Patricia
Let me tell you about my daughter.
She could be a real pain. I mean, when she was two years old, she’d just walk up to me and start hitting me. She wouldn’t stop either. I’d tell her no. I’d tell her stop. She’d keep hitting me. It didn’t hurt, not really, but she’d pound at me with those little hands, and she’d look up at me with this smile of—what are you going to do about it? Finally, I’d smack her on the rear, and then she’d cry and stop. Then she’d fall into my arms and say Mommy sorry. And kiss me.
That was her. A lot of love, but she was difficult.
High maintenance is a nice way to put it.
Are you uncomfortable there? You keep squirming. Ropes too tight? I promise I won’t be too long.
My golden girl. All the teachers loved her in high school. She was so smart and well-behaved. At home, not so much. She had a lot of tantrums. It was probably my fault for spoiling her when she was young, but she took out all her anger and frustration on me.
Like I said, difficult.
Until she grew out of it.
This is the last time I’m going to tell you. STAY STILL! You’re making me angry. I told you not too much longer.
So where was I? Oh yes, I was telling you about high school.
She graduated at the top of her class. Got into several colleges around the country, but she decided to go to the University of Texas. To study journalism. She told me that it was an Ivy League school without the ivy.
Kind of funny, isn’t it?
I think the real reason was that her no-good bum of a boyfriend wanted to go to University of Texas for the parties. She claimed that she really liked the school and the town. It was intellectual, but it was fun. Not stiff, like some of the colleges back east. But I think it was the boyfriend.
We’re from Vermont, you know, and she wanted to get away from the cold. I think that might have been another reason. She was always cold, even in the summer, and she hated Vermont. That’s too strong. She didn’t really hate Vermont. She just didn’t want to live there. Besides the cold, it was dull. Nothing going on. We had a restaurant in town, but it wasn’t much, and the closest town with a choice of restaurants was half an hour away.
She liked animals. Horses. Cats. We had both. It just wasn’t enough.
We didn’t eat out much. Or go to the movies. We were homebodies. I knew she wasn’t a homebody; I knew she wanted some place with a lot of life: movies, music, restaurants, all that kind of stuff.
I hoped she’d go to Boston. Or at worst New York.
I didn’t expect her to go to Texas.
Still, I let her apply. It was a good school after all, with a respected program in journalism. And when she got in, I wasn’t happy about her going, but it was her decision. I had to accept that, even if I tried to argue her out of it.
I guess I should have just forbidden it. After all, I paid for part of the tuition, not all, because she got a scholarship, but enough that I should have been able to tell her no.
But I could never say no and stick to it. Not with Ashley. She was determined. And she wanted to go to University of Texas.
I still think she made the decision because of her high school boyfriend. Andrew. The bum. He was gone by her second year in college. Dropped out. Went to sell drugs or something. I never knew exactly what happened to him.
She graduated. I hoped she’d come back to Vermont, but I didn’t expect it. She liked Austin, and she got a job at a local television station.
Sometime in the first year out of college, she met David. She never told me how they met. I guess I never asked. So much I should have asked and never did.
Isn’t it funny how we think about what we should have done when it’s too late?
Do you ever think about what you should have done or could have done, Dr. Martin? I bet you don’t. Doctors don’t think that way. Doctors tend to think they’re gods.
They’re not gods.
But they do have life and death in their hands, don’t they, Dr. Martin?
A good-looking boy, David. And nice. Not exactly sure what he did, but it had something to do with technology. You might know, you met him. But it didn’t matter to me. He made a good living, and he loved Ashley.
He’d tell me about his job, but I’d just nod and pretend to listen.
Are YOU listening, Dr. Martin? Nod your head.
Very good. You need to listen. I bet you don’t listen to your patients all that much. You’re one of those I’m the doctor and I know best types, aren’t you?
So Ashley and David…
They dated for a while before he gave her the ring. I’m not sure how long. Maybe two years. Maybe three. She was so excited about the engagement, and we planned the wedding together.
I had a big garden. Usually I plant vegetables, but that summer, I planted flowers. Flowers everywhere.
I’m letting it go this year.
Am I boring you? You keep looking away. Or do you think someone is coming?
No one is coming. Your wife and son won’t be back for hours. The show doesn’t end until ten o’clock.
Funny how neither of them questioned getting free tickets to a sold-out concert that your son wrote about on Instagram. People should really be more careful about what they share on-line.
And about gifts.
But I guess you and your family are the type to accept a gift from people they don’t know and not question it. You take things for granted. Lovely home. Lovely life.
A wife. A son.
All the good things in life that you think you’re owed.
No reason to risk it, is there?
Are you trying to say something? No, I’m not taking the gag off. I don’t want to hear anything from you. I want YOU to listen to ME.
So, where was I? You made me lose my train of thought.
Oh yes, the wedding. You know, I said that my daughter was high maintenance, and she was. She was funny about food, you know. Very particular.
We must have visited two dozen bakeries before she settled on a cake. It was vanilla and chocolate with a raspberry filling. It was amazing.
Finding a caterer took forever too. We found someone we liked in Waterbury, or to be precise, someone Ashley liked. I would have been happy to grill hamburgers, but Ashley wanted her wedding to be perfect.
Have you ever heard of Waterbury? That’s where the Ben & Jerry’s factory is. Ashley loved Ben & Jerry’s ice cream.
Ashley and David. We had that printed on napkins—their names with a little heart around them. It was a lovely wedding. Outdoors at our place in Vermont. We rented a tent, because you never know about the weather, not in Vermont, not even in August, and we didn’t have that many people. Maybe thirty. But it was lovely.
I was so happy that she chose to have her wedding in Vermont, at our home. You know, I have twenty acres, two of them open, and a view of the mountains. She did have an appreciation of Vermont’s beauty, even if she didn’t want to live there.
She liked Texas.
But she wanted to make me happy, even if she liked Texas. She decided to have the wedding in Vermont at least in part for me.
That was Ashley. Loving. Kind. Smart. Beautiful.
Oh damn. Look at the time. I’ve been talking and talking. Your wife and son will be back before you know it, so I need to hurry up.
I don’t know that I have much else to tell you anyway.
Don’t shake your head at me. It won’t do any good. It’ll be fast. Painless. Mostly. Which is more than you deserve, but it is what it is. Unless you move, so that I miss—which means I hit something that won’t be fatal immediately.
And that would make me angry.
If you make me miss, I’ll shoot you in a lot of places. You know what I’ll aim for, don’t you? Yes, there. That will hurt. A lot. I’ll still finish you off, but I might let you suffer for a while first.
If you stay still, you don’t have to worry. I’m not likely to miss.
Who do you think brought home all the turkeys for Thanksgiving?
And I know you may be wondering—why me? Why not someone else? Don’t feel like you’re alone. You’re the first. You won’t be the last.