Chapter 7 - We Had Another Dinner Without Testing Anyone
Robert and Daniel had coffee.
Then another.
Then nothing for three weeks.
Daniel came home from the second meeting furious.
“He keeps apologizing.”
“That seems preferable to not apologizing.”
“No, because he uses apologies to stop the conversation.”
I understood.
Robert would say:
I’m sorry I wasn’t there.
Daniel would ask:
Why weren’t you?
Robert would say:
Because I failed you.
Which sounded profound and answered nothing.
So Daniel told him:
“Stop giving me conclusions. Tell me what you actually did.”
The next coffee was apparently terrible.
Better.
Robert admitted he had been relieved after leaving Margaret.
That was hard for Daniel.
He admitted that being alone felt good.
Worse.
He admitted that after Daniel rejected him, part of him enjoyed living somewhere nobody expected him to be a husband, father, executive, host or Bennett.
Worst.
Then he said:
“I missed you and still liked the life I had without you.”
Daniel hated that sentence.
He also trusted it more than anything Robert had said before.
Susan and I had our own version.
She apologized once.
Then tried to apologize again.
I stopped her.
“Call me when you have something besides guilt.”
She did.
A week later:
“Your aunt stole my casserole dish.”
Normal conversation.
Good.
Margaret stayed away for almost a month.
Then she texted me.
Not Daniel.
Would you be willing to meet somewhere public?
I stared at it for a day.
Then said yes.
Coffee.
Forty minutes.
No gifts.
She agreed.
She did not ask about Robert.
I noticed.
We talked about wedding venues for exactly seven minutes before I reminded her there was no date.
She corrected herself.
Also noticed.
Then she asked:
“Does your mother still cater?”
“Yes.”
“Would she ever cater something for me?”
I stared.
Margaret immediately shook her head.
“That was stupid.”
“Very.”
“I was trying to prove something.”
“I know.”
She looked embarrassed.
Good.
“Don’t hire my mother to prove you're not a snob.”
“Understood.”
Progress sometimes looks like preventing symbolic gestures before they become everybody’s problem.
Daniel and I kept the engagement.
We chose not to set another wedding date for four months.
People hated that.
Excellent.
Robert did not move back.
He lived outside Richmond.
Susan did not live with him.
They were friends.
Close ones.
That remained uncomfortable for Margaret.
It was also none of her business.
Daniel asked Robert one day:
“Did you ever love Susan?”
Robert thought.
“Not the way you mean.”
Good.
Then:
“But I loved the fact that she never needed me to be a Bennett.”
Also good.
Daniel told me later:
“I hate how much I understand that.”
Families survive dangerous amounts of understanding.
Seven months after the first engagement dinner, we had another one.
Different place.
Smaller.
My mother came.
Robert came separately.
Margaret came alone.
No wealthy friends.
No audience.
Daniel’s younger cousins.
My aunt.
A few close friends.
That was enough.
I wore a dark blue dress.
Margaret liked it.
She did not say so until I asked.
Also progress.
My handbag stayed on the chair beside me.
No one touched it.
Inside was nothing mysterious.
Wallet.
Keys.
Lipstick.
Phone.
The old white card was gone.
I had given it back to Robert during one of his visits.
He looked at it for a long time.
“Your mother kept this?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“You'd have to ask her.”
He almost did.
Then stopped.
Good.
“What should I do with it?”
he asked.
I shrugged.
“It's your card.”
He laughed softly.
“Expired twelve years.”
“Then maybe don't try dinner.”
He put it in his pocket.
No ceremony.
At our second engagement dinner, Margaret raised her glass.
For one terrible second, I flinched.
She saw.
Her face changed.
She lowered it.
“I’m sorry.”
Quiet.
Only for me.
I nodded.
Then she used both hands to set the glass on the table.
Maybe deliberate.
Maybe not.
I appreciated it either way.
Daniel stood.
Everyone expected a speech.
He looked around at Robert.
Margaret.
Susan.
Me.
Then said:
“No family history tonight.”
Robert smiled.
Margaret rolled her eyes.
Susan said:
“Thank God.”
Everyone laughed.
Daniel sat back down.
That was the whole speech.
Later, my phone began vibrating.
Daniel looked at the screen.
Robert’s old number.
We both turned toward him.
He was sitting six seats away, patting his jacket pockets.
“I lost my phone.”
I stared.
“You are calling me from it.”
He frowned.
Then Susan held up the phone from beside him.
“I’m calling her.”
Robert looked offended.
“Why?”
“You left it in my car.”
Daniel started laughing.
I did too.
Susan handed Robert his phone.
No secret message.
No impossible number.
No parent using it to force somebody else into a conversation.
Just an old man losing his phone.
Robert looked at Daniel.
“Want me to change the number?”
Daniel thought.
“No.”
“Sure?”
“Yes.”
The number had spent twelve years meaning abandonment.
Then one night it meant a secret.
Now it could simply belong to Robert.
Margaret looked at the two of them.
She still had pain in her face.
That did not disappear because everyone became more honest.
Robert had left her.
She had used Daniel's anger to make the leaving survivable.
Daniel had spent twelve years missing a father he insisted he hated.
Susan had carried another family’s secret until she turned her daughter into the match.
I had stayed too long in hostile rooms because I wanted to prove I could not be driven out.
Nobody at the table was innocent enough for a clean ending.
Good.
Daniel reached for my hand under the table.
I let him take it.
Not because his family finally approved.
Not because mine had explained everything.
May you like
Because when he wanted to know whether I was still there, he finally asked me.
And when I wanted to stay, I finally answered for myself.
