Dear Cary - Dyan Cannon [102]
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Standoff
Dad called from the airport the next morning as soon as he arrived. Cary had already left for the studio. By then, I’d pulled myself together, more or less, but I dissolved into tears as soon as I laid eyes on him.
He didn’t say anything, but his eyes flashed with shock when he saw me. He wrapped me up in his arms and held me for several minutes. When he let go, the shoulder of his jacket was damp with tears. We sat down on the couch.
“What’s going on, sweetheart?” Dad asked me firmly. “Tell me.”
It came out in drips and drops, then splatters, then torrents. I’m not sure I was really even aware of what I was telling him, but he knew it was bad. I finally wound down. Dad looked at me and asked, “Is that all, Dyan?”
“Yes.” I sighed.
He looked at me. “Dyan, Addie told us you’ve been taking LSD. Is that true?”
Well, Addie and I were certainly going to have a little talk, too.
“Yes,” I replied weakly.
Dad was now on red alert. I could see his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down as he tried to swallow his alarm.
Once again, I found myself defending Cary. I tried to explain to Dad that LSD wasn’t for fun, that it was part of Cary’s spiritual exploration, that he was such a believer in the drug as a force for good . . . that Cary believed it had brought him closer to God.
“Dyan, I can’t speak for Cary, but as far as I can see, the only thing it’s bringing you closer to is misery. Honey, listen. I’ve been reading up on this stuff, and there’s only one conclusion to come to: it is extremely dangerous. You know they’re talking about outlawing it, and they should. It’s insane that it’s not already against the law.” Dad put his face in his hands and rubbed his eyes. “You’re playing with fire, and your mother and I are extremely concerned.”
There was nothing I could say. I buried myself in my father’s arms and I wept.
Cary came home in the early afternoon. The four of us—Cary, my dad, Jennifer, and I—spent some polite time together. Cary went on as if nothing was amiss, but there was an unsettling glint in his eye. On the outside, he was low-key and friendly, but underneath the mask, he was like a cat in a crouch, waiting to pounce. The forced civility was driving me nuts. Right about when I didn’t think I could stand it any longer, it was Jennifer’s feeding time. It was a relief to escape to the nursery, where I gave her a bottle and I sat rocking her, taking refuge from the tension in the living room.
After a while, I heard Cary and Dad talking in the hallway. They were speaking softly. But there was an edge to the conversation that made me uncomfortable. I tucked Jennifer into her crib and stepped out of the bedroom and literally into the middle of that conversation.
“Why are you giving her drugs, Cary? What do you think it’ll accomplish?”
“LSD saved my life, Ben. And it can save hers too.”
“From what, Cary? Is her life in jeopardy? Because if it is, I want to know about it!”
“Anyone who hasn’t faced the truth about themselves is in jeopardy.”
“She doesn’t need drugs, Cary. She needs love. Your love. And it doesn’t look to me like she’s getting a lot of that.”
“How would you know about that, Ben?”
“She’s my daughter. And I know her better than anyone.”
“Well, she’s my wife, Ben. She lives under my roof. That means she’s under my jurisdiction now.”
Jurisdiction. The word stopped me cold. I wasn’t under his wing. I wasn’t under his roof. I was under his “jurisdiction.”
They were both tall men, and I stood between them, my head at the level of their chests as they battled over my well-being, eye to eye. They were so absorbed in the subject of me that I don’t think they even realized I was there.
And maybe I wasn’t, I thought. I felt more and more like I was turning into a ghost, invisible to the two men I loved most in my life, watching voicelessly as they argued with the deeply swallowed anger that is peculiar to gentlemen,