"Used you? How?"
"In the beginning she would take me along. She knew that way my father would never have any suspicions if she did that."
"Take you where?" I asked, trying not to seem too excited or interested, for fear she would stop.
"To her assignations. Oh, she didn't have just one lover, you know, no matter what she wrote in those ridiculous letters, those fantasies she wanted you to believe about the great love of her life. It all started when I was young. She would take me along supposedly to see a decorator or an architect," she said with that brittle laugh tinkling again. "What sort of decorator or architect worked out of his bedroom, huh? We'd go to a toy store and she would buy me something to occupy me while she did her dirties. I would be told to wait in the living room while Mommy dearest went to consult about redoing our house. Don't you think I could hear them sometimes, could hear their disgusting noises?"
"Didn't you say anything to her?" I asked, practically in
a whisper.
"I didn't know what to say. I was too young to really understand, and besides, I was brought up to be obedient, to speak only when spoken to."
"Your father never found out?"
"Not until much, much later, not until you," she said with such disgust it made me feel more like a big germ than a person. Even when she was in her forties, she was still misbehaving, only now I knew exactly what she was doing and exactly whom she was doing it with," she added, and started out of the room.
"But..."
"Stop," she commanded, spinning around on me. "Don't you see why I don't want to talk about it? It's better you never knew her as your mother. Who wants a mother like that? A slut, a tramp, a whore!" she screamed.
She stared at me a moment and then took a few steps back toward me.
"Why did I hide those things up in the crawl space? I'll tell you why. They're all spoiled,
contaminated by her filthy hands, her pathetic attempts to make herself seem like the victim. Poor Lea," she said, wagging her head and twisting her lips, "poor, poor dear Lea forced into a horrible marriage with a handsome, wealthy, and respected man who only gave her the best things and tried to make her happy. Poor Lea with her servants and big house and cars and jewels and furs. Poor, poor Lea was denied...what?"
"Love?" I suggested, thinking about the letter I had read.
"Oh, love." Her sardonic smile wilted to be replaced by her dark look. "You don't go looking for love in the back of automobiles or in the bedrooms of strange men. Love is something that is nurtured, something that grows with time."
"Maybe she couldn't do that with a forced marriage." "Nonsense. Any woman who is decent at heart and has respect for the right things can do that:'
"You didn't want to get married, did you?" I pointed out. "That was forced on you."
"I did what had to be done," she said, straightening her shoulders firmly. "Thanks to her, I had to make great sacrifices, but I didn't do it for her. I did it for my father who didn't deserve being embarrassed and disgraced."
She paused to take a breath. It looked like she was in pain doing it.
"All right? Are you satisfied now? Can you appreciate me now? Will you be obedient?" she asked.
"I just want to have friends," I moaned.
"You will, but proper and noinial ones. We don't need to bring any more turmoil into our lives, Cathy," she said with such a reasonable soft tone of voice that I had to look up. "It's just the two of us, now. Leave the ugly world out there and leave the ugly past where it belongs, buried," she pleaded.
I looked down. Maybe she was right, I thought wearily. Maybe my mother was loose and reckless and maybe I would become like her if I didn't listen. I had to agree that it certainly wasn't right to take your own daughter along when you met secretly with some lover.
"Won't you tell me where I was born," I begged.
"She went to our winter house in Palm Springs and stayed secluded there until you were born. Then you were left with a nurse for almost six months before Howard and I legally adopted you. My father fixed it all. It broke his heart, but he did what had to be done because he was a man of strength."
"So you know who my father was," I said.
"No," she said quickly, too quickly, I thought.
"But you said you knew what she was doing and with whom."
"Your father could be any one of a number of womanizers, I'm sure," she said, but I didn't think she was telling the truth. "Now let me go make us some lunch," she said. "It makes me feel disgusting even talking about this," she added and left the room. It was as if she had drawn out all the air with her.