That Thing With Feathers
by Sacha Moore
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Table of Contents parts: 1, 2, 3, 4 |
part 2
Tabitha had seen Laura at least a dozen times, maybe more. It was her go-to movie. She wished she could watch movies with her mother; she wasn’t even sure her mom had ever seen Laura all the way through. But on the rare occasions her mother had a night off and was not out on a date, Gloria did not have the patience to sit through a whole movie.
Usually the show would start and, about five minutes into it, Gloria’s cell phone would ring. If it wasn’t the man of the moment, it was one of her mother’s friends subsumed in some dramatic shenanigan. And then after that telephone call ended, someone else would call, with each conversation often lasting close to an hour.
At first, Tabitha would wait but, after a while, it became clear to her that her mother didn’t actually want to watch a film, despite her protestations to the contrary. Tabitha would finish watching it on her own.
Tabitha did not know what to make of Doug’s attempts to engage her. Given her mother’s seemingly insatiable desire for male approval and attention, Tabitha tended to arch in the opposite direction, blithely untethered and uninterested in the whole process. Even at school amidst her few friends and their cavalcade of crushes and sometimes short-lived relationships, Tabitha was largely content to live vicariously through Emily, who usually had the perfect boyfriend.
More importantly, Emily was always supported by her parents, who told her how beautiful and poised and intelligent she was. Even with all the praise, Emily never succumbed to conceit. She remained kind and compassionate, even though she could totally get away without having to be. She wasn’t the sort to close herself off with her coterie of enviable friends, even though she could have done so, and no one would have faulted her.
Every so often it would occur to Tabitha that she, herself, was creating Emily’s world and that it might be a touch, well, unrealistic. And furthermore that it may not even be a good idea for her to pretend that this level of perfection could exist. But mostly it assuaged her underlying loneliness and desolation to suppose a world like that might exist, for someone, somewhere. If only in her overactive imagination.
Tabitha had fallen asleep and was in her bedroom with the door closed when she woke briefly to her mother and Doug’s return. It sounded like he left shortly thereafter, and for that she was relieved. Maybe he would last a little longer than she would have initially suspected.
* * *
A few weeks later, Gloria announced that Doug had invited them to his home in Redding for dinner. Tabitha was perplexed. Rarely, if ever, was she included in any outings. She remembered going on a mystery cruise with a fellow her mother was dating that Tabitha sort of liked, actually, but who Gloria had decided was too old.
It did seem that the guys Tabitha liked slightly more were the ones her mother decidedly rejected sooner rather than later. Perhaps she and her mother did not have the same taste in men. Tabitha was curious as to why she was included in this outing as she would be hard-pressed to believe it was her mother’s idea.
“Doug is mature,” Gloria maintained. “He is letting me know that he interested up front in the whole package.” Tabitha was still unsure what to make of Doug, though it was sort of flattering that she, too, was invited to his house. She figured he was seasoned enough to realize early on that Gloria had a daughter and that this ought to be taken into account if it was going to work with Gloria at all. Though if he actually knew her mom, he would figure out that he did not have to work so hard to include Tabitha. It was not as if her opinion of her mom’s boyfriends — annoyingly — was an immediate deal-breaker.
Tabitha wondered vaguely about Doug’s having lived in New York City. Wow, that seemed so glamorous. She wondered if Redding seemed boring to Doug; it was boring to her, even if it was a fancier town than say, Bethel.
* * *
Doug’s house was beautiful. It had sort of a farmhouse aesthetic: rustic, unclaimed-wood style, with faint hints of pine and cedar-wood scents. She took a deep breath, realizing the air quality was actually better, even though they were just in the next town over. Tabitha stared in awe at the large, lovely, golden wood-stained table, the open kitchen. His house could totally be in a magazine!
What were they doing here? They didn’t belong. She felt suddenly, almost sick. This place was too nice, too refined. She and her mom didn’t belong in places like this, much as she might long for it. But wait. Wouldn’t this be a place Emily felt right at home in? There were duck decoys! She wondered where the monogrammed dog bed was but shortly thereafter realized Doug didn’t have any pets. His place was immaculate. Unlike theirs, it didn’t have that underlying grime that no amount of cleaning would dissipate. So this is what money can do.
Gloria had brought wine which, luckily, she didn’t pick out herself; she might have been tempted to go for a cheap bottle that had some picture of a cockatoo on it, and that would’ve been dreadful. Even Tabitha knew that. She decided to bring Doug an etching she had made of a meadow. She harboured some hazy artistic leanings but could make no proclamations, as many of her peers did about their “work.”
Doug was by the bar, mixing drinks. He offered one to her mother, who squealed with delight. Granted, Gloria was fun, but sometimes her mother’s effervescence made Tabitha cringe. Doug didn’t seem to mind. He seemed glad to see them. “What I can get for you? Would you like a glass of Sauvignon Blanc?”
Really?!?! Tabitha looked at her mom who, she suspected, totally wouldn’t care as long as Doug was okay with it. Her mom was definitely in her “I’m in Love” stage.
This experience so far was different in that Tabitha was beginning to like Doug and, strangely, it was almost as if Doug were as content that the three of them hang out together than just he and her mom. When Tabitha had brought this up, Gloria said it was because he longed for a sense of family. His marriage had ended relatively recently, and his sons were off at boarding school. But when she pressed her mother for more information about the dissolution of his marriage, she got vague. Tabitha wasn’t sure if that was because her mother didn’t want to tell her or whether she didn’t really know.
Gloria wasn’t always terribly discerning, especially in the beginning. She had a tendency to overlook quite a lot. Sometimes the discerning part fell to Tabitha. And if she was ever so slightly uneasy with Doug, it was that he seemed almost too good to be true. Tabitha was hard-pressed to believe Gloria had finally hit the jackpot. But maybe her distrust was unwarranted. Why shouldn’t her mother have a chance at a decent relationship?
Tabitha’s head was spinning, but she didn’t care. It was sort of strangely wonderful and a little scary at the same time. “I can’t believe you lived in New York City!” she blurted. “Wow, Redding must seem sooo boring.”
He smiled demurely. “No, not in the least. It is peaceful and bucolic here. I am relieved to be away from the noise and the traffic and the concrete. The air here is so fresh, jubilant, intoxicating.”
Tabitha frowned, thinking, What’s up with adults and their love affair with the effing air? Her ability to watch herself was muted. “The air here sucks.”
He smiled at her and she started to laugh, realizing, wait: while she thought this area was boring, Doug may not have the same experience. “That’s not fair. I get that it’s pretty here and that some people actually seem to like it.”
Doug looked at her intently and raised an eyebrow. She continued, “Well, as much as anyone can like anywhere.”
“Exactly,” Doug concurred. There was the beginning of a faint feeling, perhaps the first time she had ever felt it, that he had the potential to “get” her. Strange.
Doug noted Tabitha’s wine glass was empty and poured her more, without asking, as if it was a given. She was trying to decide if he was cool or irresponsible but then the thought suddenly protruded, “Where is my mom?”
Doug frowned, almost as if interrupted. “Last I knew she was using the ladies.” Gloria was a hoot, but she was not a drinker. She was the sort who acted drunk half the time even though she was sober. And when she did actually drink, heaven forbid, she was even more Out to Lunch.
This Doug fellow was definitely a drinker. Alcohol was everywhere. A ton of beer in the fridge. Special wine for this evening. A stocked bar, like they always had in the old film noir movies. They were always drinking in those films, like five drinks an hour, and they were still able to zip out at a moment’s notice and catch the bad guys.
Tabitha was starting to worry, ever so slightly, about her mother when suddenly she could hear Gloria singing loudly, even more off-key than usual. Well, she guessed her mom was okay. She also guessed she would have to drive home. “I probably shouldn’t have any more,” Tabitha said, ever the responsible adult.
Doug shook his head, announcing he would drive them home. And he certainly seemed more sober than either she or her mother, even though he seemed to have had way more to drink than either of them did.
“Are you sure?”
Doug took a swig from his glass of — Tabitha wasn’t sure what it was — some amber-colored hard liquor. Maybe whiskey? Scotch? Brandy for all she knew. Doug asked her, “Are you often the responsible one?”
Tabitha just looked at him. He was awfully perceptive for one of her mom’s boyfriends. But it was kind of nice, too, to have someone notice. Tabitha went through much of her life feeling that no one was really paying much attention to her, least of all her parents. That lack of attention was the norm; it was disconcerting to be faced with some stranger who was attempting to connect the dots. She wasn’t sure if she resented Doug’s intrusion or whether she liked it. Before she could answer, her mother shouted for Doug, and he reluctantly got up from the table and went to her.
Tabitha got up, too, and wandered into the living room. Doug had floor-to-ceiling windows. She stood there, a little wobbly, looking out into the darkness, thinking how strange it was to be in this nice house, wondering how hard Doug had to work to get a house like this and where he had amassed such good taste, wondering whether some people had the good fortune to be born with it. And how people decided what was in good taste and why. Even though she lacked confidence in other areas, she felt she could distinguish good taste from crap.
Tabitha’s drunken thoughts were suddenly broken by movement from outside and, before she knew it, she saw a figure, a young woman, staring right at her. Tabitha, taken aback, dropped her wine glass and screamed. The figure ran away, disappearing into the thick darkness.
Doug and Gloria came running. Tabitha told them what had just happened. She sat on the couch next to her mother, shaken. Was she sure she saw someone? They asked, noting she had drunk quite a few glasses of wine. But when Tabitha told them the figure looked like a young female, Tabitha swore, even in her drunken haze, that Doug’s face blanched. At that point, the festive mood was broken. The music stopped, and it was time to go home. Doug did not speak the entire ride back to Bethel.
Copyright © 2018 by Sacha Moore
