Ted felt cold and put on his overcoat. His mother had always been such a hard woman and full of self-righteousness. Sometimes, growing up, he had hated her. Then it came to him how Delia was almost never self-righteous. Maybe that had come from making mistakes and being judged herself. Ella hadn’t been hard, either. The women he’d loved had been much kinder than his mother. They had been more like his dad.
“You cannot take Irene away from Ella. You’ve already ruined her life. She has to be a divorced person now. How will she survive the shame of the disgrace?”
“Things are different now.”
Mrs. Kim grasped the banister. “Your daddy was always so proud of you. You could never make any mistakes. He always said it was okay that you never came home. Even when he was really, really sick, he said, ‘Don’t bother Teddy because he is working so hard. Don’t bother a boy when he is working hard.’ He used to tell everyone he knew that his son went to Harvard College and Harvard Business School. You could have been homeless and living under a bridge, but you had done this thing for your father—go to Harvard. Even all the rich people were impressed when he said his son had gone to Harvard. He was so sick that he couldn’t go to your graduation or your wedding. But he didn’t want you to know how sick he was, because he couldn’t worry you. And when you had your baby and you didn’t bring her, even then, oh, your daddy was so sad. Your daddy, your daddy said, ‘Teddy must be so busy. It’s not easy to make millions of dollars a year. He doesn’t even take a vacation. He is working hard to take care of his family. Now he has to work harder. Teddy has to take care of one more person, send her to Harvard, too. Teddy is an important man in America.’” Mrs. Kim looked at him with such cold eyes that Ted grew frightened of her. He thought she hated him. “Your daddy, before he died, when he was at the hospital, your daddy said, ‘Teddy is a good boy. Don’t be mad at Teddy for not coming to see me. I know Teddy is a good boy. America is not easy, and he is successful here. I am so proud of him.’ That’s what your daddy said.”
Ted stared at his feet. He didn’t have his shoes on yet. He couldn’t speak, and he was unable or unwilling to defend himself against this wrinkled brown woman, her hair a mop of gray wires. He had come from her body and his father’s. He didn’t know Irene, but he’d thought that if he shared custody of her, he’d get to know her so much better. He vowed to love her even if she messed up. When Ella was pregnant, after she’d been diagnosed with herpes, he had gone to church every single Sunday morning, and he had prayed for one thing: that Irene would not be harmed by the herpes that he’d somehow given Ella. Until this moment, Ted had forgotten to acknowledge that God had answered his prayers. When he was a high school student, he had asked God to let him get into Harvard and make him rich so he could take care of his parents forever. On that deal, he had made good.
“You cannot take Irene away,” his mother said. “You should not hurt Ella any more.”
“I’ll phone you from New York.” Ted turned away and walked past her. Everything he had ever done in his life that might have been good was canceled out by his divorce, by his falling in love with Delia while he was married to Ella, and now by wanting joint custody of Irene. His mother thought he was nothing.
But his mother failed to understand. The lawyer had said that if Ella had full custody, she could move far away with Irene without his consent. No one would ever retain the option to take away his child.
“Your daddy—” Mrs. Kim began to sob again.
Ted froze on his step, and when he turned back to face her, she wasn’t there. Mrs. Kim had gone into her room and shut the door. The last door he recalled being shut to him was Ella’s—the night she’d found out about the herpes. But as soon as it had been opened to him, and he was let in, he had wanted to get out. He didn’t knock on his mother’s door.
Downstairs, he helped Delia with her coat. They said good-bye to Michael, Julie, and the boys. By morning, they would be in New York.
7 SCISSORS
IT WAS JUST LIKE VIRGINIA TO SEND HER A LETTER via Federal Express. The cardboard envelope hit her desk on Wednesday afternoon.
“Lost the pregnancy. Am okay. Tossed Gio. Am also okay. Desperate for a diversion, dearest Casey. P-rade! P-rade! P-rade! Am flying in on Friday night to JFK, will go to the reunion on Saturday with you, of course, then on Sunday, promised to visit Lady Eugenie in Newport. Am dying to get off Italian reds and switch to tequila. Please meet me at the house on Saturday morning at 7 a.m. I will drive there, and you can drive back. I miss you so much. Four years, Casey. Baby, we are so old. Remember, you promised me one P-rade! xxxxxxxxxxxs”