Never Surrender--Never Retreat by Lieberman Michael;

Author:Lieberman, Michael;
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781937875800
Publisher: Texas Review Press
Published: 2013-11-14T00:00:00+00:00

It was almost nine when Olivia arrived. Her face, normally long and thin, was drawn to almost equine proportions. She had the look of a filly who had given it her all and come in dead last on an out-of-the-way dirt track in west Texas. It had been a hassle just getting out of Aspen. She had to go stand-by, sure only at the last minute that she actually had a seat. Then her flight from Denver was delayed. They sat confined in their seats on the tarmac for what seemed forever. Finally, the airline deplaned them and transferred them to a new aircraft with a new crew.

As she walked into Morgan’s room, she managed a smile. Morgan was asleep. Tuffy put a finger to her lips and motioned her back to the hall. They eyed each other and exchanged perfunctory greetings. In the lounge they sat across from each other, neither knowing where to begin.

Then Tuffy said, “I know I was a little harsh this morning, but this alcohol thing is really getting to me. I talked with Dr. Joe Cordova just before I called you, and he is concerned. In fact he raised it.”

“I’m not saying it isn’t important, but I know Daddy, and frankly, sometimes I think you’re a little too emotional.”

“You know what, sometimes I think you’re not emotional enough. There is more to life than spreadsheets.”

“What’s that supposed to mean? I don’t think you understand Daddy very well, that’s all. He’s really got great staying power. He can handle this.”

“Honestly, Olivia, you’re just not in touch. Some nights after dinner or a party I would get him home, and it would be all I could do to get him into bed. And then he would puke. I would have to get him out, change the sheets and get him back in, and then hope there wasn’t any vomit on the carpets. Charlie Buchthaler has brought him home dead drunk more than once. We have replaced two right front fenders on the Suburban and rebuilt the brick column at the beginning of our driveway.”

She paused and looked at Olivia’s stone face. “Remember last year how he carried on at the Black History Month dinner? He stood up and started in about ‘What fine people they are, but. . . .’ And then I had to pull him back down into his chair. Don’t tell me I don’t know your father. I’ve lived with him day in and day out for ten years, and I love him, but there have been times I’ve wanted to strangle him. I know every nook and cranny of his moods. I don’t want to be hurtful, but you’re the analytical one. Think for a moment. You only see him at family gatherings, meals, whatever, in a group and maybe have lunch with him once or twice a month. You see him on his good behavior.”

Olivia glared at her. “You’re not going to twist this around. You know very well what I mean.

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