“Don't be stupid, Mom. You're a lot more fun than Dad is, you always have been. I don't understand what happened. Did he say anything before this?” Meg was trying to make sense of it, but there was no sense to make, it was what he wanted. Rachel was what he wanted. Not Paris. But Meg had no clue about it.
“He never said anything until Friday night,” Paris said, relieved to be talking to her daughter. Between her and Wim and their unfailing support, she felt a fraction better than she had all weekend. And at least neither of them had blamed her. She had been afraid that they might, thinking she had done something dreadful to their father. But Meg was very clear about her feelings, and where to put the blame. She was furious with her father.
“He sounds like a nutcase. Will he go to counseling with you?”
“Maybe. Not to put the marriage back together. He said he'd only go if it would help me adjust to his divorcing me. Not to save the marriage.”
“He's crazy,” Meg said bluntly, wishing she were at home with her mother and brother. She hated being this far away at a time of crisis. “Where is he? Did he tell you?”
“He said he was going to stay at a hotel in the city, and he'd call me tomorrow about the details. He wants me to use one of his lawyers.” It was more than she had told Wim, but Meg was older, and of considerable comfort. Her outrage somehow made Paris feel more human. “I suppose he must be at the Regency. He usually stays there, if he's in town, because it's close to the office.”
“I want to call him. Was he planning to tell me, or did he just expect you to do it?” Meg was both heartbroken and fuming, but her anger kept all the other emotions she felt from coming to the surface. She hadn't even begun to deal with the loss and grief yet. Wim, possibly because he was younger and could see the state his mother was in, was more frightened.
“He knew I'd tell you. I think that was easier for him,” Paris said sadly.
“How's Wim doing?” Meg asked, sounding worried.
“He cooked me dinner. Poor kid, I've been in bed all weekend.”
“Mom,” her daughter said sternly, “you can't let this destroy you. I know it must be tough, and it's been a terrible shock. But weird things happen. He could have died too. I'm glad he didn't. Sometimes people just go crazy. I think he did. I don't know why, but this doesn't sound like him. I thought you guys would be married forever.”
“So did I,” Paris said, as tears stung her eyes again. She felt as though she hadn't stopped crying since Friday. “I don't know what to do now. What am I going to do for the rest of my life without him?” She started to sob then, and it was half an hour later before Meg asked to talk to her brother. When he got on the line, Paris got off, and the two siblings talked to each other for an hour. Their conclusion at the end of it was that their father had gone temporarily insane, and hopefully would recover. Wim still had some faint hope that he would come to his senses. Meg was less certain, and she was still wondering about another woman.
She called the Regency after she hung up, but he wasn't registered there, and she tried several other hotels, and never found him. He was of course staying with Rachel, but none of them knew that. And she got up at six o'clock the next morning to call him at nine New York time, in his office.
“What's going on, Dad?” she asked, for openers, hoping to get him to tell her honestly what had happened. “I didn't know you and Mom were having problems.” She tried to sound sane and rational, and not accusatory, so he would talk to her. But he seemed more than willing, and surprisingly honest.
“We weren't,” he said fairly. “I am. How is she? Did you talk to her?” But he knew she had, since she had called him to inquire about their “problems.”
“She sounds terrible.” Meg didn't pull any punches, and wanted him to feel guilty. He deserved to. “Did you just have a fit or something, and fly off the handle?” But that wasn't like him either.
He sighed before he answered his daughter. “I've thought about this for a long time, Meg. I guess I was wrong not to say anything to her sooner. I thought I might feel differently if I waited, but I don't. This is just something I need to do, for me. I feel like I'm buried alive with her in Greenwich, and my life is over.”
“Then get an apartment in New York, and move. Both of you. You don't have to divorce her.” She was beginning to feel hopeful. Maybe there was a solution, and she felt as though she owed it to her mother to help him find it. Maybe he would actually listen to her.
“I can't stay married to her, Meg. I'm not in love with her anymore. I know that's awful to say, but it's honest.” Her hopes were dashed in an instant.
“Did you tell her that?” Meg held her breath as she waited, realizing the full weight of the blow her mother had taken. It was beyond thinking.
“As tactfully as I could. But I had to be honest with her. I'm not going to put our marriage back together. I wanted her to know that.”
“Oh. Now what? Where do you both go from here?” She was fishing, but not brave enough to ask yet. She felt sick for her mother. This was not what she deserved after twenty-four years of marriage.
“I don't know, Meg. She'll find someone eventually. She's a beautiful woman. It probably won't take long.” It was an incredibly insensitive, cavalier thing to say, and Meg wanted to hit him for it.
“She's in love with you, Dad,” she said sadly.
“I know she is, baby. I wish I were still in love with her. But I'm not.” Rachel had changed that. Forever.
“Is there someone else, Dad?” She was old enough for him to be honest with her, but he hesitated. Just long enough to arouse his daughter's suspicions.
“I don't know. There might be. Eventually. I have to sort things out first with your mother.” It was an evasive answer, and spoke volumes to her.
“That's such a rotten thing to do to Mom, she doesn't deserve this.” All her sympathies lay with her mother, as Wim's did. He had done the damage, and he didn't have to pick up the pieces. She did. And they did. And he couldn't just assume that she'd find someone else, like changing hats or shoes or dresses. She might never find someone else, nor want to. She might be in love with him forever. In Meg's opinion, and her mother's, it was tragic.
“I know she doesn't deserve this,” he said sadly. “I care about her a great deal, and I always will. I'll try to make this easy for her,” if for no other reason than to soothe his conscience. He had felt sick with guilt all weekend, but his passion for Rachel was undimmed. If anything, now that he was free to pursue it, it was stronger.
“How easy can it be to lose your husband and everything you care about? It's going to be awful for her when Wim goes away to college. What's she going to do, Dad?” There were tears in Meg's voice as she asked him. She was worried sick about her mother.
“I don't know. She'll have to figure that out, sweetheart. This happens to people. Things change. Lives go in different directions. People die, and get divorced, and fall out of love. It just happens. It could have happened to her, instead of me.”
“But it didn't,” Meg insisted. “She would never have left you. She could never have done that,” she said loyally. She still loved her father, but she was heartbroken for her mother. Meg no longer understood him. He sounded like a stranger. A selfish, childish, spoiled stranger. She had never before seen him as self-centered.
“I suspect you're right,” Peter admitted. “She's incredibly loyal and decent. I don't deserve that.”