Wicked Forest

  "So. I think of the mind, the condition, the mental problems, and try to isolate them first," He smiled. "I don't always succeed at being so objective. but I have to try and to at least appear as though I have succeeded.

  "We're all actors in a sense. We're all wearing masks. Willow. Just choose your masks carefully," he told me.

  I looked down at the pictures again, then at Linden, asleep.

  What mask do I choose now, Daddy? I asked him in my imagination.

  You'll blow

  What if I don't know? Daddy? I heard nothing in my mind.

  Some answers I had to find for myself. I thought. I was a little girl again with my daddy holding the bike as I learned how to pedal.

  Suddenly, he let go.

  He stepped away.

  And I was on my own to ride. Or to fall,

  12

  A Routine Organization of Assets

  .

  I didn't say anything to Linden about his

  pictures all day. When he finally awoke, he had such a bad hangover he spent most of the day sleeping in his room with Mother pampering him anyway. I took Thatcher to task again when he rose and came down for breakfast about noon. He apologized profusely and assured me repeatedly that Linden really did have a good time.

  "My friends made him feel at ease immediately. Willow. They were all sensitive to him. There were so many guys there, it was impossible for me to keep an eye on him continually, and besides, I thought if we treat him like an invalid, he'll behave like an invalid. Now he is at least aware of what he should and shouldn't do at events like this."

  "I doubt that he'll attend another."

  "Oh, don't be so sure. You want him to break out of his doldrums, don't you? You know haw unhealthy it is for him to have no one but you and Grace all the time. He has to meet other people, do other things. Otherwise, he might as well be in some clinic." Thatcher insisted,

  I didn't dare mention the photographs, but they surely underscored what he was saying. Linden needed to develop other interests, new friends.

  "I'm upset more for my mother than for Linden," I told him, and he did look very remorseful then.

  "I know. I had no idea Grace would stay up and wait like some parent of a teenager, otherwise I would have taken him to a motel and sobered him up first-- not that I was that sober myself." he admitted with a grin. "This little drum in my head convinces me of that. I'll apologize to her.

  "You know what I want to do today?" he said, looking down at the pool. "Just vegetate. We've got to train for our honeymoon, you know." he told me, and kissed me.

  Even with his hangover, a light of excitement sprang into his dark-blue eyes, bright like golden candles seen through a window on Christmas Eve. Haw could I stay angry at him long?

  "Consider all that we are doing now as merely our training. The main event is vet to come. Willow," he said, reaching for my hand.

  "First you made our marriage sound like a movie, and now you're making it sound like a prizefight."

  He laughed.

  "That's why I tell everyone and everyone tells me you're a knockout." he said. and I laughed too.

  We spent the rest of the day as he wished, lying by the pool. sipping cool drinks, listening to music, swimming and enjoying each other's company. With my exams over, my first college term here completed, the wedding now looming before me, this was a welcome interlude of relaxation.

  Afterward, he went up to nap and I looked in on Mother, who was much calmer and philosophical about what had happened. Thatcher had gone in to speak with her and apologize once again.

  "Maybe Thatcher is right. I'm being

  overprotective," she said. "Linden is so much like a little boy to me. I forget how old he really is."

  "It's understandable," I told her.

  "Yes, but it's time to let go, actually past the time to let go." She looked so tired. I knew she had spent a restless night.

  "Go rest, Mother." I said. "I'll see to Linden's supper."

  "No, I--"

  "Go on. Mother," I insisted. "Get some rest. We've got a very, very busy few days ahead of us. My final fitting. Your preparations, the arrival of guests."

  "Amou?"

  "Yes. I'm so excited about it."

  "I can't wait to meet her. Your father spoke so highly of her and so often, I feel I've known her for years." she said.

  "I know."

  We hugged and she went off to rest. I went to the kitchen and had the maid prepare Linden's dinner. Then I took it up to his room myself He was sitting up in his bed, his eyes half-closed, still looking a little pale, with a small bruise on the bridge of his nose. When I appeared, his face took on some color and he tried to be more animated.

  "I guess I made a fool of myself last night." he said. "I've told Grace how sorry I am. and I am telling you."

  "It's all right. Linden. As long as you had a good time. But you knew with your medication, you shouldn't drink at all, much less drink too much. It could have been far worse for you."

  "I didn't take my medication."' he confessed, "I'm tired of feeling like a leper.'

  He looked at the food.

  "I'm not very hungry."

  "Eat what you can," I said.

  I glanced back at the dresser and saw that the pictures were gone. I couldn't imagine Mother having seen them and not mentioning- them to me.

  I watched him eat and saw that every bite he took looked painful.

  "How did you fall and smash your nose. Linden?"

  "I don't remember," he said. "I'm sorry if I made a fool of myself and embarrassed Thatcher."

  "That's not what I care about. I'm sure at a bachelor party, everyone makes a fool of himself'"

  He nodded.

  "Including Thatcher." he said, "I was surprised at some of the things he and the others did."

  "I don't care to hear about it. Linden. but I do want to talk to you about something else." I said, and pulled the desk chair up to his bed. He ate a little more, then put the tray aside.

  "What?"

  "This morning when I looked in on you, I saw the pile of photographs on the dresser."

  He nodded, showing no signs of apprehension. "I was surprised at how you invaded my privacy. Linden. Do you think that was right to do?" I asked. I felt like Daddy speaking to me when I was just a child and my adoptive mother had brought some minor infraction to his attention,

  "What do you mean? I told you I was going to take candid photographs of you. It's not like you didn't know," he defended himself.

  "Candid is one thing. Linden. invasion of someone's most private and personal moments is another. How did you do that?"

  "I'm an artist. I don't think of that as invasion of privacy. I wanted to get a complete image in my mind, and I've got it now. You'll see."

  "I hope you're not painting a portrait of me sitting on a toilet, Linden," I said sternly.

  "Of course not, but everything we do reveals another aspect of who we are This is how Arliss Thornbee went about it. I told you that."

  "I never heard of Arliss Thornbee. Linden, and even so, just because he did it doesn't make it the right thing to do, or even the artistic thing to do."

  "I'm an artist. I don't think of you as a naked woman when I paint you. I see the beauty in you, and that beauty appears in everything you do, even when you go to the bathroom."

  "I'm embarrassed by that. Linden. I hope you

  destroy those pictures." -"Sure- he said. "I don't need them anymore. "You don't invade someone's privacy without

  his or her permission. Linden. Art isn't a good enough

  excuse."

  "You will do it when you practice

  psychotherapy. won't you? You'll justify it by

  claiming it's part of what you need to know to do your

  job properly."

  "That's different."

  "No, it's not. We're all artists of one kind or

  another. That's what they call it the art of practicing

  medicine
." he said, smiling.

  I stared at him and then I stood up.

  "I'm not happy about it. Linden. I'm

  disappointed in you."

  "You won't be when you see the portrait," he

  insisted, refusing to see or admit to my points. "You'll

  forgive me," he added confidently.

  "There are things that, no matter how beautiful

  they may be, are not worth the price. Linden," I

  warned him.

  "Including love and marriage?" he shot back,

  his eyes so full of fury I couldn't help trembling. "Including everything," I said as firmly as I

  could. I stood up and returned the chair to the desk.

  "Drink your tea." I advised, and left him, wondering if

  the cure I hoped to see occur in him wasn't worse than

  the illness after all.

  .

  My confrontation with Linden set off all sorts

  of alarm bells, but the impending arrival of Amou, my

  aunt, and my cousin, not to mention the army of

  people Bunny brought to the house to prepare for the

  wedding ceremony and reception, occupied too much

  space on the stage of my attention for me to think

  about Linden. He withdrew to the sanctity of his

  studio, claiming he was down to the actual creation of

  a work now and had to give it all of his time and

  energy. He kept the studio door locked and some days

  didn't even come out to eat. Joan and Mary were

  instructed to bring his food to him, knock, and wait

  for him to open the door.

  I saw how much this troubled Mother. so I tried

  to diminish her concern by assuring her that it was a

  good thing for him to have something he loved

  occupying his time. Meanwhile. I couldn't help

  trembling every time I thought about what his

  painting would be like. If he dared do a picture of me in the nude. Thatcher would be more upset than I would be, and no matter how good were Linden's intentions, it would in the end cause more problems for us than we presently suffered. A negative reaction on our parts would surely send Linden into a deeper depression as well. Sometimes. when I moved through the house and passed his studio door. I found

  I was holding my breath.

  And then, it seemed to me, the famous second

  shoe dropped.

  .

  The women of the Club d' Amour had been so

  confident when they predicted Thatcher would insist

  on setting up a prenuptial agreement between us. I had

  nearly forgotten all about that. and when I did think of

  it once or twice. I smiled to myself because we were

  so close to our wedding date and he had not yet even

  broached the subject.

  Then, five days before our wedding, he paused

  at the door as he left for work and, as if just

  remembering something, asked me to stop by his

  office that afternoon.

  "Why?"

  "I have something we should discuss." he said.

  "Don't look so serious. It's routine. but I'd like to do it right and get it over with quickly. You'll see." He kissed me quickly before leaving. I stood there at the door thinking about it, and my anxiety mounted all day until it was finally time to go to his office. Maybe

  it was something altogether different. I told myself. He made such a big show of greeting me in

  front of his secretaries and assistants, I couldn't

  imagine him bringing up anything that would put

  tarnish on the brightness of our love. Then he closed

  the door behind us in his office and sat me down at his

  desk, where he had a small pile of papers set aside. "I would be one stupid lawyer if I hadn't done

  this," he began. "Sort of like the shoemaker without

  shoes."

  "What is it. Thatcher?"

  "Well, the legal term for it is a prenuptial

  agreement, but this is nothing like those stiff. formal

  contracts I prepare for some of my clients. This is just

  what we need to be sensible, and nothing else." "Sensible?"

  He sat back, pressing the tips of his fingers

  against each other.

  "I know I have lived the life of a bon vivant.

  hedonistic and at times reckless. I have earned my

  reputation here in Palm Beach. Some of it I can blame on my parents and my sister and their damn concern about the social register, but for most of it. I have only

  myself to blame.

  "However," he continued, sitting forward with

  an intent, dramatic look on his face. "it's no secret that

  after I met you. Willow. I was like someone who

  finally took a good look in the mirror and realized

  who he was and what he was and what he should be.

  I've said it before and I'll say it again, with you I want

  to be responsible, mature, and productive." He smiled,

  "You bring the best out in me, the man out in the

  boy."

  "What's that have to do with all this. Thatcher?"

  I asked, nodding at the papers.

  "Everything. We will have a family someday,

  maybe sooner than we think, and just as the family is

  the foundation of society, the marriage is the core of

  the family, the spine, and if it's not strong, protected,

  the family is weaker. By reducing or eliminating

  potential conflicts that could arise in the future, we

  diminish and eliminate stress, and you know what

  stress can do to people. You know better than anyone.

  Willow, or as well as anyone could."

  "I don't need all this preparation. I don't like

  feeling like one of your clients. Thatcher," I said

  sharply.

  He winced and nodded.

  "I'm sorry. It's just habit for me to talk this

  way."

  "What is it you want me to do?" I pursued.

  Disappointment, like leaks in a boat, could threaten to

  sink a love and relationship. I thought.

  "Getting married means more than just

  pledging to live together and consenting to have

  sexual relations. Getting married is entering into a

  serious legal relationship, Willow. It has diverse

  consequences on your ownership of your money and

  possessions, the way you raise your children, our

  relationship to each other."

  "Don't you think I know all that?"

  "Of course, but when people talk and work out

  issues before they get married, they have a greater

  ability, better tools to use to remain happy.

  "I tell my clients to consider all this the way

  they consider life insurance. You don't buy it

  intending to die, do you? You buy it to provide for

  your loved ones in the event of death. It's just good

  planning. You want that, too, don't you. Willow?" "Yes," I admitted. but I couldn't keep my voice

  from sounding small nor my heart from tripping beats. "These papers just organize our assets and set

  up a method by which they are distributed should we

  find our marriage to be a mistake. which I don't have

  any expectation of happening. Not to be boring, these

  papers elaborate on what our individual debts at the

  moment are, how we'll handle gifts given to each or

  both of us, elaborating on what are our nonmarital

  assets and how we want to treat them, et cetera. "You understand what I mean by all this, don't

  you? You realize it doesn't diminish my love for you


  even an iota. right?"

  Rather than nod. I closed and opened my eyes. "But. as I said, what would it look like if I

  never had this done for us? What a laughingstock I

  would be, and how would that be viewed by my

  clients and prospective clients, huh? You don't want

  to go to a doctor who neglects his own health, do

  you?"

  "I don't need any more rationale. Thatcher. I'll

  read the papers," I said bluntly, and picked them up. "I've upset you," he said, sitting back. "I would

  rather have looked the fool,"

  "No. You're right. I'll read them. In fact." I said.

  smiling, "I'll have them all faxed to my attorney. Mr.

  Bassinger, who is coming to our wedding, and get his comments, too. How's that for good, sensible

  preparation?"

  He stared at me.

  "I just mean to do the right things for us.

  'Willow, to protect you as well as myself and our

  family."

  "And I'm grateful for that. You won't charge us

  for it, will you. Thatcher?"

  He looked startled, then laughed when I smiled, "Now I know more about why I love you so."

  he said. "You are the most mature and sensible young

  woman I have met yet. What a bonus to add to your

  beauty."

  "Compliments will get you everywhere," I said.

  He smiled and then kissed me.

  "You can use my fax machine, if you like, and

  get it to Mr. Bassinger right away."

  "Good. Let's do that."

  He called in his secretary and had her carry out

  the arrangements.

  "Well, then." he said. "that's over with. We

  won't mention it again."

  "Unless my attorney has something to suggest,"

  I said.

  "Of course."

  He told me he had a very important dinner

  meeting to attend and asked if I wanted to join him. "No. I think I'd better stay home tonight. I'm

  picking up Amou at the airport tomorrow, and my

  mother is nervous about everything."

  "Sure, Okay. I'll see you later, then." he said.

  and I left.

  No matter what his reasoning and the

  reasonableness of his voice, and no matter how many

  times I told myself he was only doing what he thought

  was right for us. I couldn't prevent something hard

  and heavy from growing in my chest, making it ache.