A Life Apart
Chapter 2: Jill Paxton (pg. 19)
If he wanted sex,
Jill thought, he would have tried to wake me. She lay still, resisting an urge
to inhale more deeply, while pondering the meaning of John’s actions. Maybe he felt
guilty. Certainly she had done everything she could to make him feel so. Why do
I do that? She wondered. It wasn’t his fault that he was in a meeting when she
called about Mirabelle’s accident.
She still could not
bring herself to call it what it apparently was. How could she do such a thing?
Maybe it was their constant bickering. Jill knew that she had no control over
her daughter’s life. It was not that she totally disapproved of Mirabelle’s
actions. It was just the extremes her daughter was willing to go to
differentiate herself from her mother’s wishes. If only John would support
her—take her side instead of his daughter’s, Jill would not have to be the lone
parent involved. But he was always at work. Even when he was home, he would
barricade himself in his study. She could not even remember the last time they
had intercourse.
Tears began to
trickle down her cheeks. Jill was racked with emotions. She had a daughter in a
Psyche Ward and a husband who was no solace to her. If she could scream, she
would. Instead, she cried in silence, waiting for her husband to fall asleep.
Then she could slip from under his arm and seek refuge in her kitchen. There at
least she might be able to distract herself from the emotional blizzard that
wanted to blast her apart.
It was mid morning before her husband joined her in the kitchen. A
fresh baked apple strudel sat on the round breakfast nook table. Paxton slid
into the nook and stared at the strudel.
“You’ve been busy
this morning.”
“Not really,” replied
Jill. “I baked that at
“Oh, I didn’t hear
you get out of bed.”
“You went into a deep
sleep almost as soon as you hit the sack.” There was disapproval in Jill’s
tone. Would he realize, she wondered, that she had been awake when he came to
bed?
Looking out the
surrounding windows of their cylindrical nook, Paxton watched Billy throwing a
football through the tire he had hung in the backyard. “I see our varsity
quarterback is practicing for the big game next week. You know, the coach told
him there will be college scouts at the game. This might be his chance for an
athletic scholarship.”
Jill was annoyed. “I
just brewed a fresh pot. You want a cup?” She felt like pouring the hot coffee
in his lap. “I can scramble some eggs, if you’d like.”
“No, no. Coffee and
strudel are just fine. I have a golf game with a client at eleven. Billy said
he would caddy. So we’ll be out of your hair for most of the day.”
“Great! Marge and I
planned to check out the Christmas Eve sales at the mall this afternoon.” Jill
thought, he doesn’t want to be with me even on the
weekends. “I don’t think I’ll be back in time to make dinner. Why don’t you
take us out tonight? Louise told me about this Turkish restaurant in
“I thought you were
going to see Mirabelle today. You know, I’m following your plan: I saw her
yesterday; you see her today; I go to the hospital on Sunday; you, on Monday;
and both of us can go on Tuesday.”
Jill still held the
pot of coffee in her hand. It was fortunate for her husband that she had
already filled his cup. “Does everything have to be a contractual arrangement
with you?” She whirled around and slammed the coffee pot into its slot in the
coffeemaker. Hot coffee slurped over the top of the pot onto her hand. Without
acknowledging the pain, Jill strode to the sink and ran tap water over her
hand. She turned suddenly to confront her husband across the counter top that
separated them. “I’ve tried to get closer to her, but she’s so ‘out there’. I
just seem to aggravate her. That’s why I wanted you to talk to her! I’ve been
with her nearly every day since her Christmas break began. She just doesn’t
listen to me. God, what does she hope to gain with a philosophy degree? Doesn’t
Stanford turn out doctors and lawyers? And how does she expect to find a decent
husband if she never dates? Look at her! For Christ sakes, she never wears
makeup and dresses like a boy most of the time. I grant it that she’s smart,
but the things she says.” Jill shrugged her shoulders at the hopelessness of her
situation. “Just the other day she told me that American women would be better
off if they adopted the Muslim dress code. I think she said it just to irritate
me!” Jill looked out the kitchen window at her son. “At least Billy is easy to
figure out. He’s all about football, girls and that whole high school scene.”
Paxton bristled at
Jill’s words. “I don’t understand you. You have this beautiful house and two
remarkable children. And yet . . . Why do you put them down? Mirabelle won a
four year scholarship to one of the most prestigious institutions in the
country. Our son is not only a varsity quarterback, but president of his senior
class and a member of the student council. Apart from this incident with
Mirabelle—which nobody knows about—we are a family that anybody would envy.
After I close this deal and take Solvetur public, we
can buy a vacation home in Tahoe like you’ve always wanted. I’ll even buy you
that Jaguar sports car you like so much.”
Jill glared at her
husband. “Do you love me, John?” Pausing, she continued with a whimper,
“Because if you did. . .” She suddenly fell silent. She couldn’t withstand the
plaintiff whine of her own voice.
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