he were somewhere else.

“I know this isn’t easy for you,” Elizabeth said to her son.

“You know nothing about me,” Bram countered.

“I know you’re angry, that you have every right to be.”

“That’s very big of you, to approve of my anger.”

“Bram,” Charley warned, leaning forward in her seat, as if preparing to leap across the coffee table and separate them, should the discussion get out of hand.

“I’m sure there are a good many things you’d like to say to me,” Elizabeth broached.

“On the contrary,” Bram said. “There’s absolutely nothing I have to say to you. I was taught never to talk to strangers.”

A spot of pink materialized on Elizabeth’s cheek, as if she’d been slapped. “I’m your mother,” she said, her lower lip trembling.

Bram laughed, the harsh sound stopping abruptly as his eyes connected with Charley’s. “Sorry. I assumed that was a joke.”

“I know I wasn’t there for you in any meaningful way for a very long time….”

“Try ‘no way at all for twenty-two years,’” Bram amended.

“And words can never adequately express how sorry I am for that….”

“No words are necessary because I’m not interested in hearing them.”

“I thought about you every day….”

“Well, that’s very interesting, because I didn’t think about you at all.” Bram looked toward the vase of red-and-yellow silk tulips on the bamboo table against the far wall. “Well, no, that’s not exactly true. I probably thought about you initially. I was two years old, a baby, for God’s sake, and babies need their mothers. So, I must have cried. Is that right, Charley? Did I cry?”

“We were all very sad,” Charley acknowledged.

“And I’ll carry that sadness with me for the rest of my life.” Elizabeth’s eyes filled with tears, the faint blush in her cheeks sweeping across her face.

“Nobody’s asking you to carry anything,” Bram snapped. “Trust me—it’s not necessary. Because one of the neat things about being two years old is that you forget everything. Can you get your head around that?
I forgot you even existed.
So you can cry and say you thought about me every day for twenty-two fucking years, but the truth is that I have no memory of you whatsoever. None. Nada. Zero. Zippo. Zilch. I look at you,” he continued, really looking at his mother for the first time all night, then having to turn away again almost immediately, as if blinded by a painful flash of light, “and I see this attractive older woman who looks a little bit like me, I guess, but who means absolutely
nothing
to me. And I’m sorry if that sounds harsh. I’m sorry if it makes you sad. But what did you expect after all this time? I’m not Charley. Charley was eight when you left. She has memories. You left before I was old enough to process any, and for that, I’m actually very grateful. But I have no interest in picking up where we left off, or in picking up the pieces. I have no interest in getting to know you, in establishing any kind of relationship. I have no desire to
bond.
It’s too late. I don’t want you. I don’t need you.”

“I think you do,” Elizabeth said with quiet conviction.

Bram jumped to his feet, began pacing back and forth behind his chair. “Well, then I guess that’s all that matters. What
you
think, what
you
want, what
you
do. You’re the center of your universe, just as you’ve always been. God, I could use a drink.”

Elizabeth was suddenly on her feet, her arms reaching out to stop Bram’s pacing. He recoiled at her touch, raised his arms in front of him, as if warding off evil spirits. “You can tell me you have no memory of me,” Elizabeth said, taking several steps back. “You can tell me I’m a stranger to you, that I’m just a selfish old woman who means nothing to you, that you don’t want anything to do with me, and I’ll have no choice but to accept that. But don’t tell me you don’t need me because I know you do. And I know that until you deal with me, your problems with alcohol and drugs are going to continue.”

“You think my problems with drugs and alcohol are your fault? God, is there no end to your power? You know, I really
could
use a drink.” Bram’s eyes began skirting the room, as if searching for an errant bottle of wine.

“Bram….” Charley cautioned.

“I think you’ve been taking your anger at me out on yourself, that the drugs and alcohol…”

“…are expressly so that I don’t have to listen to this kind of shit.” Bram ran his hand through his hair, then looked to the ceiling, as if appealing for help.

“…are your way of dulling the pain.”

“Really? Which pain is that? The pain of discovering my mother is a dyke, or the pain of knowing she’s a selfish bitch who thinks she can pop in and out of my life whenever it suits her?”

“Bram…”

Bram marched into the kitchen. Charley heard the sound of the fridge door opening and closing. “You don’t have one goddamn beer?” Bram demanded, returning to the living room and throwing his hands in the air, as if he were tossing out confetti. “No white wine? You didn’t buy any champagne to celebrate Emily and Anne coming to town? Oh, wait. I forgot. They didn’t come. They had the good sense to cancel at the last minute. Thanks for telling me, by the way.”

“We could go to a therapist,” Elizabeth offered her son. “Together.”

“A therapist? I don’t want to go to a fucking therapist. I want to go to a fucking bar.”

“Okay, Bram, that’s enough fucking for one night,” Charley said.

Bram laughed. “Okay, Mommy.” He laughed again, pointed an accusatory finger at his mother. “Did you hear that? Charley was more of a mother to me than you ever were.”

“I know that, and…”

“And what? You’re sorry? We get that. You’re sorry. Now get this—big fucking deal!”

There was a shuffling sound. Charley turned to see Franny standing in the doorway, James by her side.

“Uncle Bram used the
f
-word,” James exclaimed, sleep-filled eyes opening wide.

“We heard yelling,” Franny said.

“It’s okay, sweetheart.” Charley rushed to their side. “Uncle Bram was just excited.”

“About going to Disney World?” James asked.

“Absolutely,” Bram agreed. “Sorry for all the noise.”

“You’re coming, too, aren’t you, Grandma?” Franny asked cautiously, as if afraid of the answer.

Elizabeth smiled, but said nothing.

“It’s Mommy’s birthday,” Franny said.

“She’s a Pisces,” James embellished.

“Of course your grandmother’s coming,” Bram said. “You think she’d miss your mother’s birthday? Perish the thought,” he added under his breath.

“Come on,” Charley told her children. “Off to bed.”

“I’ll tuck them in,” Elizabeth volunteered, hurrying the children out of the room.

“Are you all right?” Charley asked her brother as soon as they were gone.

Bram shook his head. “I’d feel a lot better with a drink.”

“Maybe you should call your sponsor.”

“You ever hear such a load of crap?”

“I don’t know. Maybe a therapist wouldn’t be such a bad idea. We could all go.”

“Maybe
I
should go before Dr. Phil comes back.” He walked quickly toward the front door.

“Bram…”

“Don’t worry about Disney World. I have no intention of tagging along and ruining everybody’s good time. It’s not really my thing anyway.” His hand reached for the doorknob.

“Bram….” This time the voice that stopped him wasn’t Charley’s, but his mother’s. Bram reluctantly released his grip on the door handle and slowly turned around. “Please,” Elizabeth said. “There’s something I need to say to you.”

“Apology accepted,” Bram decreed preemptively. “Can I go now?”

“This isn’t another apology.” Elizabeth pulled her shoulders back, clasped her hands together in front of her, and took a deep breath, as if she were about to deliver a speech in front of a crowded auditorium.

“Well, then,” Bram said. “You have something to say? Then, by all means, spit it out.”

Charley watched her mother take another deep breath, then took the next one along with her. It felt as if an eternity passed before her mother spoke again.

“I know you don’t believe me, but I really do understand your pain.”

“Of course you do.”

“And I understand your anger. I even sympathize with it. It was a terrible thing I did, running away to Australia, leaving you and your sisters in that house. And I will regret it till my dying day.”

“You’ve said this already.”

“But there’s nothing I can do about any of that now,” Elizabeth continued as if Bram hadn’t spoken. “What’s done is done. I made my choices. Right or wrong, I made them, and I can’t go back and unmake them. I may be every bit as selfish and awful as you seem to think. I may be guilty of every horrible, neglectful thing you accuse me of. But you can only blame your mother for so long. Eventually you have to accept some responsibility for the way your life turns out. You’re not two years old anymore, Bram. You’re all grown up, and what happens to you from now on is
your
choice. You can choose to stay stuck in the past, to drink and dope yourself into oblivion, and it’s still not going to change what happened. It’s time to move forward, time to make a real life for yourself. With me or without me. I didn’t give you a choice when I walked out on you all those years ago. But you have one now. I want to be a part of your life more than anything in the world. But I can’t spend the rest of my life apologizing. It doesn’t do either of us any good.”

“You’re telling me you messed up, but it’s my problem now? Is that what you’re saying?”

“I know it’s not fair, but…”

“Well, you’re certainly right about that. Anything else you want to say?”

“Just that I love you.”

Bram nodded, his hands forming fists at his sides. “Okay. So, I can go now?”

“Bram, please,” Charley cautioned as her brother opened the front door. “Don’t do anything stupid.”

“Bye, Charley. Thanks for dinner.” He walked quickly toward the nondescript, white rental car that was parked at the corner. “Happy birthday,” he called out, climbing inside and waving as he pulled away from the curb. “And in case I don’t see you next week, many happy returns of the day.”

It was almost midnight when Charley climbed into bed and picked up the phone. He’d still be up, she was thinking. He always stayed up late, catching up on his reading until well past twelve o’clock. She’d been debating whether to call him ever since her mother left, her mother’s words to Bram still bouncing around in her brain, like pebbles tossed against a window pane.
I made my choices…. I can’t go back and unmake them…. I may be guilty of every horrible, neglectful thing you accuse me of…. Eventually you have to accept some responsibility for the way your life turns out…. You’re all grown up, and what happens to you from now on is your choice…. You can choose to stay stuck in the past…. It’s time to move forward, time to make a real life for yourself…. You can only blame your mother for so long.

“Or your father,” Charley said aloud, pressing the appropriate numbers before she could change her mind, and listening as the phone rang once, then twice, before being picked up.

“Robert Webb,” the elegant voice said, without a hint of fatigue.

Charley heard the rustle of paper, and wondered which one of the three daily newspapers he read every night—
The New York Times, The Washington Post,
and
New Haven Register
—she was taking him away from. “Dad, it’s me. Charley.” There was silence, and for an instant, Charley wasn’t sure whether or not her father had hung up the phone without so much as a word. “Dad?”