mother paused, smoked, sighed.
Well, she went on, luckily my family was kinder and helped us get started. They helped your father set up his practice, helped us buy our first house, and, well, begin the life you know.
She looked out into the dark.
And that’s the story, she said at last.
The TV had been on the whole time, the patient told her therapist. Muted, just the picture flashing over us, as if we couldn’t stand to be alone with ourselves. I looked out to see whatever Mother was looking at, and all I could see was our reflection, a mother and a daughter projected out beyond the glass, flickering in the light of the TV. They looked happier than we were, nice and normal, mother and child on a Sunday night in front of the TV. And all at once it came to me that I’d been so startled to learn about Father that I’d forgotten I still hadn’t learned anything more about my adoption.
But Mother, I said, what does all this have to do with me?
Again she looked at me as if out of a deep sleep.
You? she asked. Her brow wrinkled instantly. Her lips turned into staccato lines. Then—it was so clear; amazing; I could see the WASP de-emotion machine come to life—her brow smoothed out, her lips turned up in a big smile, and she said:
But darling! Don’t you see? It shows you that Father’s hatred of Catholics has nothing to do with you! Aren’t you happy you know this?
Happy, I repeated.
But something was wrong. I’d seen that lie sweep across her face. Maybe a minute went by, and finally I said to her:
But Mother, if Father converted when you two got married, how is it I came to you through a Catholic agency? Because by then Father was no longer a Catholic.
I had hit it exactly, the patient said to Dr. Schussler. I could tell because her bright-lie face collapsed. She looked suddenly … I suppose “haunted” is the word.
Are you sure you want to know all this, honey? she said. I mean, some things are best left alone. Sometimes it’s good not to discuss everything the way young people do these days.
Mother! There’s more to tell. I can see it in your face.
Yes. There’s more.
She sighed.
Yes. More. All right. But, you know, first you’ll make me another one of those swell martinis. And you’ll make one for yourself, sweetheart—dry and very cold, just like the last?
28.
I went into the kitchen and didn’t know what to do, she said. I hated her drinking. I hated that she made me a party to it—made me her bartender. But I knew she wouldn’t go on without another drink, and so I went through the whole martini routine again, the mixing and the shaking, and the carrying in on a tray.
Oh, thank you, darling, Mother said. I love when you serve me with a tray. It’s so very dear of you to do these little things that please me. Come and let me give you a kiss.
I knelt down beside her, so I could give her the glass without spilling any, and offered up my cheek, which she air-kissed, saying Mwa! like Dinah Shore.
The agency, Mother, I said, sitting down again. The Catholic adoption agency.
Yes. The agency, Mother said, meanwhile holding up her glass for inspection, looking for the required thin floes of ice.
You always make them just right, she said.
Mother! The agency! I said again.
She took her first sip—she even said “Ah!” like a thirsty person—then she said:
Well, I told you that there were these Catholic babies in Europe that had come under the care of the Church during the war—
You didn’t say Europe. I thought the babies were here. You didn’t say Europe.
Didn’t I? Well, they were in Europe. The war ended, and the children had come under the Church’s care under various circumstances—
Orphans and bastards.
Won’t you please stop with that! If you want to know the story, just let me tell it.
Yes, Mother.
Don’t go jumping in and running ahead the way you always do.
Yes, Mother.
All right, then. So.
She took a sip of her drink, then another.
So. Somehow the whole group around your grandfather, Grandfather Avery, was in touch with someone from the Catholic Church, a high muckety-muck, someone “highly placed in the Church hierarchy,” he was told. And this functionary was arranging for the children to be placed in Catholic homes, both in Europe and here. It was all very hush-hush because …
She paused, looked out the