me, Daphne, when you see this place. Just listen to Cold Play and buy expensive things online.”
“No, I’m sure it’s fantastic—very Emily free spirit, the early nineties. So,” she continued, sliding a mug smelling of hazelnut under my nose. I loved being under Daphne’s care. “How are we on the wedding planning?”
“Well, considering that today is a professional day.”
She looked to me, probing for more details.
“I alternate days, one day strictly for wedding planning, the other to work on my art and business.”
“And how far are we on the wedding side?”
“Well, I did finish the Real or Fake assignment,” I quickly said, not willing to go any further than that.
“How about the location? Date set?”
“Actually, that is a bit of a problem. Had to nix Bridgehampton. On the market.”
“Well, if that’s not completely unfortunate.”
“No kidding. And now Catherine wants to have it at the Plaza, which is a bit too Husband Number One and counting for me.”
Daphne then pulled a black leather-bound folder from a stack of cookbooks, re-covering the area with a sheet from the impending remodel. Taking a seat next to me, she took out photos of Henry and Emily with instructions on the portrait she’d like to have me paint of them.
Giving her direction some thoughtful consideration, I pulled out my sketchbook from one of my Searle shopping bags. Flipping through the preliminary drawings I had sketched of Henry and me for our wedding portrait, it dawned on me that I’d be making two pictures of Henrys and Emilys.
“Let me see that,” said Daphne, slipping my book from under my pen where it made a flatline.
“Emily, these are fantastic!” Her eyes lit up, mouth widened—the kind of reaction I would have preferred when she saw my engagement ring.
“I’m actually really excited about doing these portraits. At the museum, I became so inspired from seeing the Sargents. How his paintings were more than pictures of society people—really exposing the character—that’s what I want to do. Rather than trace an image seated before me, I want to learn about my subjects, spend some time with them, see them at their homes and learn how they exist.”
Daphne watched me as if she were under a spell. Shaking her head, she said, “Well, you can certainly spend as much time as you want with those two terrors.” And then Emily and Henry ran in on a Lenny and Squiggy cue.
Emily was naked, her dress flowing from the top of Henry’s head, and they howled like Indians. In fact, Henry and I had done something similar to that the night we came home from the Botanical Garden benefit, but under entirely different circumstances.
“I see that Emily still hasn’t passed her nude phase.”
“Yes,” moaned Daphne. “Though I’d prefer it if you steer away from any nudes of those two. I always found that photographer who took pictures of her kids naked to be a bit weird.”
“Will do,” I said, taking my sketchbook back from her to draw a few ideas. As I scribbled Henry in one of Emily’s protective locks, Daphne looked on.
“Momm-meee!” wailed Emily from the other room.
“What in God’s earth,” Daphne grumbled to herself.
Then Emily and Henry returned to the kitchen panting like dogs.
“Henry won’t give me back my sticker book,” said Emily. Henry’s face was tattooed with stickers.
“I want you both to stop it.”
“Mommy,” said Emily, more calm. “Why is it that you always take Henry’s side?”
Daphne looked to me distressed, and I lifted my hands in a surrender position, not about to touch that one. Considering that I was practically an only child, I would be of no help here.
“I’m the parent!” settled Daphne.
“But,” said Emily.
“No buts. You’re grounded. Time out. No Disney videos. Boarding school. Military school. Just behave! Pizza or Chinese?” she then asked more calmly of her children, receiving cheers for pizza and all the jumps and excitement of a Jack Russell after spotting a life-sized salami.
Even viewing parenting at its most challenging, I still had that occasional longing where my final word could soothe these tiny voices through a bribe or video-watching privileges of a singing sponge.
“But Mommy, what about my sticker book!” Emily wailed.
“Be an older sister and take care of your brother. We have guests.”
Then Emily did her toe stomping bit.
“Emily. I will not tolerate this—you know I’m getting paid whether you act this way or not. Why did teachers say this?” Daphne asked me, and I shrugged. “As if we cared whether they would be paid or not. Em, am I losing it?”
She then breathed out her last threat to her children.
“Go into the den and watch the wedding video.”
They both slipped into line. I found it strange how Daphne’s kids loved watching her wedding video.
“So behave,” ordering her last threat, “otherwise you’ll be locked in the broom closet.” Mumbling to me, she added, “The broom closet we don’t have. And I will give you a dose of castor oil!” Then Daphne, again, said to me as an aside, “What is castor oil anyway? Where does one buy castor oil?”
I supposed a dose of castor oil would be as unlikely a punishment as swallowing a bundle of dynamite or a head flattened by an anvil.
“And what’s an anvil?” I asked.
Daphne shook her head, returning to reprimanding her offspring.
“I will give you castor oil and lock you in the broom closet if you both don’t behave. Then you’ll have an overcoming-all-odds life story for the college essay. You know, I don’t really care anymore.” She then yelled to her children. “Go ahead, run around with scissors, give up the piano, take drugs.”
She then took a gulp of air. Her face was so distraught, then changed, like cutting a smooth papaya. I wiggled my finger to Henry and Emily, where they leaned on the side of my leg.
“Henry,” I said, “what I’m about to say may not apply to you the way it will your big sister, but just humor me and listen up. Now, Emily.” Emily nodded. “These are very crucial years for you, and there are different ways of handling them. You can act up as much as you want or be the kind of little girl that goes along with the program.”
Emily began to crouch, not taking her eyes off of me. She seemed drawn by my shoes, noted by her stroking my laces like a pet bunny.
“Now if you do go
