"She uses her maiden name for her professional name, Maureen Mathews." I thought for a moment. "Often, when they sent out invitations for things, they did write Mr. Michael Lester and Ms. Maureen Mathews."
"My mother's gone back to her maiden name now," Misty said. She turned to Cat. "What about your mother?"
"Yes," she said.
"Your parents sound like they were divorced before they got married," Star muttered.
I almost laughed. It was something I had thought myself.
"Let's just say they were together but divided. Equally," I added.
"What else went into the agreement?" Misty wondered.
"After my mother returned to work, my father was to share full responsibilities for my care. If I needed to be brought to the doctor and my mother was at work, he would have to leave work. The following time, she would. The same was true for school events, dentist visits, dermatologist visits, optometrist visits, orthodontist. ."
"We get the point," Star said.
"They actually kept track?" Misty asked.
I nodded.
"I grew up believing everyone had a large calendar on the wall in their kitchens with their father's first initial in some squares and their mother's in others. When I visited friends and didn't see their calendars, I asked and they either laughed or looked at me funny. Some admitted their parents kept small diaries for scheduled appointments, but few talked about it like I did.
"I guess that's when I began to feel a little different from some of my friends. Actually, what happened is I started to feel guilty about it all," I said.
"Why?" Cat asked and as usual looked down almost immediately.
"Because I knew my mother would rather be someplace else or my father had to shift some important meeting because he's forced to be doing things with me instead. Whenever they could when I was older, they just hired a limousine to cart me around but for quite a long time, one or the other had to be with me and there are places and meetings that require a parent to be present."
"All your expenses, they shared, right?" Misty asked.
"Almost all. There were times when my mother didn't agree about something my father had bought me or vice versa and the way they settled it was the other didn't have to contribute."
"They were always like this and you thought they were in love?" Star asked with a smirk.
"Yes, I did. I don't think they were like this from the very start. As I said, I think they were romantic and then they just became . . ."
"What?"
I looked at Dr. Marlowe. There was no doubt she was very interested in my answer. It had taken me a long time to find it, many hours of watching my parents argue and gradually become more comfortable as strangers than lovers. - -
"Threatened:' I said.
Star looked at Misty, who shrugged.
"Can you explain what you mean, Jade?" Dr. Marlowe asked so softly, I almost didn't hear her question.
"I guess they each realized how much of themselves they would have to surrender to make the marriage work, and when I came along, the price went up. My mother was always afraid she would become less and less if she had children, and my father was always afraid he would get weaker and weaker as my mother demanded more of him."
"Is she right about all this?" Star asked Dr. Marlowe. "Does she know what she's talking about?"
"Maybe," Dr. Marlowe said.
"Don't you ever say yes or no?" Star snapped at her.
Doctor Marlowe just looked calmly at her. "Yes," she said finally, holding her expression for a moment and then we all laughed. It felt good, like we were all able to stop pulling on a rope.
From the way Star looked at me, I knew she had another delicious question rolling around in her brain. "What about this?" she asked, motioning around the room.
"This?"
"Coming here to see the therapist. Who pays for that?"
"Oh, they both do that:' I said. "Although there's no question my father thinks it's my mother's fault and my mother thinks it's my father's."
"So how did they agree on it?" Misty asked.
"The judge made them agree," I said.
"The judge made them?"
"I'm practically a ward of the state at the moment," I said. "You didn't have all that much to do with your parents' divorce, did you?"
She shook her head.
"You do?" she asked.
"Are you kidding? I have two new best friends," I told her.
"Who?" Star asked
"My parents' lawyers," I said and I laughed.
None of the others joined me.
They were all just staring at me. Why weren't they laughing too? I wondered.
Until I felt the first tear slide down my cheek. 2
"
Sometimes I wish my parents had sued each other for divorce immediately after I was born," I said after I regained control of myself. "That way I wouldn't have to live through all this. Everything would have been decided down to the last Egyptian vase or Persian rug before I even had a chance to understand that most kids have two parents living at home, parents who are not on opposite sides of a seesaw trying to outweigh each other in importance.
"What you don't have, you don't miss, I suspect. At the beginning of all this, things were not all that different from the way they are now. I used to think of myself as the golden latchkey child who returned to an empty house in which there was still a maid, a cook, and around it, a small army of grounds people cutting and pruning to keep our home looking like something special in the gated community. My parents were rarely home when I got home from school. Most of the time though, my mother would get home before my father. One day I think she decided that getting home ahead of him made it look like her job was less important, so she started to stay later and later in order to arrive home after my father.
"Then there was the division of labor. My mother discussed the menu with the cook. My father was in charge of the grounds maintenance employees. They had a business manager to help with the bills and keep the separate accounts, and everything they bought for the house they evaluated together and both had to agree to buy or it had to be bought with separate money."
"That doesn't sound like a family. It sounds like a business," Star muttered.
"You're probably right. They saw it more like a partnership with each of them holding equal shares. Maybe my family can go on the stock market, Dr. Marlowe," I said. "Lester Incorporated. Only, who'd want to invest in it since the partners don't?" I added.
She gave me that blank therapist's face, that look that made me turn to myself for the answers.
"Yes, that's what's happened," I said to Star. "You've hit it right on the head--their relationship was more like a business than a marriage. And now the company's gone bankrupt."
"You've still got plenty of money," Star said with that now familiar twist in her lips that assured me I would find no sympathy on this subject.
"Oh, yes, plenty of money. The company's just out of that other stuff families need. You know, what's it called, Dr. Marlowe? Love?" I nodded before she could respond. "That's it. Love. We ran out of love and there just wasn't any to be had so we had to close the company doors.
"Now, the partners are fighting over the assets and I just happened to be another asset. Each of them wants to be sure he gets his fair share, you see. Well, maybe each would like to get more than his fair share. That way, he or she can claim some kind of victory. That way they won't feel so bad about the years they've invested in this business.
"And so my dear sisters, or OWP's as Misty has called us, I find myself in court where the most personal details about my life are openly displayed, renamed as exhibits and spread out on tables for lawyers, sociologists and therapists to gawk at. Do you have any idea what it's like to have to answer personal questions in the judge's office with a court stenographer taking down your every word and the judge peering at you with fish eyes?" I asked them, raising my voice.
Misty shook her head. Star stared and Cat bit her lower lip and nodded. Maybe she did know. We'd soon find out, I thought
"I knew things were getting worse and worse before the beginning of the divorce, but I guess I either wouldn't face the possibility of their getting a divorce or I thought they wouldn't do it because of the waste of time and money. They would just continue to live through periods of war and truces until one or the other got tired of it and compromised.
"One thing about them, they didn't stop caring about public appearances, right up to the day my father's lawyer served my mother with a copy of the petition for divorce. They would get dressed up, my father in one of his stylish tuxedos and my mother in a designer gown and her diamonds, and even tell each other how nice they looked. Then they would leave, maybe not arm in arm, but together enough to give the appearance things were fine. All they had to do was tell each other how important an event was to her or his careers and they would cooperate, as if it was part of the rules of war that you didn't harm the other's professional life.
"It's weird. They still compliment each other when they speak to other people. I've heard my mother, just as recently as yesterday, brag about my father's talents and the buildings he's designed, and my father has told people how good a businesswoman my mother is. I guess they want to reassure
themselves and others that they had every reason to be fooled. Anyone would have wanted my mother for a wife or my father for a husband. Talk about being civilized about hating each other," I said, shaking my head. "They smile as they shoot at each other with legal bullets."
"Your father's lawyer served your mother papers?" Cat asked. "Where?"
"What difference does that make?" Star asked, but I thought that was a good question because the event of actually receiving such documents is traumatic. I began to wonder more about Cat's story and what had happened between her parents.
"Actually, he just mailed them to her," I said. "She received them at home and found them while she was sifting through the pile of mail with her name on it. Her professional name," I added.
"What did she do?" Star asked.
"Nothing special that night. You'd never know anything was wrong. Remember what I told you about my mother's ability to maintain the fortress of her pride? She might lose, but she's never defeated.
"They were both at dinner. I remember that meal; I remember almost every detail of that, what should I call it, that Last Supper, even though we still ate together afterward. We might even eat together tonight, but that was the last dinner where they pretended they cared enough about each other and me to keep the marriage on track.
"I remember we had chicken Kiev with wild rice. Mother had chosen the wine, a French
Chardonnay. For dessert there was a deep dish apple cobbler with vanilla ice cream."
"You make it sound like a restaurant," Star said.
"It's as good as any I've been to and I've been to quite a few in New York, here and London," I said.
"You've been to London?" Misty asked.
"Of course. We were supposed to go to Paris this year. Mother claims we still will, but just she and I of course, and my father says he will take me on a business trip and has upped the bid to Paris and Madrid. Mother is now considering Venice, Madrid and Paris. It's all on hold, dependent upon the outcome of the divorce, final financial arrangements, custody, etc.," I said.
They were all giving me that look again, those wide eyes of amazement.
"Back to the Last Supper," I continued. "As I said, you'd never have known anything was wrong. My father talked about his new design project and my mother boasted that she was having lunch with the president of her company the next day. They argued a little about politics. My father is more conservative, but sometimes I think my mother disagrees with his political views just to disagree, know what I mean?"
"Yes," Misty said.
"No," Star said.
Cat shook her head.
"My parents never talked about politics," she said.
"At the Last Supper, my father complained about some work the gardeners had done on the hedges and threatened to look for a new company to take care of the property and my mother announced the need to get new patio lounges. With those kinds of topics for discussion, how was I to suspect anything? There I was eating away, living in my own private bubble as usual, my head full of plans for the next day.
"Then dessert was served and my mother, in a tone as casual as though she were still speaking about patio furniture, said that she had received papers from Arnold Klugman, whom I knew from previous discussions about other legal matters to be my parents' attorney.
"Without a beat my father said, 'Good.'
"My mother said, 'I'll have Sheldon Fishman call him in the morning.'
"'You're using Sheldon Fishman?' my father asked with mild interest.
"'Judith Milner used him and was quite satisfied,' she replied.
"He nodded and returned to his dessert. When Mrs. Caron looked in on us, he complimented her on the meal and she thanked him. I went upstairs afterward to begin studying for an English exam, still not having an inkling of what was going on. I never took much interest in their legal concerns before. Why should I now? I thought."
"When did you learn what was really happening between them?" Misty asked.
"Two days later it was my mother's turn to pick me up after band rehearsal. My father had flown to Denver for a meeting and wouldn't be back until the next day. My girlfriends' mothers had picked us up all week and it was now my family's turn. The carpool arrangements made it difficult to just send a taxi and the limousine would have been overkill.
"I remember Mother was very irritable about it and constantly on the car phone, barking orders at her staff. We dropped the others off and then she pulled into our driveway, still talking on the phone. When I got out, she called for me to wait.
"She finished her conversation and got out of the car, folding her arms under her breasts and looking down as she paced around the driveway, her heels clicking like quarters falling on the black tile. I couldn't imagine what was going on. It looked like it was going to start raining any moment and I was anxious to get into the house. I wanted to call one of my girlfriends about a boy named Jeremy Brian who I thought liked me. That's how oblivious I was to the war about to begin raging around me.
"'You know your father and I are not getting along, Jade,' my mother finally said, tossing her hair back as if the strands were annoying flies buzzing at her ear.
"So? I thought. I hadn't really noticed all that much of an escalation in their arguments, but maybe that was because I was no longer paying much attention.