Haywire, Brooke Hayward [the best ebook reader for android TXT] 📗

of them would like to live with him, but this was a bit sudden. Also it couldn’t have come at a worse time. The Spirit of St. Louis was about to start shooting; there were locations all over the world. He would be traveling for the next six months: Boston, Nova Scotia, Newfoundland, Ireland, Paris. After that, he would be working on the editing of the film in California for a year. Nan was in Biarritz with Kitty. What was he going to do? Very inconvenient.

Discussions recommenced between Mother and Father. By now, Mother’s initial fury had abated. She regretted her hasty and ill-considered suggestion. The game had gone far enough. But Bridget and Bill were adamant. No, they couldn’t wait till Kenneth and I got home. The die was cast: they certainly didn’t want to linger in that explosive atmosphere for two weeks while the situation deteriorated day by day. It would be agony.

There were two disastrous confrontations, one between Mother and Bridget, the other between Mother and Bill. She implored them to change their minds and stay. They refused; it was too late. Whatever accusations were then made on all sides were so vitriolic and damaging that Mother could not bring herself to report them. Suffice it to say that the children made the final preparations for their departure in secrecy. That night, Bill cracked open the safe and stole their passports. The next morning they were on their way to Boston.

Mother’s letter went on to say that, circumstances being what they were, she expected me to join Bridget and Bill. Maybe it would be for the best, since events had proved her inadequacy as a parent. She hoped, however, that I would still go on to Vassar; she could arrange, if I liked, to send my trunks there. I shook my head; had she learned nothing from all this?

As Kenneth read me this, my anger did not subside. It grew. By the time he came to the last few words, in which Mother blamed herself for the whole mess, I was angry not only at Bridget and Bill, but at Mother and Father as well. It seemed to me they were all to blame; Mother for not having the sense to overlook Bridget’s sophomoric note, Bridget for not having the generosity to overlook Mother’s behavior, Bill for not having enough gumption to overlook them both, Father for playing devil’s advocate.

I went to my room and thought. Kenneth had suggested that Mother join us in Scotland. He’d gone off to send her a wire. I felt as if I were at a crossroads in my life. Certainly I realized that the rush of pure joy with which I’d entered that summer was over. Nor did I allow myself to believe it would return in the same measure again. I had to make a choice in which, no matter what, someone was going to be badly hurt. If I chose to cast my lot with Bridget and Bill—and it was tempting—it could be ruinous for Mother. I knew she took being a mother so seriously that if I failed her, she would see it as her failure, and that would be the last straw. Perhaps she would have a nervous breakdown, although I wasn’t too sure what constituted a nervous breakdown. Still, if I caused this, I could never live with myself again. But if I chose to stay with her, something equally terrible might happen to Bridget and Bill. They were young and susceptible, and, whatever they thought, unlikely to snap back as if nothing had happened. For all his money, Father would never be able to lavish on them the time and care that Mother had. And their guilt would only snowball with time. Which of them was most vulnerable? Bridget? Bill? Mother?

In the end, instinct told me Mother was. Bridget and Bill were younger; they were more resilient. Other children had left home before and survived. Besides, maybe I was overestimating their guilt and underestimating Father’s fatherliness. But Mother: I was afraid something truly calamitous might happen to her. Perhaps I could help stave it off for a while. Perhaps if I were around, her pride would keep her from shattering. She was a fighter, as long as she had someone to fight for.

I wrote her that I had no intention of leaving home and that I was insulted by her suggestion. Then (trying to sound as adult to her—and for her—as I could) I went on to say:

Kenneth and I have just been discussing Bridget and Bill. Not being there, I can only surmise that a vast amount of this business was concocted more out of a desire to play with fire than as a result of mature thought. They are both children still—and children can be the cruelest of all. Bridget, apparently, is snarling at life in general; this is not so very abnormal. And Bill is easily influenced; Bridget learned long ago to profit by his weakness. The sad part is that you are the nearest target. The family situation, chiefly the divorce, would create friction in any case. Father’s position makes yours precarious. These conflicts have been encountered before. And surmounted. Other unpleasant factors enter in. Ken says I’m one of them, that Brie feels I’m superior, etc. etc. But I think some of that attitude is affectation on her part. I wish I were there. Somehow I think none of this would have happened. You say it’s been brewing for a long time and had to come to a head. We’ve all been idiots at one time or another, so try to forgive their stupidity. I hope it’s as unintentional as I think it is. And let me begin to atone for mine. I know you must feel alone and low. Don’t suffer at home; we need you. Forget the expense and, for once, I beg you, don’t plan, don’t staple yourself to a thousand petty details; throw some junk in