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Renata Blanding said, “The beginning. Okay. I’m going to spare nothing. Including myself. I got pregnant with her when I was a seventeen-year-old idiot living in Sacramento and doing everything I could to torment my adoptive parents. Not because they were adoptive, I’m sure I would’ve done the same if they were bio, that’s the way I was back then. Stupid and insolent and stubborn. I mean it’s not like birth control wasn’t available, right? I know exactly when I got pregnant. At a party. What I don’t know is fromwhoI got pregnant.”
She forced herself higher.
“Get the picture?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“You’re saying that but you don’t. It’s one of those…you had to be there. Dope, alcohol. There was more than one of them and, frankly, I don’t want to know. But don’t go thinking I’m one of those people telling everyone they got victimized. Yes, I was drunk. No, I wasn’t forced. It was a party.”
She put the glass down hard.
“Stupid and stubborn,” she said. “That’s the long and short of me,back then. You’re probably wondering, why is she so cool with telling us all this. The reason is because confronting reality on a regular basis is emotionally nourishing, that’s what my ther— whatever, back on track. Carrie…”
A moment of hesitation, as if her daughter’s essence remained coded.
She said, “Where was I…I got pregnant, my adoptive parents freaked out and threatened to force an abortion on me and no one was going to control my body so I ran away and hitched down to L.A. with a few truckers, then a guy who took me from Frazier Park near the Grapevine all the way to Hollywood. And yes he was one of those. Dirty old man, one thing on his mind. Not that he forced me, but he surewantedme.”
She crossed her legs, picked up the glass, and sipped. “When he found out I was pregnant he lost interest andkickedme out, I was homeless so I ended up at St. Vivian’s downtown. It’s a shelter, Catholic even though I’m not. The deal is they take you in if you pledge not to terminate. Which was what I already wanted, Carrie was wanted. Okay?”
We nodded.
“Just as long as you understand that,” said Renata Blanding. “So I signed the pledge and went to Mass and pretended to care and the baby. Twenty-hour labor, right out of a torture chamber, afterward I was stitched up like a football. She was a cute baby. Cried a lot but good looking. I had no idea what I was doing. The shelter let girls stay there for the first year if they kept going to Mass, so I did. I got an evening job waiting tables at a Mexican place, met a guy, he became my first husband.Notone of those. Nice guy, Mexican, older, worked for the gas company, had his own house in Carson. We moved there, eight years later we got divorced. Friendly split. Frank was nice to Carrie but casual, know what I mean?”
I said, “No closeness.”
Emphatic nod. “He never disciplined her but he also never treated her like one of his own. Because he had five of his own from his first two wives.”
She laughed. “This is some soap opera, huh?”
We smiled.
“Glad you appreciate it,” said Renata Blanding.
Acid smile.
“Always happy to entertain…anyway, after the divorce from Frank, with Carrie in school, I cocktail-waitressed at better places. Mostly hotels. Hyatts, Marriotts, that kind of thing. Then I kicked it up to luxury hotels downtown, the New Otani, served plenty of sake. Then someone told me about an opening at The Four Seasons on Doheny near Beverly Hills. That’s where I met Greg, he was in the lounge having drinks with another doctor who wanted a job with Greg’s group. That didn’t go so well but Greg and I did. He’s a total gentleman, brilliant, kind, stable. Never married before, kind of shy, which I find adorable. When we got married Carrie was eighteen and already out of the house for a year, living who-knows-where. Even then, she began distancing herself deliberately. We couldn’t even find her to invite her to the wedding. A small but elegant affairatthe Four Seasons.”
Her fingertip rotated the ice cube. “So there you have it.”
She’d talked a lot about herself, very little about her daughter.
Milo gave me the look.
I said, “At eighteen, Carrie had already drifted away.”
Renata Blanding said, “There was no reason to. She lucked out with Greg as a stepdad. Frank was good luck, too, but Greg was a whole different level. I’m sure you guys have seen what it can be like with boyfriends and stepdads. Nothing like that for Carrie, I hooked up with two nice guys. No abuse, nothing inappropriate, never. But thedifference between Greg and Frank is that Frank was casual, didn’t make much of an effort. Greg really did. When Carrie finally showed up to visit, he couldn’t have been nicer. Whenever she came by, which wasn’t often, he worked at having a relationship with her. An adult relationship, he said, because she was a legal adult and deserved to be treated as one.”
She sniffed. “If anything, he was the easy one. I wake up every morning grateful to have him and Aaron. They’re my heart.”
Touching the corresponding region of bosom.
“Carrie,” I said, “wasn’t interested in a relationship with Greg.”
“Not with any of us. She’d blow in and out, acting breezy, like life was perfect and she didn’t need us. Then, two years later, when I gave birth to my baby, when she did come by she was even frostier. Aaron was an adorable baby but she had no desire to pick him up or play with him.”
She sprang up, walked to a far end of the room, and brought back two photos in standing frames.
Chubby bald baby; chubby, blond teenager. Identical, guileless smiles.
