man is living and breathing and whittlinghis animal tusks while Walter, who was the epitome of sanity and goodness, is gone? Were it not for completely alienating her son and his free-spirited wife, she would throw it out in the trash. Instead, she has it boxed up and placed in the drawer where she keeps a photo from Ben’s first marriage, the other wife, a cute quiet conventional woman who wanted to settle and spend her life somewhere. “That’s not so much for her to ask,” Walter had told Ben when he announced with anger that they were separated, that she was asking too much of him. “What is it you’re looking for?”
Wayne, after only a few months practicing law, decided that it was not for him and went back to get an MBA. Now he’s considering a CPA. What happened to the normal child? She keeps asking the question and wishing Walter could answer. Anna recently asked Wayne why he didn’t drive his BMW while eating a BLT to the YMCA for a little R&R or better yet, why didn’t he find a nice young woman who could give him some TLC? What she has found out most recently is that Wayne is more interested in finding a nice young man and she thinks she can live with all that. She is convinced she can live with just about anything. It’s what she can’t live without that poses a problem.
The summer after Wayne was born they went back to the small cottage. Anna spent most of the vacation up onthe screened-in porch with Wayne in her arms, his tiny body shielded from the salty breeze by a cotton blanket. It was midweek before they saw any lights on in the house across the way. There were several cars in the drive (the Lincoln was in the garage but they never saw it move), and the beach in front of the house was peppered with children of all ages. Anna had a lot of time to watch while Walter was out swimming with the kids and she was left behind to the shade of the porch. All day long people came and went, but no sign of the couple from the year before other than their car.
Finally, late one afternoon, the woman came out on the deck. She stood and held onto the rail as if the wind might whip her out to sea. She stood that way for what seemed an eternity and then a younger woman—someone who was probably Anna’s age—came out and took her by the arm. Anna’s involvement in the scene was interrupted by Wayne’s cries. There was a diaper to change, a baby to nurse, two children to bathe and dress and entertain.
“Mr. Vanderbilt left her,” Anna said over a dinner of steamed shrimp, which the children would not eat, and french fries, which they would. “She’s all alone. He ran off with his very young secretary and where does that leave her?” Anna was trying hard to make a joke of what she had seen but the humor was impossible to find.
“I think he died,” Walter said, and she turned, her expression matching his. They both sat quietly, fries andcatsup all over the plastic tablecloth that came with the house. “Yeah, he died all right,” Walter said. “She’s too peaceful for him not to be. If he’d just left her she’d be furious, breaking things, screaming for the lawyers. He died all right.” It was a feeble joke, and though Anna laughed, she felt the tears spring to her eyes without warning. Summer after summer, they came to the same house, catching glimpses of the lady who came outside less and less; the Lincoln was no longer in the garage. With each passing summer, the children across the street got bigger and then they were doing things with Carol and Ben and Wayne. Carol reported that the house belonged to the kids’ grandmother; there were twelve cousins in all. The children were still so young then: Ben down at the Putt-Putt range or pavilion playing pinball; Carol reading magazines with a girlfriend and talking about how no man was going to keep her from being an astronaut if that was what she decided to be; Wayne out riding the waves on a Styrofoam board. In her worst scenarios, tragedy came
Wayne, after only a few months practicing law, decided that it was not for him and went back to get an MBA. Now he’s considering a CPA. What happened to the normal child? She keeps asking the question and wishing Walter could answer. Anna recently asked Wayne why he didn’t drive his BMW while eating a BLT to the YMCA for a little R&R or better yet, why didn’t he find a nice young woman who could give him some TLC? What she has found out most recently is that Wayne is more interested in finding a nice young man and she thinks she can live with all that. She is convinced she can live with just about anything. It’s what she can’t live without that poses a problem.
The summer after Wayne was born they went back to the small cottage. Anna spent most of the vacation up onthe screened-in porch with Wayne in her arms, his tiny body shielded from the salty breeze by a cotton blanket. It was midweek before they saw any lights on in the house across the way. There were several cars in the drive (the Lincoln was in the garage but they never saw it move), and the beach in front of the house was peppered with children of all ages. Anna had a lot of time to watch while Walter was out swimming with the kids and she was left behind to the shade of the porch. All day long people came and went, but no sign of the couple from the year before other than their car.
Finally, late one afternoon, the woman came out on the deck. She stood and held onto the rail as if the wind might whip her out to sea. She stood that way for what seemed an eternity and then a younger woman—someone who was probably Anna’s age—came out and took her by the arm. Anna’s involvement in the scene was interrupted by Wayne’s cries. There was a diaper to change, a baby to nurse, two children to bathe and dress and entertain.
“Mr. Vanderbilt left her,” Anna said over a dinner of steamed shrimp, which the children would not eat, and french fries, which they would. “She’s all alone. He ran off with his very young secretary and where does that leave her?” Anna was trying hard to make a joke of what she had seen but the humor was impossible to find.
“I think he died,” Walter said, and she turned, her expression matching his. They both sat quietly, fries andcatsup all over the plastic tablecloth that came with the house. “Yeah, he died all right,” Walter said. “She’s too peaceful for him not to be. If he’d just left her she’d be furious, breaking things, screaming for the lawyers. He died all right.” It was a feeble joke, and though Anna laughed, she felt the tears spring to her eyes without warning. Summer after summer, they came to the same house, catching glimpses of the lady who came outside less and less; the Lincoln was no longer in the garage. With each passing summer, the children across the street got bigger and then they were doing things with Carol and Ben and Wayne. Carol reported that the house belonged to the kids’ grandmother; there were twelve cousins in all. The children were still so young then: Ben down at the Putt-Putt range or pavilion playing pinball; Carol reading magazines with a girlfriend and talking about how no man was going to keep her from being an astronaut if that was what she decided to be; Wayne out riding the waves on a Styrofoam board. In her worst scenarios, tragedy came
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