Can't Buy Me Love

In all my life I never imagined that something as wonderful as unconditional love could have happened to me. When it happened, I found a foolproof way to end it. He was “unacceptable” but would have given up the little he had to be with me. But, at the time, it wasn’t meant to be. “At the time” is the key.

From the time I turned eighteen, I came to see that life had nothing meaningful to offer me besides Father’s money. Money bought me things but nothing that really mattered like love, happiness, and freedom. Death seemed to be the only route of escape for me, but I lacked the courage to do it myself. I had thought about it. I thought about it many times.

It was these kinds of thoughts that led to Dr. Stewart and his blame it all on me and you’re always wrong and always will be psychobabble bullshit. Oh, yes, don’t forget the pills. Many pills, way too many pills. I told him to give me as many pills as he wanted as long as he’d keep his mouth shut. I wished I hadn’t said that. He actually listened to me when I said that. It almost got me committed. Father told me I’d better be careful or people would be talking about me. They already are. He just doesn’t know it yet. Hmmm… wonder why I don’t have a boyfriend. It was obvious to me.

One cloudy morning I stood at my window watching Father’s workers building another factory across the road. Human labor was our wealth. Human labor and toil.

I looked down to escape the sight and my gaze fell upon the rows upon rows of pills lined like tin soldiers on a general’s map on my bureau. Tears welled up in my eyes out of regret and shame at the turns my life had taken in the past seven years. I can’t do anything about it. I knew that. But I live with the pain and shame that came with the points and stares and even gossip, especially the gossip. All I heard was, “She had it all. Everything she ever wanted at her fingertips and she had to throw it all away.” These people had no idea who I was or even knew the slightest thing about me. Yet they passed judgment on me without a second thought. I thought, “What is so inherently wrong with me?” Obviously, no one dared answer me.

I let out what my butler, Matthew, called the most bloodcurdling howl that he’d ever heard. I flung the objects of my hatred off onto the oak floor below. In my haste, I shattered the pictures of my mother and myself, the only memories I had of her. I sank to my knees in tears upon the discovery, moaning like an animal, not yet dead, but agonizingly close.

I really don’t know a lot about my mother. I wanted to, but no one gave me a chance. She died when I was three months old. No one told me how, no one told me why. I had nothing but my baby pictures and the faded scene of a woman who always had a brilliant smile upon her face. The only real thing I know is that she was a Romanian gypsy named Zingara. My father tried to cover that up but finally admitted it to me. She changed her name to Miriam on her marriage to my father, Martin Brundle.

Matthew hurried to my side and carried me to my bed. Unacceptable or not, I loved him. For a fleeting moment, I wanted to turn back the clock. I wished he’d join me again, as he had long before, in the beginnings of his youth. I believed in love then, unlike now. I think Matthew sensed my feelings because he smiled at me as he always had before and whispered, “Don’t worry now, Lillian. I’m going to care for you. I always do, you know.”

I faintly smiled and surrendered happily to the fatigue and its accompanying darkness.

Sometime later, I was awakened by voices. Martha, my housekeeper, was saying, “Poor, poor girl. I just don’t know how she does it. If I were her, and thank the good Lord I’m not, I couldn’t handle it. Honestly, I think the poor thing’s cracked, if you know what I mean. No mother, basically no father, nobody. I wouldn’t be shocked to wake up tomorrow and see her carted off to the Sanitarium. Probably be best, Josie. Probably be best.”

I wanted to wake up and give those bloody cockneys a piece of mind. Cracked? I don’t think so. Where does she get those foolish notions? Outdated romance novels about whiny, needy female heroines, I think. But I couldn’t find the strength to do it. I thought of Matthew’s smiling face hovering over me as I fell asleep again.

I was awakened again shortly thereafter by the smell of food and man. I grinned widely at the sight of the man who knew more about me than anyone. And that included me. Matthew, obviously delighted at my well-being, grinned back.

I’d hoped he would come and smile at me again. I always loved his smile. But then, I loved everything about him, from the unruly mop of dark hair to the glassy blue eyes and….

“How are we feeling this lovely evening?”

Damn. I looked up and saw Matthew’s wide grin and a tray of food in his hands.

“I brought you some dinner if you’re hungry. Chicken noodle soup. Not your favorite, I know. But you must eat light. Doctor’s orders.”

“What doctor? No doctor was…”

Matthew chuckled. “Dr. Matthew Collins, at your service. Didn’t you know?”

“No, I didn’t know. I suppose we don’t pay you enough?” I laughed, even though pain racked through my body.

“Thank you, Mattie.” Mattie… I hadn’t called him that since I was… well, old enough to know better but too young to care.

He settled the tray in my lap and turned to leave. I moved the tray to the nightstand by the bed and called out to him, asking him to stay. He came back and sat gingerly on the edge of the bed.

I couldn’t help but be amused. Mattie, afraid? That couldn’t be right. He wasn’t a large man by any standard. But he was tenacious. He never gave up. He feared nobody. So for him to sit in fear on my bed was something extraordinary. We had shared many long nights in this same bed. Then Father found out.

I looked over at him. He should be shaking by now, he was so frightened. I asked him if he was afraid.

“No, of course I’m not afraid. What a foolish thing to say!”

I sat back and took notice of his harsh tone. That was unlike Mattie.

“Then what’s wrong? It’s only me,” I asked. “You remember me, don’t you? The way things used to be?”

I began the ‘we can have everything back the way we had it before’ lecture, but I couldn’t bring myself to finish.

Mattie took a deep, troubled breath and collected his thoughts. Finally, he spoke. “Of course I remember. Those nights simply don’t fade away. I don’t think they ever could, really.” He began to laugh, to laugh that wonderful, infectious laugh I loved so many years ago. “To be more superficial, I simply didn’t want to spill your food.” His face began to lose the sparkle and shine that accompanied the sound of his brilliant laughter. “But I’m glad you brought this up. I would never have found the courage.”

I collected my thoughts and summoned my courage in a futile attempt to make the wrong thing I did into a right one. At least it was futile to me.

“Mattie, I’m glad you understood what I was getting at. I wasn’t too sure if I understood what I was getting at. But there’s one thing that’s left for me to say. Now, I don’t care if you agree or even care about what I’m going to say, but I’m going to say it anyway. So, here it is. Now, I know that plenty of… memories passed between us. That was years ago, I know. But I think that allowing my father to get in the way and tear what we had apart was wrong. Certainly, hindsight’s 20-20 and it’s a wonderful thing. But I was young and didn’t know what I really wanted or, even if I did, couldn’t say what I wanted out of fear, whichever it is. I let Father dictate that for me. But now I know what I want and it’s the same thing I wanted seven years ago. And that’s for us to be together. I love you, Mattie. I always have. That’s why you’re still here now. Father wanted to send you away, but I couldn’t bear any semblance of a life for myself without you. I want us to be together. But most importantly, I need to know what you want. If you don’t want the same thing I want, I can deal…”

In the midst of my speech, Mattie answered my question without a word being spoken. He leaned over and kissed me like nothing had ever changed.

“You know what I want? I want you. I always wanted you. You don’t know how much courage it took to keep from simply grabbing you and kissing you. I want those nights back. I want to make up for all the time I lost with you.” He chuckled. “At the beginning, it was purely physical from my point of view. Those chocolate eyes; soft, flowing black hair; long, shapely legs.” Here he coughed. “Then I had to content myself with seeing you from a “professional” point of view. That about gave me a nervous breakdown. I came to see that you were as beautiful on the inside, if not more, than you were on the outside. I fell in love with you. Simple as that.” He fell quiet again. He looked at me with tears rimming in his eyes and whispered, “I love you. I’ve always loved you.” He began to cry even heavier now.

I reached over and took this obviously frail man in my arms and held him. I didn’t care how long or who came in and saw us. I just held him.

A few moments later, he sat up and simply looked at me. He looked over at the food on the table and smiled. “Soup’s cold. Let me go warm it back up for you.”

I put my arm out to stop him. “Please don’t go.” I patted the empty side of the bed. “You can join me if you want.” At his open, though not unexpected, astonishment, I laughed and said, “It’s fine. Really. This is my house. I make my own rules. I could order you to stay, but that wouldn’t be much fun, now would it?”

With these words, the gregariously youthful Mattie returned. He laughed that beautiful laugh again. This time he let himself go, throwing his head back and roaring like a lion.

I thought of all the time I knew such a wonderful, caring man. How did I ever let him go? Then I saw the shadow of a dominating man standing before me. It was Father.

“I’m never letting that happen again. Never,” I muttered.

Mattie looked up. “What?”

I shook my head, gazed at Mattie and said simply, “Nothing. Absolutely nothing.”

“Good.” He smiled warmly. The stress lines on his face had eased in the few short minutes he spent with me in my bedroom. He resembled the Mattie I knew before, young and happy. I had changed greatly in seven years and appreciated the new person experience had forced me to become. I knew he had matured. I’d seen him every day since then. But I loved Mattie for the person he was then and the person I knew he could become. I only hoped that he had found his full potential.

I must have looked deep in thought for Mattie looked at me strangely. I raised my head and met his eyes - those blue eyes - and asked, “Why are you looking at me like that?”

Mattie smiled again - he smiled a lot now - and said, “You look so serious. I know you’re still thinking about the past. But you’ve got what you want now. We’re both adults. There’s nothing he can do about it anymore.”

He began to reach for me when the door opened. It was that damned nosy maid Martha. I swallowed my contempt and asked, “What do you need?”

She glanced back and forth between Mattie and myself and stammered, “N…nnn…nothing. Nothing at all.” She walked, or tried to, backward out the door, but fell over a lounge chair in the far left corner of the bedroom. Martha picked herself up and bolted from our presence.

When she left, Mattie looked over at me and we both began to laugh. Mattie wiped the tears from his eyes and said, “Oh, boy. Ooh, boy. She’s going to tell everybody.” He straightened up when he realized what he had said. “She’s going to tell everybody. Everybody. Do you know what that means? The staff… She’ll tell the staff.” He paced the length of the room feverishly.

I walked over to him in a fruitless attempt to calm him. “She didn’t see anything. You were sitting with me. That’s all. It’s purely innocent.”

He grinned at that. “Innocent. That’s the last thing I want it to be.” He closed his eyes with that thought lingering in his head. “I just don’t want everyone to know.”

“Well, if that’s how you feel, then so be it.” I turned my back to him. “You know, I could put you through a guilt trip. But I’m…oh, what the hell.” I began to shout. “I love you, Mattie. I adore you with every ounce of my being. I always have.” He turned to face me, so I stopped shouting. “Since I met you, I haven’t thought about anybody else. And I don’t want to. I thought you cared about me and accepted who I was. You didn’t want my money. You wanted me. You seemed to love me. Maybe you are a servant. But I don’t care. I’m not ashamed of you. I want to shout from the rooftops that I love you and that we’re always going to be together. So, I don’t care if everybody knows. In fact, I want them to know.” I sat down on the bed exhausted.

Mattie’s face had lost most of its color by this time. He tried to smile but it was painfully obvious he couldn’t. He was ashamed. He said, “I didn’t mean that the way it sounded. But I can’t take it back. What I meant was I didn’t want to have everyone find out so early and jeopardize my position in the household if this didn’t work out.”

“I understand. I really do. But you shouldn‘t care what other people think. You never cared before. But I don’t think that this working out presents a problem. But I think this will work out.”

He smiled at me once more. “I think so, too. I really do.”

I smirked, trying to contain my laughter. “I certainly hope so. Because I’m tired of chasing after you.”

Mattie absolutely howled at that. He wiped tears from his eyes and said, “You may have to swat me to keep me away from you.”

“I don’t want to keep you away from me. I want to spend every waking moment for the rest of my life lying next to you. I want….”

Reaching up, I wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed him. Mattie gasped as our lips met. Apparently, he wasn't affected too much as he gently pulled me too him.

Suddenly, Mattie pulled back and grinned. "I've been waiting for this moment for a very long time. But I‘m getting to be an old man now, if you remember. So I‘ve got to be careful." He winked at me. I got his point.

Looking at his smiling, energetic face, I was reminded of a time when this sort of situation was a common occurrence, almost daily in fact.

While I was lost in thought, I began to stroke his ears. Mattie had rather large ears, not on par with Prince Charles, but large nonetheless.

Mattie began to laugh, how I loved to hear that laugh, and said, "What on earth are you thinking about so hard?"

"The past."

"Let it go, Lil. The past is the past and there is nothing we can do to change it. So, please just let it go. You‘ll make yourself sick."

“It’s part of my life. I can’t just ignore it.”

“You have to accept that it happened and move on. Besides, we’re together now. Isn’t that what you wanted?” He frowned, seeing my intensity. "If you don't want to go through with this, then we won't. Just say the word and I'll get up and go back to my own bed."

"You’re right, I don’t want to.” He pouted like a baby. “Not now, at least. But don’t leave. I don’t think I could bear being alone tonight.”

He nodded. “Alright, I won’t leave. Just please don’t cry. I can’t bear to see you upset.”

“I’m not crying. But I’m upset.”

Mattie crawled in beside me. I never knew how much I missed him until then. I felt so comfortable that I started to doze. As I drifted off to sleep, I could hear Mattie whispering in my ear, “I promise you, you’ll never hurt again. I’ll protect you, even if it costs me my life.”

The next morning found Mattie and I curled up in bed together. We talked of our hopes and dreams for our new life together and how no one was ever going to come between us. However, dreams don’t often come true this easily for people like me.

Mattie had just reached around to wrap his arms around me when Martha, my useless maid, rushed into my room.

“Sorry to charge in on you like this, ma’am, but Master Brundle is coming to speak to you.” She turned and walked out, as calmly as if nothing ever happened.

Mattie and I simply looked at each other in shock. Why was I shocked? I’m a grown woman, you say? I should live my life the way I want to live my life. Believe me, I know. I’ve heard all this before.

When I finally gathered my wits, I ran to my closet to get dressed and told Mattie that he should run for his life. My father is a jealous, paranoid, and overprotective freak. He doesn’t want me to have any friends, wants to know exactly what I’m doing at all times, and tries to control every aspect of my life. So, why push his buttons? I know I’m grown. But he’s not dead yet.

As Mattie and I finished dressing, the chamber doors to my bedroom swung open and my father swooped in, like the bat version of Dracula in the old movie.

“I thought I heard those pesky servants gossiping about the two of you. What the bloody hell do I pay them for? To stand around and gossip? Especially about my own daughter. My flesh and blood!” He jabbed his finger, bloated from old age and disease, in my face. “You can’t betray me. I’m all you have.”

I tried, to no avail, to calm my father, to make him understand things from my point of view. But I made the mistake of saying that things between Mattie and I weren’t what they looked like. Somehow I knew I was going to be in more trouble for saying that. And not necessarily with my father.

Mattie looked so serious, or confused, I’m not sure. He knew I was exaggerating, didn’t he? I only tried to save myself from my father. The one thing I do know is that he was so adorable when he looked serious. His pouting lips, furrowed eyebrows, large sad doe eyes, and quivering mustache made him appear as if he were a child about to be punished by an overbearing parent.

I calmly asked Mattie what I had said or done to make him angry with me. In a manner that was very unusual for him, full of sarcasm and coldness, he glared at me and said, “I thought you weren’t ashamed of me. Now you’re denying me. Let’s see if you can deny me three times before the cock crows. You’ve an hour.”

I knew what he meant. Comparing himself to Jesus and me to Peter wasn’t a brilliant move, though. But I also knew exactly what I had to do. So I squared around and faced my aging but still dominant father.

"I'll live my life the way I want to live my life, whether you like it or not. You simply can't tell me what to do like I'm one of your many factory workers. I'm not a piece of meat. I'm your damn daughter for God's sake!"

"I'm your bloody father, Lillian. You are mine! You will do as I say. Without question. You are a Brundle. You will follow my orders without a single hesitation. You will live where I say live. You will marry if and when I, and I alone, deem it is necessary. You will marry who I choose for you to marry. You will eat only what I say you may eat." He paused to take a breath, which he didn't deserve to take, if you want to be honest about it. "As for him," pointing at Mattie, "he's fired."

As my father turned to storm out of the room, he collapsed, gasping for breath. My instincts turned on and, against my better judgment, I ran to his side. Martha, standing in the next room, ran for the nearest phone.

When I kneeled beside him, his face had turned a sickening gray, with foamy sweat pouring down his face and dampening his usually starched collar. He gazed up into my eyes and said three little words I thought I’d never hear but had longed my entire life for him to say to me.

“I love you.”

Just then the emergency crew rushed in and my father was carried to the hospital. There he laid three days recovering from a massive heart attack. When he seemed to get better on the third day, he suddenly died. My father said repeatedly when I was a child that he never liked to lose. My father knew he was on the losing end of everything this time but did whatever he could to have his way. That was the way he was. You didn’t have to like it, but you did have to accept it. You didn’t have to love him, but you did have to respect him. Yet I did neither for my entire life until that time.

My father was now gone and I was free to live the way I wanted to. But I was extremely saddened and somewhat hesitant. I’d never been able to make my own decisions before. I honestly didn’t know what to do. But I still had Mattie.

Exactly a month after my father’s funeral, Mattie and I were married. It was a small wedding in contrast to the lifestyle I was used to, with just family and friends attending. But Mattie and I were happy, happier than we’d been in a long time, and certainly happier than we deserved to be. We had one child, a son, Martin, after my father. In my own way, I loved my father. In his own way, I suppose he loved me as well. For a single working father, he did the best he knew how to do. He tried to give me a happy childhood but equated material things and wealth with love. When he died, I was born. I had the happy life I wanted and that he wanted me to have but was unable to give to me by resolving the conflicts with my childhood. So in a manner of speaking, dying was the nicest thing he’d ever done for me.