Chapter 21
Roger
Danielle hung up three times on me before I finally stopped calling her. What was the point? She had made it pretty clear that she wanted nothing to do with me anymore.
Still, when I showed up to work the next day, I was hoping to see her.
All morning, I waited in the lobby. No Danielle.
After a while, Rita spotted me and accosted me at once. “What happened last night?” She asked. “Danielle running around in tears, that crazy girl who looked like a whore. What the hell was going on in your apartment last night? What, did you have a party?”
I let her finish her sardonic tirade before meeting her eyes. In an instant, she knew something terrible had happened.
“Oh, Roger, I’m so sorry,” she murmured. “I liked Danielle a lot, despite her age. You two were good together.”
“I thought so, too,” I said. “But apparently not good enough.” I sighed, and Rita clapped my shoulder. After a moment, and a deep breath, I took on a businesslike air and said, “Keep up the search for a nanny for Maggie. And also, begin looking for someone to replace Danielle in her position. I…I don’t think she’s coming back.”
“What a shame,” Rita replied. It struck me that Veronica had said almost exactly the same thing. How different it sounded, coming out from those two women. I nodded, and, mercifully, Rita left. Then, I went to my office, and locked myself inside.
Another man – perhaps a younger one – would have chased after her, but I knew better. If she was still interested, she would have called me by now. Besides, I thought grimly, there really is only one woman for me.
Victoria.
And she’s been dead in the ground for years.
I found this thought, though macabre, to be oddly soothing. It’s not that I wasn’t made for love, I told myself. It’s just that I already found my one.
And as much as I knew that Danielle would be devastated, I was also sure that she would be okay. She was young, vivacious, optimistic. She’d be sad for a while, but then would bounce right back. It was one of those things I really liked about her.
Had liked, I thought. Had liked.
The person I was most worried about was Maggie. How could I explain what happened? What would she think, once she finally did understand? I couldn’t possibly say. It’s not that I didn’t know my daughter well. It’s that she had never encountered a situation like this before.
I have to find a way to make her understand without hurting her, I promised myself. But I knew, deep down, that that was probably impossible.
I’ve been a horrible father to her, I realized in a sudden pang. Parading around with woman. Screwing her nanny. Getting so lost in my grief that her studies suffered. I’ve been terrible. Absolutely terrible.
So what should I do?
By the end of that workday, I knew what needed to be done. Maggie wasn’t going to like it, but in the end, I thought that this little bit of pain would be far better than the lifelong problems I was surely giving her be being irresponsible, grief-stricken, and negligent.
I took comfort in the fact that, though my plan would hurt her terribly, it would hurt me far worse.
And I deserved that.
As usual, she was already home when I arrived. Even without her nanny, she was studiously working on her homework, and looked practically angelic sitting there in my kitchen.
I took a deep breath and swallowed. It has to be done, I kept telling myself. It has to be done. In my pocket, a squeezed a crumbled piece of paper, over and over.
“Maggie?” I said.
“Yes, dad?”
“You know that Danielle and I broke up.”
“Yes,” she said. “I still don’t understand why though.”
“I’m not sure I do, either,” I admitted. “Maybe one day, we’ll both understand.”
There was an awkward silence.
“Is there something else?” Maggie ventured.
“Yes, dear. There is. You see, I…I have been doing a lot of thinking, and I’ve realized several things.”
She waited for me to go on.
“First of all, my behavior towards you has been unforgivable. I got lost in my grief for your mother, when I should have been looking after you. I’m so sorry.”
She nodded. “That’s okay, dad.”
“I was also really irresponsible with Danielle. I liked her a lot, but that still doesn’t change the fact that I shouldn’t have gotten involved with your nanny. It was selfish and unprofessional of me.”
Maggie chuckled. “I’m glad you two dated,” she said. “She made you happy, at least for a bit.”
I was glad she was taking all of this so well so far. Because the heart of the matter – what I knew would hurt her the most – was yet to come.
I took a deep breath and said, “And that brings me to my third thing. I…I’ve shown that I am not capable of raising you properly right now, even with a nanny. That’s why…I’ve decided to send you to Brookdale.”
Maggie stared. Her grip on her pencil went slack, and it fell loosely to the tabletop. She didn’t seem to notice.
“Brook…Brookdale?”
“Yes, dear. I think it’s the best option.”
“B-but you promised! You said if I got my grades up and behaved well, we could stay together!”
Her voice cracked as she spoke, and I could see tears forming in her eyes. I felt my own sadness welling up in me as well, and I fought it back. I needed to be strong. For Maggie.
“I know, Mags,” I said, “but things are different now. I know how smart you are, and that you’ll excel at Brookdale. I have no doubt of that.
“But dad, it would mean being apart. You don’t want that, do you?”
She sounded so small and plaintive that I rushed over to her, sweeping her into a hug.
“Of course not, my dear, but I really think it would be the best for both of us. I have a lot of thinking to do, and you need a good place to grow up.”
“You’re leaving me! Daddy, no! You’re leaving me! You promised you wouldn’t and now you’re leaving me!”
Her tears broke into full out sobs, and she spasmed against me, pounding my chest with her fists.
“I’m so sorry, Mags,” I whispered. “So, so sorry – ”
“No, you’re not! You jerk! You meanie! You…you…bastard!”
It was an adult rage that flung that last word out, and she gasped right after she said it. She stopped trembling, and I loosened my arms so that she could lean back.
But she didn’t just lean. She bolted, slipping from my embrace and sprinting to her bedroom.
“I hate you!” She cried, then:
Slam!
Her bedroom door closed like the clash of thunder, and I was left alone at the kitchen table, heartbroken but resolved that, ultimately, I had done to right thing.
Like a lost soul, I wandered over to the living room, clicked on the television, and poured myself a drink.
I did not hear a single word it said all night.