and I realized that I had forgotten to turn my cell phone back on (I always turned it off when we went out to eat). When I did, I found a terse voice mail from my mother. I called her back, and she picked up on the first ring.
“Hi, Mom,” I said.
“Where were you?”
“In Amherst with Wylie. She’s staying with us for the weekend.” I was trying to speak nonchalantly, as if this were something we did every Saturday.
“Wylie? The daughter?” my mother asked. “Already? Aren’t you rushing things a bit?”
I dipped into another room, out of earshot from David and Wylie. “It’s what he wants,” I said. “We both do. And they should get to know each other.”
“Are you sure she’s not some golddigger?”
“Mom!”
“Not her personally. I mean maybe her mother is putting her up to it.”
“I’ve met her mother. Trust me, she’s not putting anyone up to anything. And I told you, Wylie just wants to know her real father. I want that for her too. It’s something I never had at her age.”
“It’s not like your father wasn’t around at all before he died.”
“But I didn’t
know
him. And I never felt understood or appreciated by him. I know you don’t like to hear me say such things, but that’s how I felt.”
The line went quiet for a few seconds before she resumed the conversation and changed the subject. “I called to ask you to come over tomorrow and stay overnight. Your brothers will be here too.”
“Sorry,” I said. “Can’t. Next weekend, perhaps?”
“It has to be tomorrow.”
“Why?”
“Because it does. It’s hard enough getting your brothers to stay in one place for more than a week or two, and I’ve got several appointments in the coming week.”
“What, are you running for election?” I quipped.
“Please, Andi!” Her tone was pleading rather than admonishing. It was a tone I’d never heard from her before. “I really need you here. I’m sorry to take you away from David and your weekend, but this is more than an invitation.”
Every muscle in my body tightened. “Mom, what’s wrong?”
“I’ll even pay your ferry expenses, if you want.”
“Never mind that. I’ll be there tomorrow, OK?”
I heard what sounded like a sigh of relief. “Thank you, Andi. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
That was my signal to say good-bye. I put the phone down and went back to the den, but no one was there. I could hear voices coming from upstairs, and traced them to the study, where Wylie was sitting at the desk, a full-color, enormous book of Manet paintings spread open before her, and David standing behind her, pointing out depth-of-perception points. She looked enthralled. He looked changed.
“Excuse me, Dev?” I asked. They both looked up. “David,” I corrected. “I’m sorry to interrupt you, but could I speak to you for a moment?” I diverted to Wylie. “Excuse us, please.”
I could tell he was disappointed that I’d just disrupted the moment and broken the fledgling bond between them. We stepped into the hallway. “What?” he said slightly above a whisper, a snip to the word.
“My mother called. Something’s wrong,” I whispered back.
“What is it?”
“She wouldn’t say over the phone, but I have to go to Long Island tomorrow and stay overnight.”
“What do you mean you
have
to go? Didn’t you tell her we have Wylie here this weekend?”
“Of course I did, but she practically begged me.”
“Don’t you teach on Mondays?”
“So I’ll cancel. Missing one day of class in the semester doesn’t kill anyone.”
David brooded. “She’s going to think you don’t want her here,” he said of Wylie, pointing to the other side of the wall and trying not to raise his voice.
“Look, this is
my mother
we’re talking about. She doesn’t ask me for anything unless she really needs it. I don’t know what’s going on, but she needs me, and I’m not saying no to her.”
He shook his head and muttered, “Fine,” as we reentered the
“Hi, Mom,” I said.
“Where were you?”
“In Amherst with Wylie. She’s staying with us for the weekend.” I was trying to speak nonchalantly, as if this were something we did every Saturday.
“Wylie? The daughter?” my mother asked. “Already? Aren’t you rushing things a bit?”
I dipped into another room, out of earshot from David and Wylie. “It’s what he wants,” I said. “We both do. And they should get to know each other.”
“Are you sure she’s not some golddigger?”
“Mom!”
“Not her personally. I mean maybe her mother is putting her up to it.”
“I’ve met her mother. Trust me, she’s not putting anyone up to anything. And I told you, Wylie just wants to know her real father. I want that for her too. It’s something I never had at her age.”
“It’s not like your father wasn’t around at all before he died.”
“But I didn’t
know
him. And I never felt understood or appreciated by him. I know you don’t like to hear me say such things, but that’s how I felt.”
The line went quiet for a few seconds before she resumed the conversation and changed the subject. “I called to ask you to come over tomorrow and stay overnight. Your brothers will be here too.”
“Sorry,” I said. “Can’t. Next weekend, perhaps?”
“It has to be tomorrow.”
“Why?”
“Because it does. It’s hard enough getting your brothers to stay in one place for more than a week or two, and I’ve got several appointments in the coming week.”
“What, are you running for election?” I quipped.
“Please, Andi!” Her tone was pleading rather than admonishing. It was a tone I’d never heard from her before. “I really need you here. I’m sorry to take you away from David and your weekend, but this is more than an invitation.”
Every muscle in my body tightened. “Mom, what’s wrong?”
“I’ll even pay your ferry expenses, if you want.”
“Never mind that. I’ll be there tomorrow, OK?”
I heard what sounded like a sigh of relief. “Thank you, Andi. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
That was my signal to say good-bye. I put the phone down and went back to the den, but no one was there. I could hear voices coming from upstairs, and traced them to the study, where Wylie was sitting at the desk, a full-color, enormous book of Manet paintings spread open before her, and David standing behind her, pointing out depth-of-perception points. She looked enthralled. He looked changed.
“Excuse me, Dev?” I asked. They both looked up. “David,” I corrected. “I’m sorry to interrupt you, but could I speak to you for a moment?” I diverted to Wylie. “Excuse us, please.”
I could tell he was disappointed that I’d just disrupted the moment and broken the fledgling bond between them. We stepped into the hallway. “What?” he said slightly above a whisper, a snip to the word.
“My mother called. Something’s wrong,” I whispered back.
“What is it?”
“She wouldn’t say over the phone, but I have to go to Long Island tomorrow and stay overnight.”
“What do you mean you
have
to go? Didn’t you tell her we have Wylie here this weekend?”
“Of course I did, but she practically begged me.”
“Don’t you teach on Mondays?”
“So I’ll cancel. Missing one day of class in the semester doesn’t kill anyone.”
David brooded. “She’s going to think you don’t want her here,” he said of Wylie, pointing to the other side of the wall and trying not to raise his voice.
“Look, this is
my mother
we’re talking about. She doesn’t ask me for anything unless she really needs it. I don’t know what’s going on, but she needs me, and I’m not saying no to her.”
He shook his head and muttered, “Fine,” as we reentered the
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