November 16 2006 - "Meeting Missy's Parents"
This has been edited to reflect the new chapter numbering.
This is a rough outline with text of a scene several chapters later, where Walt (who we meet in Chapter 1) and Missy (who we met in Chapter 1) have independently met and gone through a quick courtship. It's this secondary relationship that brings Elisabeth and Michael back together after their brief assignation in Aberdeen.
Of course, to be the potential husband of a woman who is fourteenth in an unbroken matriarchy has some challenges...especially when meeting her parents. But Missy isn't treating her relationship with Walt in the customary family way either; the storyline gives me a second crack at the underlying theme of cultural change which has an ever larger role in the book.
The Missy-and-Walt scenes are the only ones not presented from either Elisabeth's or Michael's viewpoint, and perhaps will mix both their perspectives inside the chapter (something I rarely do). I'm starting to think they might be self-contained, a sort of short story in the middle of the novel.
Missy takes Walt to Kentucky to meet her parents.
They owned an enormous white mansion with an elegant stonework driveway. There were servants. Actual servants.
= = =
Missy alone with Dad (Louis)
What do you think?
He's not what I expected. Rather more utilitarian.
You're a stinker.
He seems suitable enough. Good family?
Mother's dead, unfortunately, but apparently a terrific woman. Dad's a tough old goat.
Got his own money?
Yes.
Do you like him?
I like him a lot.
Isn't this when you tell me to be nice to him?
No. Not especially. I don't think he scares easy. She kissed his cheek. I should go rescue him from Mama.
When she left he lit his cigar again. "Wisnewski," he said aloud, shaking his head. Best to get comfortable saying it.
= = =
Walt came back from the bathroom to find dessert cleared. Missy and her sister sat at the two televisions, each with a joystick playing the same video game, a gory first-person shooter. Mama sat on the couch watching intently. "Do you play too?"
"She's the best of us," said Missy. Her avatar was a sleek brown-skinned brunette, in a black catsuit with red epaulets, carrying a BFG that shot globs of sky-blue plasma. Missy threw her body sideways, almost to the floor. Her avatar ducked past two glistening cyclopes, turning around to take them out.
"She gets more time to practice," sister (name??) said. A spear grazed her avatar, a red-headed clown with fangs, already visibly weakened. Her heart icon flashed in warning. "Where the fuck are the health crystals?"
"I'm impressed," Walt said.
"Best thing for the aging brain. Stimulates the amygdala. Increases your visual acuity," Mama said. "You should play."
"But now you go away," Missy said. "Ladies play games in the parlor, gentleman take brandy and cigars in the drawing room." After that she completely ignored him, throwing herself into the game.
"Brandy then?" Louis asked, nodding toward the door.
"Rather have bourbon."
"We can do that." They walked down a long ornate hallway lit softly, as if by candles. At the end was a game room, brightly lit with kelly-green walls, pool table to the left and small lounge to the right. The room looked as if it dated from the 1960's, boxy lean canvas seating, tables in formica and dark woodgrains. Louis noted Walt's smile. "Like it? 50th birthday present from the wife." He stepped behind the wetbar and fished the ice tray out of the fridge. "Bourbon, you said?" He picked one of the decanters on the main bar. "Very locally-minded of you. Ice?"
"Please."
"I'm having scotch." He poured Walt's glass, then searched through the bar. "That will do," he said to a 14-year old Highland, and poured a small drink.
"Cheers."
"Cheers." The bourbon was sweet, with a soft finish. They talked about the explosion in high-end bourbons in the last few years over eight-ball. Walt didn't play too attentively but nonetheless spanked Louis both games. After the second win Walt tried to play sloppily, but even his attempted errors worked to his advantage. They played nine-ball in the fourth game, and Walt ran the table from the break. "I'm glad we weren't playing for money," Louis said. He leaned against the bar rail. "I'd like to sit now, if that's all right."
"Of course." Louis walked steadily enough to the lounge. They settled into white Eames chairs, a marble ashtray and a cigar box on the oval walnut table between them. "Walt, what are your intentions toward my daughter?"
"I think Missy is the greatest thing since sliced bread and I want her with me every day of my life always."
"I agree with you, on your first point. As for the second, I suppose I'm glad to hear it."
"Thank God for that."
Louis made a moue of distaste. "You'll have to watch your invocations in this house."
"I'm trying to learn. What do you think of it all?"
"Think of it? You've seen the rites," he said, as if this explained it.
"No, I haven't. That's her thing. I don't see why I need to be a part of it. I mean, I'm respectful of it. It's an interesting belief. But it's also her job, you know. She runs this coven, it's work. I have my work. And really I don't want us taking our work home. And I don't want my girlfriend, or my wife, to be my boss. Not even in a spiritual sense."
Louis looked astonished, as if Walt had dismissed something essential and apparent, as if Walt was a dumb fuck. "But she's the one with the power."
"That's not why I love her."
"You're being naive."
"Am I? A big company doesn't have to buy out a little company. They can contract for specific services. They can partner and collaborate but remain independent. She's a bigger firm but we're not in a contest with each other. We're collaborating."
"But there are rules that will bind you."
"There are always rules."
"You can only have girls."
"Oh. That." Walt sighed. "OK, sure, that took a little getting used to. Have they ever had boys?"
"There was one in the 1880s, a brother to Mama's mother. Died three weeks after birth. Crib death."
"Yeah. Well. I'm fine with girls. Weren't you?"
Louis took the question hard. "I love my daughters," he said. This was getting testier than Walt had hoped.
"Look, our kids will be great kids. As for the other rules - so she has to work on certain nights and follow some diets or routines. It's like living with an actress."
"And the daughters will be raised as the mothers. You can't even pick their schools."
"I can teach them to snowboard."
"I'm starting to understand why she likes you."
Walt smiled and sipped his drink. Some of Walt's attitude had nothing to do with Walt himself, but Louis needn't know that. Louis was from a different generation, a time of masculine dominance and acquisitive power, people who dreamed of owning not renting. For his own time Louis was very forward-looking; for Walt's time, from the time of Missy and Walt's children, Louis was tied down to a hundred pointless things. Walt took another sip to keep from talking.
He looked back at Louis, who was asleep. From down the hall he heard the faint sounds of the video games. Walt wondered if these conversations would be harder for Missy than for him.