Idlewild Page 3
Damn you, Ernest.
Carolyn shook her head to clear it and tried to focus on why she was there—for her youngest child, Donna. Her third and last child. It had cost them three hundred thousand dollars to get Donna the treatment she needed. This time. This was her fourth stint in rehab, and Carolyn could only pray it was the last. It was an expense neither Carolyn nor Ernest could argue wasn’t necessary. Private drug rehabilitation was expensive, but in Carolyn’s assessment, there was no amount of money that could keep her from trying to save her daughter, or maybe save face with her friends was more like it.
There was no way Carolyn could stand for any of her socialite friends or any of Ernest’s business partners finding out that Donna was addicted to drugs and had been living like a virtual vagabond for the past year. The thought of anyone finding out made a chill shoot down Carolyn’s spine. She hunched her shoulders in an attempt to relax, but the dark thought still hovered in her mind. If someone did discover the truth about Donna, it would be like finding out Desiree was pregnant out of wedlock all over again. Or finding out that Junior had begun to dabble in an underworld he had no business dealing in.
Carolyn remembered clearly how devastated she was when she found out their youngest was addicted to heroin. It was Rebecca who’d nervously told Carolyn about Donna’s addiction. Carolyn also thought back to how Ernest had screamed at her and had told her it was all her fault that another one of his children was an embarrassment to the Johnson name. He had told Carolyn that it was her “trashy” DNA and family lineage that had caused Donna to be such a disappointment. It hadn’t been the first time Ernest had used Carolyn’s upbringing against her during an argument. He’d also blamed her for Desiree’s pregnancy and Junior’s arrests. It was all Carolyn’s fault if you asked Ernest.
The night Donna was born, Ernest had missed the entire birth—from Carolyn’s labor to the minute Donna took her first breath. Carolyn had spent sixteen hours in labor at the UChicago Hospital, and Ernest had never shown up, not even for a minute of it. Both of Ernest’s parents had come rushing into Carolyn’s private birthing room in a huff after they’d gotten the news that the newest member of the family was about to arrive. They’d left Junior and Desiree with Rebecca at the Hyde Park mansion. Neither of Ernest’s parents could explain why their son wasn’t around and why Carolyn hadn’t been able to reach him when she called. Ernest’s parents had long since stopped making excuses for Ernest, because they knew Carolyn wasn’t buying it anymore.
Carolyn felt that they were present at the birth only because they secretly hoped they could make sure she didn’t get too unhappy and file for divorce from their son. They’d rather die than see Carolyn get any part of their fortune for herself. Carolyn had known for months about Ernest and his philandering. She knew how his parents really felt about her and also how against divorce they were. Carolyn hadn’t felt that alone in a room full of people since her days working the restaurant scene in Idlewild. Nurses, Ernest’s parents, and doctors circled her, providing for her every need. But no one could soothe the ache of loneliness she felt from Ernest’s absence.
After a horrendous labor, Carolyn gave birth to a perfect little girl, her last baby, by cesarean section. She made sure she got her tummy tucked at the same time. She wouldn’t have wanted to disappoint Ernest by not keeping herself up—even though she knew that Ernest was stepping out with other women behind her back.
The baby girl was a perfect chubby-faced, screaming bundle of joy. She had Ernest’s hazel eyes and prominent chin and Carolyn’s long limbs and button nose.
“Let’s call her Donna, after her great-grandmother,” Ernest’s mother said after she had laid eyes on her granddaughter. “Donna Johnson.”
Ernest’s father agreed, and who was Carolyn to argue with such a powerful patriarch? Whatever the Johnsons wanted, the Johnsons got. Carolyn had learned that the hard way. Still, despite the fact that she physically and mentally exhausted, Carolyn was determined to have a say when it came to her daughter’s name. She suggested that they call the baby Donna Bethann Johnson. Carolyn thought it was a fair compromise, given the fact that she had always wanted to name one of her daughters Bethann after her own mother. She had never told the Johnsons of her desires prior to Donna’s birth. Instead, she’d let them have full control over naming her other two children.
When Ernest finally showed up at the hospital to see his new baby, he smelled of a woman’s perfume and looked like he’d been partying for days. He leaned in to give Carolyn an obligatory kiss, and she turned her face away. It was all she could do to keep from making a scene in front of Ernest’s parents and to hide the hot tears that were threatening to spring from her eyes.
Carolyn tried to hold on to the anger and bitterness she felt when Ernest finally came to her bedside, but after witnessing Ernest hold his youngest daughter with such care and sensitivity, and after watching him seemingly fall in love with yet another baby, Carolyn was once again overwhelmed by that old gushy, head-over-heels feeling for Ernest. It was like when they were in Idlewild, falling in love all over again. Carolyn told herself that night in the hospital that for her children and for the sake of her family, she would do anything it took to make them all happy. It was a promise she would endure suffering to keep.
Things were great for a while after Donna’s birth. Carolyn felt like she’d finally gotten her husband back. In the beginning, Ernest was a doting father and a caring husband. He showered Carolyn with gift after expensive gift. He told her the gifts were to thank her for giving him his greatest gifts of all—his children. He spent hours holding baby Donna, talking and singing to her. He doted on Junior and Desiree too. So much so that Carolyn grew a little jealous of how much attention Ernest showered on the kids, especially the baby. But once again, Carolyn put her feelings aside and tried to make the best of the situation.
Carolyn saw herself as a mother and a wife. There was no more individual Carolyn. The things she wanted, needed, and liked came secondary in her life. Carolyn spent every waking minute pleasing her children and her husband. She lost herself in meeting the needs of Ernest, Junior, Desiree, and Donna. With the help of the hired hands, of course. At some point, Carolyn grew to resent her life. Each day she would struggle to put on a happy face.
Carolyn felt a sense of security knowing that her children would never want for anything, which was the opposite of her own experience as a child. Just like Junior and Desiree, Donna was a trust-fund baby from birth. She was worth more than some celebrities five times her age before she even turned a year old. Carolyn and Ernest gave her anything she asked for . . . materially anyway. And Papa Johnson, which was what Ernest’s father asked to be called, made sure his granddaughter would never have to lift a finger in her life. Just like her siblings, Donna went to private school. She was given dance lessons from the age of two. She had private tennis lessons as soon as she turned five.
Donna was given an allowance of one thousand dollars per week from the time she was thirteen years old. And every year she had a huge, extravagant birthday party, with a guest list of A-list celebrity children. For her Sweet Sixteen, Carolyn flew in dresses from Paris, Milan, and London and threw a party on a yacht that cost more than some celebrity weddings. And once a year Carolyn and Ernest would take Donna and her siblings on vacation to parts of the world their youngest couldn’t even pronounce. But as she got older, Donna realized that nothing her parents gave her could replace spending time with them every day or at least having an occasional sit-down dinner with them, like she’d seen families on TV do. Rebecca was the only person who showed up for school meetings, plays, and trips.
Ernest and Caro
lyn hardly knew anything concrete about their youngest daughter’s wants and needs as she got older. Carolyn was too busy keeping tabs on Ernest to notice. After a while, nothing Ernest and Carolyn gave Donna seemed like it was enough. They poured money into any activity she picked up—gymnastics, soccer, synchronized swimming, lacrosse, equestrian sports, golf, polo, and tennis. Donna would grow bored and quit. She had grown spoiled and angry.
By the time she was seventeen, Donna was deep into Chicago’s party and drug scene. She fashioned herself as one of the brat-pack socialites from the Gold Coast, the most affluent part of Chicago. After all, she’d grown up with and become best friends with former child stars, the daughters of hotel magnates, and the children of rock stars. Late-night party scenes became her daily life. During those years, unflattering paparazzi pictures of Donna showed up at least two dozen times in People and Us magazines. When confronted, Donna would scream and throw tantrums. Carolyn had admittedly dropped the ball when it came to paying her youngest daughter the attention she was craving. Carolyn blamed Ernest for it all, and he blamed her in return.
“Mother,” a familiar voice called from behind Carolyn.
Carolyn snapped out of her reverie and popped up out of her seat. She cleared away the thoughts of her past life, which had been crowding her mind lately. Carolyn took in an eyeful of her youngest child, who was clearly not a child anymore. She tilted her head and clasped her hand over her mouth. Tears welled up in her eyes immediately when she went to grab for her daughter.
“Oh, sweetheart, you look amazing. This time away has done wonders. I am so proud of you,” Carolyn cried, pulling her daughter into a tight embrace. Carolyn felt a warm feeling of relief wash over her. She stepped back and gazed at her daughter for a second. Donna finally looked like someone Carolyn and Ernest could be proud of.
Carolyn hugged and squeezed Donna again. “Thank God,” she whispered. She was really thanking God for bringing her daughter back from the brink of death. What would her friends have thought if Donna had succumbed to drug addiction? Carolyn would’ve suffered the worst embarrassment of her life. Carolyn shook off those worst-case scenarios and tried to relish the moment.
It was a miracle that Donna was even alive. The night Carolyn and Ernest had signed Donna involuntarily into the rehabilitation center, Donna had looked like death warmed over. Her skin had been ghostly pale, and dark rings had rimmed the bottom of her eyes. Donna’s dark hair was matted, and her body was gaunt, almost skeletal. She smelled like she hadn’t had a bath in weeks, and her clothes, although expensive, were filthy. Donna had been out on a binge for three weeks, and Carolyn and Ernest had been worried sick and had had people out scouring the entire city for her. It had been the first time they’d come together for anything in years, or at least when people weren’t around to watch them. Ernest had even hugged Carolyn a few of the nights they’d both sat up worrying about their daughter.
Donna kicked and screamed when she first arrived at the center. She cursed at her parents and told her mother she hated her. She screamed and begged Ernest not to let Carolyn sign her into the center. Donna blamed Carolyn for everything. Carolyn was an emotional wreck that night. She also blamed herself for it all, although she knew it wasn’t entirely her fault. Ernest remained cool as a cucumber, as usual. Little did Carolyn know at the time that her husband had already begun his battle with cancer.
“Daddy loves you. Daddy loves you,” Ernest repeated to his youngest daughter over and over again that night. He never once defended Carolyn or told his daughter that she needed help. It was something Carolyn filed in her mental Rolodex. The hurt she felt was almost tangible.
All of that was in the past, Carolyn told herself now. Just like all the other hurts she’d suffered at the hands of her children and her husband, Carolyn had swallowed this hurt like it was a hard marble. Seeing Donna now—her cheeks rosy, her body filled out in all the right places, her hair shiny—made Carolyn warm inside. Donna had taken the best of Carolyn’s and Ernest’s features. She stood almost six feet tall and was built like a runway model. She had long, slender legs, a small waist, and small breasts. Donna had exquisite thick jet-black hair and Ernest’s hazel eyes—the only one of their children to inherit them. She had also inherited Carolyn’s high cheekbones and perfect nose, and with Ernest’s prominent chin, her face was striking. From the time she was a small child, Donna had turned heads everywhere she went. She was more of a showstopper than both of her parents, to say the least.
Carolyn finally relinquished her grasp on Donna and gave her a good once-over. Carolyn smiled wide; she thought her daughter looked perfect. Donna was dressed conservatively in a maroon Donna Karan sheath dress that Rebecca had picked out, a pair of kitten-heeled Jimmy Choos, and a simple cardigan to top off her look. Donna finally looked like a wealthy young woman should. Carolyn was satisfied, but she still couldn’t say she was so proud to say that Donna was her daughter. It had always been a struggle to be a mother to Donna. Carolyn squeezed Donna and grabbed for Donna’s hand, hoping to get a return show of affection. But Donna impolitely let her arms hang limply at her sides. Carolyn knew right away that her daughter was in rare form . . . as usual. It was the norm for Donna to treat Carolyn like she had no regard for her at all. Still, Carolyn reached out again and took her daughter’s hand.
“How’s Daddy? Is he really too sick to come?” Donna asked petulantly.
Carolyn released her daughter’s hand quickly. She looked at Donna seriously. She wanted to scream in Donna’s face and say, “I am here for you! Isn’t that enough! Isn’t anything I do ever enough!” But Carolyn kept her thoughts to herself, and she kept smiling and kept doing what she did best—pretending.
“Oh, Donna, darling, this is your day. Don’t worry about him. You look so good, so healthy now,” Carolyn replied sympathetically. She cracked a phony smile and hugged her daughter again, hoping they could move off the subject of Ernest. “You are simply stunning. I can’t say that enough,” she added, flashing her plastic smile again. Nothing seemed to faze Donna.
“I guess you would say I look good now since you haven’t seen me in nine months. All you have to compare it to is the way I looked when you forced me into this hellhole,” Donna replied sharply as she squirmed out of her mother’s stifling embrace.
Carolyn felt like someone had slapped her across the face. She inhaled. It was taking all she had to keep it together now. Carolyn ignored the comment. She already felt awful enough about not visiting, but she’d figured that Donna needed time away without the influence of her parents. She also thought her spoiled child would understand about Ernest being sick.
Carolyn had also been afraid that if she visited, Donna would ask her questions about her father’s condition, which had steadily deteriorated over the months. Carolyn had always tried to shelter her children from anything negative about their father: sickness, his cheating, his bad business deals . . . everything. But Carolyn’s sugarcoating of Ernest’s indiscretions had only made her kids see her as the bad guy and Ernest as the hero in their lives. The past nine months had been no different. Ernest had been ailing, and Carolyn had covered it up. Pretending, faking like her life was still picture perfect, had become like a full-time job for Carolyn. But she had reached a point where she could hide Ernest’s illness any longer.
“So, are you ready to go home? You must be excited to get back to life. There are so many good things waiting for you. Whatever you want, you can have,” Carolyn singsonged, changing the subject while fidgeting with her newly purchased monstrous twelve-carat canary diamond ring. It was one of many things she’d purchased recently. Another thing she did when she was unhappy was making big purchases.
“Yeah, going home. I can hardly wait to get back to that life. I’ll see you after the ceremony,” Donna droned gruffly before stomping away from her mother.
Carolyn looked around to see if anyone had noticed the strained interaction between them. She smiled weakly at a couple that had been watching. C
arolyn’s cheeks flamed when she noticed them. She wondered how much of the conversation they had overheard.
“Our children. We have to love them,” Carolyn chortled before averting her eyes away from the gawking pair. She turned her face away and dabbed at the tears threatening to drop from her eyes. Even her baby girl hated her. Carolyn couldn’t win for trying. Nothing ever seemed good enough.
* * *
Carolyn and Donna’s ride from the rehabilitation center was tense and silent. Donna brooded the entire ride, and Carolyn tried to please her, as usual. It was as if a joyous occasion had not just happened. The pomp and circumstance of Donna’s rehab graduation had faded quicker than an eclipse of the sun. In an effort to break the silence, Carolyn tried to make small talk about the weather, Donna’s clothes, her new cell phone. When that didn’t work, Carolyn told Donna how proud she was of her accomplishments—getting clean and sober in nine months, winning an award for her artwork in rehab, and finally getting her GED. Carolyn told Donna that she imagined it hadn’t been easy.
Donna ignored her mother, for the most part, though she dropped a vicious insult in response here and there. It wasn’t lost on either of them how many times Carolyn’s cell phone buzzed and interrupted their tense exchange. After the third time, Donna even raised an eyebrow at her mother and said, “Why don’t you stop pretending to be interested in speaking to me and just answer your phone? I already heard that your favorite was coming home. I’m sure you can’t wait. I’m sure you have lots of things planned for the two of you.”
Carolyn’s cheeks flamed at her daughter’s comment. “No one of you is more important than the others. I have three children, not just one,” Carolyn replied. It didn’t make a difference. She was clearly not going to convince Donna. “Why don’t you tell me something new about you?” she added.
Donna rolled her eyes and kept her pursed lips shut tight.
“Okay, then, do you want me to tell you what’s been going on with me?” Carolyn asked.