The Truth Is a Theory Page 15

  The dining room was empty, all the tables waiting patiently with little napkin teepees and fresh daisies. “Good morning miss,” she heard several times as her sandals clicked across the polished floor, and she felt as if “bride” were beaming on a marquee over her head. Steaming coffee was presented to her with panache, and once armed, she wandered outside onto the porch and dropped into an oversized rocker.

  The birds had followed her, although out here, overlooking the oval pool and colorful gardens, they weren’t annoying. They were the backup band to the singing in her heart. All her screaming fears about marriage had been silenced over the past few months. She couldn’t put her finger on exactly what had changed, but whatever adjustment had occurred in her mind, it had been bolstered immeasurably by Dana’s conviction, his unwavering belief that their marriage was the most important ingredient in their lives. “I feel it in my bones,” he liked to say. And when he dressed up as a skeleton on Halloween, she had thrown up her hands and laughed.

  “I believe,” she said. And she really did.

  She twirled the small diamond ring on her right hand and watched the sun dance in its fire, still astonished at this most unexpected gift from her father. Earlier in the week, he had driven up to Dana’s house unannounced, appearing at the Sexton’s door just as Dana’s father, Chris, was stirring his martini.

  Joseph Mussoni stood tall at the door, offered his hand and a warm hello to Sharon and Chris, and then caught eyes with Allie standing behind them. He stammered through the rest of his greeting.

  “I thought we could, um, have a quiet dinner together.”

  They hugged—two stiff bodies meeting but not softening, a double pat on the back like a rap on a tight drum, and then a rapid step back.

  Allie could hear her heart hammering in her ears, and that pissed her off. How dare her heart go from zero to 60 for this man. Why hadn’t he called? He must have known that she would whip up some excuse, some prior engagement to shut him out. Or maybe he had wanted to leave himself an out in the event that his feet became cold en route; with no plans in place nobody would’ve been the wiser.

  Whatever his reasoning, by just materializing from out of nowhere Allie had no choice but to accept—graciously of course, as they were surrounded—his invitation to dinner. Underneath her royal composure however, she was flailing. He had intentionally cornered her, and perhaps even more criminal, he had thrust their alien relationship onto center stage, so that the entire Sexton family—all of whom had magically appeared from every corner of the house—could witness their uncomfortable reunion.

  Joseph was ushered into the house with a flourish by Sharon and Chris, and folded into a suddenly interesting cocktail hour. Allie excused herself from the brie and first-date conversation and escaped upstairs to “her” guest room, ostensibly to change, but in reality to take a deep breath, gather her thoughts, and moor her pounding heart. She sank onto the bed. Why is he here? Curiosity seesawed with fear. Any good news he had to share with her could have been discussed over the phone, or at the wedding in a few days. Did he lose his job? Does he have cancer? Was something wrong with Paul or Kevin? No, if it was bad news, he wouldn’t be chatting and sipping away downstairs, would he? She slammed her fist down on the quilt. Damn! The mailed, formal invitation had been specific in its time, date, and attire.

  She heard feet taking the stairs two at a time and seconds later Dana burst in.

  “Are you okay?”

  “I just needed a moment. What’s happening down there?”

  “My mom is in her element; they’re all chatting away, lifelong buddies.” They shared a smile over Sharon’s hostess skills; she could make a serial killer cocktail-party appropriate.

  He sat down on the bed next to her. “Do you want me to come with you to dinner?”

  Part of her wanted—needed—him with her. She sighed. “No, I should do this on my own. He is my father after all,” she rolled her eyes, “and for whatever reason, he suddenly felt the need to talk to me. In person, no less. I guess I should hear why.”

  Dana opened his mouth to say something, and then shut it. “Okay.”

  She stood up and smoothed down her white linen pants. “We should get back to the festivities. Give me a minute so that I look like I was primping up here and not just freaking out.”

  She took her time in front of the mirror, resisting the pull from downstairs with the concrete task of brushing her hair and applying makeup. Then, freshly perfumed and lipsticked, Allie rejoined cocktail hour, slipping into a corner chair next to Dana and wishing she could disappear inside the chatter that whirled around her. Someone asked a question, and while her father answered, she studied this stranger sitting casually in an armchair in the middle of her life.

  The breeze of his perfect manners and appropriate modesty felt familiar, and she felt woozy from the déjà vu of the many times she had sat across the room from him, gawking at his social smoothness like it was a strange outfit he put on before a special occasion. He was involved in a genial back-and-forth with Dana’s parents about golf (oh Jesus, did he even play golf?). The light repartee however, did not gloss over the fact that there was something somber about him. He had perfect timing and all the right lines, but behind the casual smile, he seemed deep inside himself, somewhere else entirely. Allie wondered if today he was unconsciously feeling her lack of respect. Unlike at his big corner office, here in this living room he had no uppercase, gold-plated title; here in front of his estranged daughter, he was just dad. Lowercase d.

  She wondered what the Sextons thought of him; they were all skiing gracefully through the moguls of this unexpected encounter, but she knew they would only let their real, uncensored feelings fly afterwards, over the scrape and clatter of the dirty dishes. Knowing she wouldn’t be around for the dishing, she tried to assess Joseph through their eyes. Tall and slim, words that could have been a prelude to “handsome,” but in this case were a kind whitewash for gaunt. Sharon always said that the eyes said it all, and his brown eyes were not an asset; like thick, burnt coffee, they swallowed rather than reflected the light, and did not shade and soften along with the emotional gradation in the room. The Sextons would appreciate that he had taken care with his appearance however; he had cropped his gray hair rather than comb it over a bald spot, and he had added a tie and a flawlessly-cut navy blazer to his off-hours uniform of khakis and a starched button-down. Despite the expensive clothes however, the man was muted, camouflaged within the waspy cocktail conversation. Perhaps that was his intent.

  On the way to the restaurant, Allie was silent. She sat in the far right corner of the passenger seat; if she could have hung out of the window to put more distance between them, she would have. She was a young girl again, being driven to a friend’s house, suffering the 10 minutes or so in confined, bitter silence; hating him for not speaking, snapping a sarcastic reply when he dared try. Then and now, the radio did its best to fill the morose void.

  Unfortunately, inside the restaurant there was no such audible filler. For a short time the menus consumed their undivided attention, but when that paper barrier was pried away by the waiter, it was either conversation or silence.

  “Dana seems like a good guy.”

  “He is.”

  Joseph fingered his empty wine glass. “And you’re happy?”

  Not at the moment. Her brows furrowed together. “Are you?”

  The waiter arrived with their drinks. Allie took her wine right from his hand. “Thanks,” she said to him. “Oh, and you can bring the salad with the steak, we don’t need a first course.”

  Joseph took a big sip from his cabernet. He cleared his throat. “How’s your job?”

  “I just quit.” She saw him wince, and she took a deep breath, filed down her sharp edge. “I had to. Dana and I are going to live in Boston, at least until he finishes law school.”

  “I think you’ll like Boston.”


  How the hell would you know? “How’s Paul?”

  They batted information about other people—family, friends of the family, then old neighbors—back and forth until their meals arrived. Then they turned their attention to their food.

  “So are you ready for your big day?” Joseph asked after several quiet minutes and half their meal had disappeared.

  Allie reminded herself that her knife was for cutting her meal only. She looked him in the eye. “I’m taking his name, you know. I’ll be Allie Sexton.”

  He put his knife and fork down and reached across the table to take her hand. She instinctively recoiled, and his hand froze halfway across the white tablecloth and hung there, limp and without purpose.

  “Allie… ”

  Their eyes locked together; for the first time in as long as she could remember, neither of them looked away. He cleared his throat. “I know I’ve been a terrible father to you. I haven’t been there for you when you’ve needed me, and well, I haven’t been there when you haven’t needed me either.” The corners of his mouth trembled into a sorrowful smile. “I’ve failed you, and Kevin and Paul, and for that, I’ll be forever ashamed.”

  Oh God. Please don’t. She had the urge to put her hands over her ears. Instead, she let her breath out slowly.

  He must have taken her exhalation as a prelude to a response; he held up his hand. “Wait, let me finish, because this isn’t about me, and I’m not looking for forgiveness from you. I’ll take it,” his smile flickered again, “but that’s not why I’m here. I want to give you something, and to tell you something.”

  He took a deep breath. “I can’t imagine what my failure as a husband and as a father, and what your mother’s… absence has done to you, and to your feelings about family, about marriage. We made irreparable mistakes…” His voice drifted off for a moment and he gazed out across the crowded restaurant.

  Allie was scared to move as he lifted his wine to his lips and sipped, as if for fuel. His eyes found hers again. “But you must not let our failure impact your future. Some marriages are solid—your grandparents’ for instance. They loved each other, they had a good partnership. I’m sure they made mistakes too, but they worked them out together. You never knew them—they died when you were so young—but they were good people and good parents.” He pulled a small velvet box out of his coat pocket and looked at it in his hand for a moment. Then he reached across the table and put it in front of Allie. “Anyway, I thought you should have this.”

  Allie, floating above herself, watched her hands take the box and slowly open it. Inside was a small, emerald-cut diamond ring set in a simple platinum band. She gaped at her father.

  “It was your grandmother’s engagement ring. I want you to have it. Maybe it will remind you that marriage can be healthy and enduring. That it’s something you cultivate and create, just you and Dana. I want you to have it so you’ll know that although I’ve never been able to find the words or the time or the… well, you’ve turned into an extraordinary woman. And Dana is a lucky man.” He stopped abruptly, as if his cue cards had fallen to the floor.

  “Thank you.” Allie said the words so softly that she wondered if the noise from the restaurant had swallowed them up. She held the ring for a moment, felt its weight, watched the light flicker inside the stone. Then she slipped the ring onto her right ring finger.

  She felt dizzy as the familiar, silent awkwardness flooded back in between them, and she wished for Dana, if only so that someone could confirm for her later that this hadn’t been a very strange dream. The musical conversations continued around them, but their brief, heartfelt bridge had vanished. Allie didn’t know what to say, and Joseph was all talked out; he had finished his well-rehearsed speech, and there was nothing left in his repertoire. A few minutes later, the waiter bustled by and cleared away their half-eaten dinners.

  It wasn’t until she was back in her little room at the Sexton’s and her dad was well on his way back to New Jersey that she realized he had never said, “I love you.”

  ————

  Allie finished her coffee as slowly as she could, and then brought two fresh mugs of it back up to the room. Megan was still asleep, but this time, Allie put the coffee on the bedside table and gently shook her.

  “Okay, okay,” Megan mumbled. “I’m up.”

  “Sorry, I just can’t wait anymore. I’ve been up forever.”

  “I know, I heard you getting dressed a while ago. You’re very graceful.” Megan sat up and reached for the mug of coffee. “Thanks for this.” She wrapped both hands around the smooth ceramic. “What time is everyone getting together for breakfast?”

  “Sharon said nine.”

  Megan smirked at Allie.

  Allie smiled. “Nine’s fine.”

  “What’s she going to do with herself after today is over?”

  “Dana wouldn’t let her touch the honeymoon, so my guess is, start planning for the grandkids.”

  Megan rolled her eyes. “Poor kids.”

  Allie chuckled, then caught herself. “Or lucky, depending on how you look at it. I couldn’t have done all this without her.”

  Allie knew that Sharon and Chris had cultivated weeds and weeds of doubts about her over the years. The party line had always been that they were “fond” of Allie, but it was clear that underneath her perfunctory hug, Sharon was busy scanning the room for a more suitable girlfriend for her son. But both of Dana’s parents had smothered their doubts and embraced Allie wholeheartedly when they announced their engagement. And moments after the announcement, Sharon leapt into a second career: wedding planner extraordinaire. “We’ll need to reserve the country club, the florist, find a band… Oh, I’m sorry! I just assumed, will you have the wedding here?”

  Allie and Dana had already talked about it; she wanted to walk down the aisle in Dana’s hometown. Although her father would finance the wedding, she didn’t want him even peripherally involved in the planning. Not that he would want to. But this way, Allie couldn’t be disappointed by her father’s indifference. All he had to do was show up and walk her down the aisle. And until he had shown up with her grandmother’s ring, she had been afraid to even count on that.

  Allie put her coffee cup down on Megan’s bedside table. “Let’s go for a swim.”

  Megan cocked her head.

  “Come on, it’ll wake us up and wash away any of last night’s cobwebs. We can take our coffee down to the pool.” She giggled at Megan’s reaction. “Come on, it’s a beautiful morning.”

  “I’m not sure you need any additional waking up, or any more caffeine for that matter.” Megan eyeballed Allie’s coffee cup. “But it’s your day, I’m at your mercy. Just tell me you’re not planning on skinny dipping.”

  “I wasn’t, but it’s a good idea.”

  They changed into their suits and brought their coffee down to the deserted pool. Megan gratefully stretched out on a lounge chair while Allie walked up to the edge of the pool and dove in.

  “Whoa!” Allie sputtered when she came up. “It’s freezing!” She swam over to the side where Megan was lying and hung onto the edge of the pool. “A wee bit hungover this morning?”

  “A little.” Megan shielded her eyes from the sun as she squinted at Allie. “Aren’t you?”

  “Actually, I think the adrenaline has outbid it for my attention. Thank God, it would be awful to be hungover on my wedding day. I didn’t mean to drink that much.”

  “Me neither. All that wine snuck up on me.”

  “It was all the toasts.” Allie grinned at the memory of last night’s rehearsal dinner. So many good friends and family members all clicking glasses together; it was a night that even her father, who had remained on the sidelines of the alternately touching toasts and ribbing roasts, couldn’t cast a pall over. The whole thing had been exquisite, and she assumed it was just a prelude to tonight’s ev
en bigger celebration.

  “Speaking of drinking a lot, what’d you think of Zoe’s date?” Megan eased off of her lounge chair. She sat at the edge of the pool and dangled her legs in. “Oh my God, you’re insane! This water is icy.”

  Allie laughed. “I think I’m numb. Bob? Gorgeous, of course. I don’t know beyond that, I didn’t talk to him much. Seemed nice enough.”

  “They work together. I guess he does really well at Goldman, Sachs; makes a ton of money.” Megan swished her feet under the water.

  “I could’ve guessed that. What’d you think of him?”

  “He was a little… slick. I’m imagining a gold chain and muscle tee underneath his Brooks Brothers shirt.”

  “Now that doesn’t sound like Zoe. The only chain she would go for would be attached to the key to a Porsche.”

  “The necklace was there somewhere, if only in his history.” Megan giggled. “For a random guest, he made himself quite at home. He held court with that Jägermeister bottle like he was mayor.”

  “He did have a pied piper-like quality at the bar. I’m glad I stayed away from the shots. I wonder how Dana feels this morning.”

  “Fabulous, of course,” Megan said in the most robust voice she’d had all morning. “It’s his wedding day.”

  Allie was warm all over, despite the frigid water. Last night was pure magic; they had been flying as if doused by pixie dust, the stolen and publicly applauded kisses a physical connection to the spiritual fusion that Allie already felt in her heart. She was sure that what they shared was stronger, more authentic than any other love before them, and the soul-shifting looks that Dana shot her from across the room were confirmation that he felt the same way. The vows they planned to repeat in the church today were just redundant. Til death do us part? No problem. It was inconceivable that anything else could dim this radiance.