Chain of Vengeance: Chapter Four - Part Three

Jennifer stood against the hearth, the slim line of her body meeting the mantelpiece at chest height. Her arm was extended, fingers touching a picture of Molly and Ruben.

She didn’t look at Molly as she prepared to speak. Though her tears were dry, the feeling that had brought them on shimmered visibly beneath the surface of her face. Molly sat half way across the room on the chaise longue, legs together, knees raised, her hands gripping the fabric beneath her thighs.

“Your father and I met thirty two years ago,” began Jennifer finally. “We – both of us – fell in what we thought was love.”

“And it wasn’t?”

Jennifer looked round, eyes clear for the first time. “I honestly don’t know.” She turned back to the picture. “You know most of everything: about my career as an actress and how your father helped me; partly by casting me in films he directed, partly by using his influence. You’ve read my book.” Molly nodded. “And you remember the arguments. Don’t you.”

“Yes Mother.”

Dark in the bedroom, tree shadows on the ceiling; her mother’s raised voice; her father’s.

“We divorced,” continued Jennifer, “and I was so glad to see the back of him. I took you and Ruben with me; he didn’t get you. I used the money I got to set up here.

“I remember standing in the hallway when we arrived, the staircase rising up around me in a spiral, sunlight coming down from that beautiful circular skylight we have. You and Ruben were at my feet. I looked up at the sky through the glass; it was so blue; and I realised I was completely free; that no-one could ever hold me back again.”

Molly stirred, shifting her legs. “You told that story on TV a couple of times.”

Jennifer nodded. “I was a symbol back in those days.” She smiled. “Did you ever read the article they wrote about me in Time?”

Molly shook her head.

“It was a female journalist. Katie somebody; I don’t know. She said I was a REAL WOMAN; that I was an inspiration to women everywhere.” The corners of her mouth turned up. “Until the following month when they forgot all about me.

“But the funniest thing Molly,” she said, “about that image; that memory – the story I told all those television viewers – the picture I’ve kept in my head all these years... It’s a lie. It never happened; not like I said.

“I stood in that hallway with you and Ruben at my feet and my heart was breaking. I could barely see the sky through my tears.”

Molly sat forward, a weight pressing into her stomach suddenly.

“I hated your father,” said Jennifer, voice husky and quiet. “At every chance I cut his name and reputation. Even if it destroyed my own.”

Molly made to stand up but couldn’t. She just watched.

“A year after the divorce I was at the academy awards. It was my swan song. I was the one opening the envelope and everyone knew my career was finished. This would be my last appearance. It was an old favour that I was there at all and I’d had to be… repellent to one of the men on the committee to get that.”

“Mother!”

Jennifer smiled wearily. “Don’t be so shocked.

“Before the ceremony people I’d known came, effectively, to say goodbye. There was distaste in their eyes at my public crusade to slur Robert but they were still… polite. As I left the stage after giving the award I glanced back into the lights; into the crowd and I knew… I knew. Then I turned away from it all and there was your father right in front of me. I have no idea what he was doing backstage. He never told me.”

“Mother?”

“We spent the night together, outside of town in a motel. The boy on the admissions desk didn’t even recognise me. We made love and then talked for; I don’t know... We talked for hours.”

Molly stood finally, her body feeling small, shoulders low. “You loved him after all.”

Jennifer shook her head. “Maybe; I don’t know. Maybe.” She sat down and crossed her legs. “Pass me a cigarette darling.”

Molly did, handing her the long silver lighter too. Jennifer smiled briefly as she lit up. The flicker of light let her down, etching more clearly for a second the thin lines on her brow; around her eyes and mouth.

“We were going to get back together. By morning we knew for sure.”

“But you didn’t,” said Molly.

“No,” replied Jennifer, closing her eyes as she inhaled the smoke and leaned back into her chair.  Molly sat quietly opposite. Jennifer let the smoke drift from her lips slowly then forced the rest out impatiently fast. “We were so happy and it made me realise that I’d been lying to myself; that the vision in the hallway was false. In all the time since we’d divorced, that picture had grown so stable in my mind, so true; and now, suddenly, its validity was wavering. We made so many plans.

“He was involved in a location shoot at the time and I’d had enough of the movies so we arranged to meet up when he was back in town.”

“The film he was working on...?”

“Yes.” Jennifer nodded. “It was Bad Moon Rising.”

Molly shifted, uncomfortable. The story had sucked her in and made her forget herself but now she was conscious again. She crossed her arms tightly.

“It was raining when he finally came here to get me,” said Jennifer, “and I’d heard by then. I’d read about it in the evening paper and if that hadn’t been enough, at least three “friends” had materialised on the phone to tell me the “horrible news.”

“He was soaking; absolutely soaking wet. I think the taxi had dropped him at the foot of the drive. He’d run up, huffing from the exertion, and now here he was, standing in the hallway. The skylight above was completely black. It shuddered with the pressure of the storm.

“He smiled at me and I thought, you bastard. How can you come in here to my house after what you’ve done? How can you come in here and smile that smile – the same one you gave me after the Oscars – the same smile you gave as you put your arms around me and led me away?

“He could see it in my face: that I knew; about him and that piece of filth. He could see that I knew about him and—”

She pressed the heel of her right hand up against her eye, then she got to her feet. Her face was cracked and bitter; streaks of anger lanced back from her eyes and nose.

“I didn’t let him speak. I kicked him out into the rain! I didn’t care what he had to say! Not after what he did to me! I screamed at him and I hit his face and his chest! Then I opened the door and pushed him out!”

She dropped back into her chair and now she put her hands to her face and kept them there. Her sobs broke through and Molly reached forward to comfort her. “Mom?”

Sobbing; no other sound; then her mother raised her head, just a little. She lowered her hands. “I’ve hated him for so long,” she said. “I’ve hated him and I’ve made you hate him... and – Jesus Christ – I don’t know if the rumours were even true. I really don’t know what he did with that actress on location or whether they did anything. I don’t know what he would have said if I’d let him speak.

“I saw his face as I slammed the door – I saw it for a half second – and I’ve never seen anyone look like that. I’ve never known such loss. And there was no vision of the staircase to save me anymore. I’d seen the lie and I knew how weak and lost I could feel.”

 “It’s okay Mom. It’s okay.”

Jennifer shook her head then quite soberly, she looked up at her daughter. “You know what I think about?” she said. “You know what makes me cry at night? I know you’ve heard me.”

Molly shook her head.

“I cry because I know I should’ve taken him back whether he was guilty or not. I should’ve—” She started sobbing again. “Molly; I wish I still could.”

Understanding came to Molly’s thoughts, then it was swallowed in anger. She tried to hold it in but no understanding could stifle it.

“You made us hate him,” she said, her voice beginning very slow and quiet but building. “You brought Ruben and me up to hate his guts and all the time you wanted to be with him? You wanted to forgive his infidelity; to trust him again after everything he did to you?”

Jennifer raised her hands to the side of her face, her head shaking slowly; erratically.

“Every step of our lives you’ve pushed us further and further apart from him,” snapped Molly, getting to her feet, “And I hate you for it! I hate you as much as you hate yourself!”

“Then turn that anger back your way!” screamed Jennifer, standing up as well, “All you’ve ever wanted was the money! You did nothing to reach him all these years! Only so much can be indoctrination. You had the ability to choose as much as I did and you never made the leap! You never tried to make contact!”

“I did!”

“When?”

Molly stepped back. “I did!”

“When?” snarled Jennifer, pressing forward.

“On the night he died! All right?” cried Molly. “On the night he died!”