It was dismal. Not the weather this time, but the atmosphere—the day I’d set up a meeting with Jay at Nick’s so he could meet my daughter, maybe even come to love her.
I’d brought a few playthings with me for Pamela to enjoy, but she was in a fussy mood that afternoon. We were meeting during her usual nap time because of when I could get away without Tom knowing what I was doing.
I’d told Tom that Pamela’s “Uncle Nick” had proposed a tea party for her, and gushed over how thoughtful it was of my cousin to treat our sweet little princess, and I hope he didn’t mind but I’d told Nick I didn’t think Tom would be interested in coming. I held my breath until Tom nodded over his morning paper and then went out for the rest of the day.
I dressed Pammy in one of her sweetest dresses, a white smock with embroidered blue rocking horses around the hem and a “Peter Pan” collar and blue bow tie with long ribbons ending in blue beads. I combed her feathery blond hair and secured it with a silver butterfly barrette, though I knew it was unlikely to stay in place for long. She had my fine, wispy hair, which had been an annoyance for my own nanny when I was young.
She was as pretty as could be, and I was proud of her, and when Jay first set eyes on her as we walked up to Nick’s cottage, I was pleased to see him grinning in genuine appreciation. At least the afternoon got off to a good start.
Even under the best of circumstances, though, having a social event with children underfoot presents a challenge. Children were usually sent away to play after a short appearance among guests. You could then be admired for producing such beautiful offspring without being bothered by the messiness and noise of having them nearby.
Yet here we were, trapped for at least an hour with nowhere for Pamela to go and conversation difficult, as she often interrupted, or I had to see to her.
Jay sat awkwardly on the settee and tried to talk with her.
“You’re a pretty little thing,” he said, smiling, his hands on his knees. “You look just like your mother.”
Pamela responded with silence as she positioned a brightly colored block on top of another, then pouted when they both fell, and wailed when she hit her head on the table’s edge as she tried to retrieve the bunch.
After picking her up to soothe her, I placed her in my lap.
“There, there, sweetie. It’s nothing. We all fall sometimes.” I kissed her head and looked over at Jay. “Actually, she has Tom’s eyes,” I said.
At that observation, Jay recoiled. It was just the slightest movement, a little crinkling about his eyes and pulling back, but I saw it.
Nick, who was our host, came into the room with a tray of treats—some cookies and small cakes—and a pot of tea. He did not put into use the beautiful rose and gold china of my first meeting here with Jay, but a sturdier white porcelain with no adornment.
“Would you like some, honey?” I asked, and she nodded, still sniffling over her recent hurt.
If I had thought this part of the day would go more smoothly, I was quickly disappointed. Despite my best efforts, Pammy spilled her tea after first almost burning herself on it because it was too hot. This elicited a comment from Jay that she had ruined her pretty dress. At that, she pouted and cried. Then she insisted on having more cakes than I told her she could have, and in the interest of peace, I gave in to her demand.
“You should listen to your mother,” Jay announced, as she reached for an iced sweet. “You’ll get a stomach ache if you don’t.”
She popped the cake in her mouth and looked at him as if he were the most foolish man on earth.
After that, she decided to explore Nick’s home and toddled off down the hallway. A crash soon followed, and when I ran to fetch her, I saw she had pulled at a towel on the kitchen table, resulting in a pile of cutlery landing on the floor, which she seemed to think were toys meant just for her. Upon returning to the parlor, I scooped her up with some spoons that occupied her for a little while.
By the time the hour was over, I could hardly wait to leave. Jay eventually gave up trying to interact with Pamela and instead ended up treating the appointment as if I were there alone, or rather, just with Nick.
But as he started conversations about stocks, news, music, or his car, Pamela would somehow always manage to grab my attention, and I would have to tend to her, keep her from going out the door, and follow her as she wanted to explore Nick’s house again, asking questions.
I was frazzled and eager to leave when I finally picked her up and headed for the door, and I could tell that Jay had enjoyed our get-together as little as I had.
As we said farewell, he started to lean toward me to give me a kiss, but I pulled back and offered my hand, nodding toward Pamela, who would surely report a kiss to Daddy at some point in her garbled-toddler language. He understood but grimaced, and then said he hoped to see me soon.
The only thing that saved the event from being a complete failure was Pamela’s farewell. She gave Jay a big grin and waved at him, without prompting. It gave me some hope that we could all enjoy being together sometime soon, after they got to know each other better.
The next afternoon, I did see Jay alone, and we didn’t say a word about his session with Pamela. I didn’t bring it up, and he acted as if it hadn’t even happened. Once again, I lacked courage.
But by avoiding the subject, our hours together were unblemished by discord. I was an expert at pushing away conflict, even if part of me worried it would resurface at some time, that in fact it needed to resurface.
I left that day’s rendezvous happy and hopeful, my skin still tingling from his touch, determined to try again to bring him round to loving Pamela as much as he loved me.
You see, as much as Tom liked Pammy to be out of his way, there was no doubt how much he loved her. His eyes lit up whenever he saw her. He seemed proud to have brought into the world such a sweet, beautiful creature.
I had to know Jay would one day feel the same about Pammy, and I approached it like an ordinary task.
Other tasks intruded, however, in the coming days. Specifically, how to stay out of the madhouse.