Erica's Story

I don't talk — I can't risk it. But she doesn't either, so there is utter silence as I clean up the mess, re-pour the glasses then re-pour again, time enough to contemplate a mounting conundrum: what conditions must exist for this intelligent, attractive, winsome woman to be hog-tied by life and held hostage by those two bellicose, badgering progeny? Her life must have been a living hell.

"It's not as bad as you think." Clearly, she is reading my mind, "I caught them off-balance. I never go to bars and, as I've said, I never have any ... company. They were shocked, that's natural ... they wanted to find out about you ... they didn't handle it very well."

"Nor did you."

"No," she nods, "I didn't."

"I could have used a little help back there." Her total acquiescence still bothers me.

"I no longer resist them." She looks over at me, her beauty stern and impassive. "I had the impression you wanted to know what makes me tick. I thought I'd show you ... the main springs."

I smile. "I think I am afraid of them."

When she smiles back I can feel the warmth. "No you aren't. You played with them and they didn't know how to take that. They like you. Yes, they have a funny way of showing it. But they did. They think I'm really old and really vulnerable and, in their own ways, they're trying to protect me."

"From what?"

"From men, from a man ... you guys don't have a good rep in this branch of the Curtis clan."

This is the first really solid bit of insight she has uttered since we met. "Because of their father?"

"And uncles, too, not just on his side, but my side, too, my brothers. The girls had their trials growing up."

"And so did you. Those two can't have been easy."

"No, they weren't. But they are worth it. They're both remarkable women in their own, unique ways. I'm very proud of them, not tonight so much, there was a little too much ... hostility on show but I knew they meant well."

"Why didn't you intervene ... make some effort to defend me?" I still can't understand that.

"Gas on a fire. I would have made it worse. Parents should be seen and not heard — haven't you heard?"

I chuckle at the memory. "I was surprised they let me walk away with you."

She shrugs. "It's my life, what's left of it. What can they do? They did their part ..."

"To scare me away ..."

"To show you they care about me ... but they're not always easy to read."

"So," I tried to speculate and laugh, "what are they thinking right now?"

She sips her wine. "Oh, probably the worst."

"That I'm ripping off your bodice?"

She smiles. "Ya, in a geriatric kind of way." She thinks twice about this and adds, "I loved last night, Allan."

"But not this morning." I am glad she brought it up before I had to.

She is looking straight ahead, as she always seems to do. "I wasn't ready for that."

"I told you I could be hard in the mornings. It was hardly a reason to bolt, no pun intended."

She puts her glass down and shuffles over and lies against me. "Let's not keep score on how many times I screw up, OK? I'm a heavily flawed woman — I get that. I'll try to improve. Do you want something to eat?"

I wrap my arms around and squeeze her gently. "Later. I'm more interested in fooling around right now."

She snuggles into me and presses my hands into her belly. It's the first time I've ever felt her relax. For the first time she actually feels sexy. I kiss her on the hair.

"I've got you a surprise."

"This is a surprise, Erica. This feels wonderful. You feel wonderful." I bring my hands up and feel her breast through her blouse. There is no flinching, no stiffening, no protest, no moving away.

"I bought some underwear today. Some pretty things. It seems to matter to you."

I put my fingers under her shirt. Her skin feels wonderfully welcoming. This is all a bonus: I thought I'd be home by now, soundly chastened by her daughters. "I'd love to see it."

"Then look."

I drop her head from my chest so I can look at her. She seems like an entirely different woman from last night and this morning ... different even from ten minutes ago ... she seems so coyly sexy. "Jeez, have you taken a few Viagra?" I asked.

She stiffens now. Pain narrows her eyes. "Don't tease me, Allan, I'm not strong enough for that." She pulls away, and hurries to the kitchen.

I wait a minute, then follow her. She is standing at the sink looking out the window. I consider going up behind her and holding her, comforting her. But I pull out a chair at the table and sit down.

I get it out without restraint. "I don't think I've ever come across anything quite so serious and important as YOUR life, Erica, and the lives of your children. Obviously, I've been insensitive. I've only now realized that I need every shred of solemn gravitas I can muster to relate to you. There can be no humour with you, no fun, no playfulness, not under your obviously challenging and daunting circumstances." I let these words sink in then add, "And, oh! I really appreciate the inference that I'm capable of teasing and taunting you for my own enjoyment. It's kind of you to point out that."

"I think you'd better go."

I thought it must be one of my kids on the line when my brother hands me the phone but when he shrugs, I know it isn't.

"It's Fergie, Mr. Carsten, Gail Curtis's partner."

It takes me a moment to place the name but only a split second later to remember the face. "Oh, yes."

"I'd like to meet with you, if you could spare a few minutes. We could meet in the little park just up from your brother's house ... on the way to Erica's?" She hesitates. "Say, in ten minutes? Would that be OK? I'm actually here now."

"Will you be wearing a rose, Fergie, or perhaps a stickpin of a camel? Should I bring a newspaper under my arm? And where should I sit? Should I acknowledge you? Do I need a briefcase for the documents?"

She laughs. "I'll be the one on the bench smiling about this."

"The really cute one with the lively personality."

"No," she laughs, "it's Fergie, Mr. Carsten, not Gail."

"See you in a minute or so."

I remember her as 'darling,' and she is. Though she is sitting alone on the bench she seems to put out an aura that surrounds her with energy ... that manifests into a wonderfully wide warm smile when she sees me.

"You're a real Mata Hari," I chuckle, sitting down.

"Who's that?" She is cute even when her face is scrunched in confusion.

"A femme fatale who doubled as a spy? WW1, I think."

She smiles mischievously. "You know very well why I'm here, Mr. Casten."

"It's Allan, Fergie and, no, I don't know why you're here, although I'll always be happy to see you. I presume it's about Erica but ...," I shrug.

"You can't just enter her life and leave it, just like that."

"Of course I can. It happens all the time."

"Well, sure, you can if you want but I don't want you to. And Gail doesn't ..."

"Gail told you that?"

She giggles, "Well, no, but she wouldn't, would she? And, of course, Erica doesn't."

"Erica asked me to leave, Fergie."

"Words, Mr. Carsten. You know very well they were just words, not exactly Erica's stock-in-trade."

"And what is, her grimaces?"

She really giggles at this, the girl is just adorable. "She really is a sour puss, isn't she?" Then she hurriedly adds, "But she doesn't have to be. She's really a wonderful person and a wonderful mother to Gail and Av. She just needs someone like you, she really needs you, Mr. Carsten, you have to give her another chance. She's really fragile right now. She really, really needs you."

"Have you talked to her?"

"Well, no, she doesn't really talk to me, I think she blames me for ... I think she thinks I seduced Gail, you know, she hasn't really ... she isn't really convinced that Gail is a lesbian ..."

"So she's shunning you?" It stunned me. "Really?"

"Well, not really shunning, it's just ... uncomfortable ..."

"And it has been from the beginning?"

She shrugs and smiles, sheepishly.

"For what? 10 years?"

"Ya, 12-13, we kind of got together in high school."

The entire family is simply ludicrous, there is no other way to look at it. I think back to yesterday and start to laugh again ... the people are just so impossibly bizarre but I stop at Fergie's frown. "Sorry, I'm not laughing at you." Then I look at her intently. "But I think I'm seeing your motive here."

"You seem like a really nice man, Mr. Carsten, somebody Erica can really use. My motive is to try to get you to give her another try ..."

"And will this make it easier for you?"

She smiles. "When we were at the pub Erica was nicer to me than usual, she even said goodbye to me. I'm thinking if she's happy maybe Gail and Ava ... and me, maybe we will be, too."

"And they aren't happy?"

"Oh, God, no, all three aren't, they're a miserable bunch but they don't have to be, they're all brilliant people, they're just really screwed up and all because of the 'men thing' — they've had a few bad experiences so they've shut men out of their lives ..."

"Until I wandered in."

"Mr. Goodbody ..." her hand flew up to her mouth and she blushed, "I didn't mean that ..."

I laugh. "Do you really think I can make a difference?"

"I know you can, Mr. Carsten. I saw the way she was with you and I know you're a good man. If you put the moves on her and give her a little time and a little... a lot of patience and forgiveness I know you can win her over ..."

"And everyone lives happily ever after?"

"Gail and Ava have to get serious. They're both marking time until their mother can get it together, I'm sure of it. Ava hates men and hasn't got a clue why: she just won't give them a chance. You can turn that around, Mr. Carsten. And as for Gail, she's afraid to really invest in me, it's because she wants her mother's acceptance of me and that isn't happening. But it will, once Erica is happy herself, once her life turns a little normal. She's a good person, she doesn't even know how she's wrecking the family. Really, Mr. Carsten, it's all good, or it will be if you just knock on her door again."

"So I'm the great saviour?"

"Ya. And not just of Erica but the whole family. Yes, including me."

Fergie is the cutest woman I have ever talked to and has laid down one of the biggest challenges I've ever had.

Fergie is clutching my arm as we near Erica's place. "I'm nervous, are you?"

"No," I say and meaning it. "I'll give it a try but if she kicks me out, she kicks me out. Right? No more saviour stuff, that's the deal."

She stops me, gets up on her tip toes and kisses me on the cheek. "She'll have to work really hard to deserve you, Mr. Carsten but I think she will. Give her a chance." She squeezes my arm and is about to turn away when she adds, "And remember. This isn't just about you and Erica, three others have a big stake in this." She laughs and punches me on the arm. "Don't screw it up."

She is surprised when she opens the door, then she turns and walks away from me, into the kitchen.

"You know I didn't mean that ... literally," she says when I sit down at the kitchen table her back to me.

"You told me to leave. 'No' is supposed to mean 'no' these days. What was I supposed to do, argue? You're a grown woman, Erica. When you tell me to leave, that's what I'll do and if you do it again I'll not come back. Is that clear?"

"I slept with you the night before for God sake."

"Is that clear?"

She looks down like a scolded kid. "Yes ... but don't take me so fucking literally. And don't lecture me all the time. I know I'm screwed up but I'm trying." She pushes off the counter. "I was going to change." She takes a step then stops and looks up at me. "Is that OK?"

I didn't need the mockery. "Are we starting at the bottom?" I couldn't disguise my ire. "I hoped you might be glad to see me."

As she floats by she gives me a quick peck on the cheek. "Glad?" She titters, it sounds remarkably like a light-hearted giggle.

I am sitting in the kitchen wondering about what Fergie had told me when Erica calls down. "What are we doing? Are we going anywhere?"

I go to the bottom of the stairs. "What would you like to do?"

"Walk, then get a bite to eat?"

We walked for more than an hour but didn't talk much. It felt like we were feeling each out again; that we were starting at the bottom.

"When do you go home?" She is watching the waiter retreat.

"Tomorrow," I say, then add, "that was my plan. But now that I'm giving you another whirl I don't know."

"You'll go the first time we disagree?"

"If you ask me to leave again, I will."

"You haven't asked me if I want you to stay."

I've decided to be perfectly frank. "I've been recruited, Erica. You don't have any say in it."

This shocks her. "Recruited?"

"Ya?" I say combatively, "I needed added incentive."

"By who?"

"Guess," I said, non-commitally.

The silence seems necessary. She is gathering her thoughts. "That lecture you gave me. Is that the way I come across? That I treat everything in my life so seriously that I'm not open to fun. Do you believe that?"

"Yes, I do. I think you've lived alone for so long and removed yourself from society so effectively that you and your girls are the sum total of your world. Ya, I believe that. Self-centredness is always a consequence of living alone for a long time. I've noticed I'm slipping into it, myself. It's been 5 years." I didn't know how she'd take this but I thought she had to hear it.

"So I'm not so much fragile as self-centred? I'm strong enough as long as the focus is where I want it?"

"You'll have to work that out, Erica. I'm lousy at psychoanalysis. I've said all I can say on the subject and I'm not positive I'm right. I'm more the 'don't worry, be happy' type."

The moment after the waiter delivered the food and wine she picked up her glass. "So, where do we go from here?"

"I'd like to get back to where we were as soon as possible ... and I hope you do too."

"To what end. You're leaving ... imminently."

"I know quite a bit about you, Erica, I've even met your family. As an example of your ... insularity, you know next to nothing about me. You've never asked. For instance, why am I in this city?"

"I assumed it was to visit your brother."

"It isn't, not the main reason anyway. A position at the university was offered to me. I am here to discuss and consider it."

She looks at me quizzically ... with an unmistakable hint of excitement. "You could have told me."

"You could have asked ... instead of been so totally engrossed in your own little world you could have shown some interest in me as a person and not just measure me in how I might affect your own life."

"OK." She drops her fork on her plate. "You know and I know I need you." I am about to butt in but she waves me away. "Let me just get this out. I'm not good at this ... dating thing. I have no experience. You know that. And I can be a bitch. So what do I do?" She grimaces. "I tell you that I want you in my life. I want to make this work. I need your help and understanding to make this work. And I need your patience. Is that too much to expect? Maybe, but you've known from the beginning who you're dealing with ..." she shrugs, and looks pathetically helpless.

"I've known from the beginning that I like your looks, Erica, I think you're beautiful. And I've learned that I love your body. But the personality? Jesus, Erica, what are you playing at? You've only got a limited number of your thousand months left. Do you really want to spend them being Erica?"

"No," she says, convincingly. "I don't. That's what this is about."

"But, can't you see, that isn't good enough. This can't just be about you. I'm not going to be just a diversion to you, or a hands-on psychoanalyst or whatever else you have in mind. You're going to have to unwrap yourself from yourself and start really giving yourself, and not just to me, to everyone, particularly your family."

She stabs at some food but drops her fork again. "OK. Are you prepared to try?"

"What do you think of Fergie?"

The question takes her by surprise. She thinks for a moment. "Did she get you ..."

"What do you think of her," I insist.

"I think she's a lovely girl who deeply loves my daughter."

"And does your daughter deeply love her?"

"Probably."

"Yet you've been miserable to Fergie from the beginning. Why?"

She pushes her chair back from the table and is about to get up.

"If you run, Erica, I run. Let's make sure we understand that."

She thinks about this, briefly. "I want to walk, OK? I'm not hungry."

"You'll not be walking away from my questions."

She stands, signals to the waitress and in two minutes we're outside. But she hasn't forgotten my question. She doesn't looks at me as we walk. "I don't know why I haven't been ... aren't more friendly to Fergie, Allan, I've just always been uncomfortable with her, it's just the way I am."

"And that's OK? You can just be 'uncomfortable with ... your daughter-in-law and leave it at that?" She didn't say anything which gave me a chance to add, "Why? God, Fergie? She's adorable, she loves your daughter, she would do anything for her. I mean, sure, by all means be uncomfortable with some people, we all are, but Fergie? What did she do, pull Gail away from you?"

Erica just keeps walking but now with a more determined step.

I took her silence as confirmation. "That's it, isn't it? You were all morose and sad, wallowing in your own misery then all of a sudden Fergie came along and pulled one of your props from under you."

"It wasn't all of the sudden, she was there all along. They went to school together."

"But Fergie took Gail from you, or that's the way it felt."

"It's not as simple as that, I'm not as simple as that. We were all hurting, we all needed to heal ..."

It just this second occurs to me. "Gail was caught at her most vulnerable: Fergie entrapped her." I laugh trying to imagine Fergie as a seductress. "You don't really believe that."

She is quiet for about 50 yards. "I did, at first, the shock and the timing was ... it was such a difficult time. Then Gail moved out — they were only 18, for God sake, and then they weren't around any more; I didn't see her, not for long periods — I blamed Fergie for that, of course I did, and then the years went by and we just ... have never ..."

"Healed your wound?"

"We have never become close. No."

"But that's insane, isn't it?"

"It happens."

"Where was Gail in all of this?"

I could feel the tension, the anger. "It was a convenience to her. It meant she had a reason not to be close to me."

"And she hasn't been?"

"It's been better in the last year or so, but no, we aren't close, not like we should be."

"And Ava?" I'm almost afraid to ask.

"No one is close to Ava."

"How often do you see her?"

"Once a month, maybe. Not much more. We have no reason to get together."

"Ya, except she happens to be your daughter."

I can feel her fury. She has tried to hold it in but she is losing her patience. "Look, Allan, we went through some difficult times ... times that pull people apart. OK? Don't make it sound ..."

"But you're the fucking mother." I lose all control. "It's your job to pull everyone together — that's what mothers do for chrissake. Jesus, Erica, this is no fucking good at all. How far away is Gail?"

"A few streets over from me. About ten minutes from here."

I get our bearings; we head in that direction: we're going to start the mending: I tell her she is about to apologize to Fergie.

"What am I going to say?" I ignore her but as we take the elevator up to her apartment I can feel her panic. "Seriously, Allan, what am I going to say. I'm so embarrassed."

"It's not going to be what you say, Erica, that has been too stupid to correct. It's how you're going to act from now on. You're redrawing the map and you want that map to lead to your place a lot more often. They're your family for God sake."