Chapter 1: Nightmares and Morning Light

Since my earliest memories, I've been haunted by dreams where my mother betrays my father. In these visions, she falls for another man, leaving my dad shattered. I align myself with Dad, feeling a deep fury towards Mom, who appears so self-righteous in her newfound affection. My first encounter with heartbreak occurred during one of these dreams, leaving me breathless with sorrow.

As I awaken, relief washes over me. I find myself in my twin bed, listening to my mother sing softly from the kitchen below—her voice mingling with the melodies of Fleetwood Mac's Rumours. I was oblivious to the album's narrative or the lyrics' meanings, but I sensed that she found joy in these poignant songs of betrayal. Her voice, carried through the thin walls, would often rouse me from sleep, though I believed it was my sadness for Dad that stirred me awake.

Each morning, the dream faded as I heard her melodic tunes drifting through the house.

As the children burst in from the cul-de-sac, my siblings and I—minus little Mary, who was too young to join—began to organize our own neighborhood Olympics. Jimmy, the oldest at eleven, would always approach Mother first, knowing her answer would likely be affirmative. Their footsteps raced up the stone steps, charging through the porch, with Gale, eager to please, ensuring the door wouldn’t bang shut behind them.

Mother, not fond of the noise, warned them that if the door continued slamming, it might break. Jimmy, ever the debater, would argue that the door was built to shut that way, punctuating his point with a dramatic karate chop of his hand.

Gale, who was nine, had noticed how Mother often suffered from headaches, so she would catch the door to ensure a quieter entrance into her realm—the kitchen.

Inside, Mary, just four years old, perched at the breakfast table on a copy of Bartlett's Familiar Quotations, swinging her legs. Hunched over her art, she preferred plain sheets of Mother's typewriter paper to coloring books. As she hummed softly, the chaos of her siblings’ arrival startled her, causing her to look up with wide, innocent blue eyes.

"Sheesh!" Jimmy exclaimed, lifting his foot. "You knocked my shoe off!"

"I wouldn’t have run into you if Gale hadn’t crashed into me!" Katie shot back.

"Shh," Gale interjected. "Mom might be resting."

"Shhh," Mary echoed.

The house fell silent, save for the older kids’ heavy breaths. Jimmy felt a strange tension in the air, almost like wind chimes, and he wondered what was causing Mother to laugh.

Jack Cassidy had arrived again, ready to tackle some household repairs.

Jimmy and the girls had exchanged glances when Jack entered with his usual cheerful demeanor, heading to the garage for Dad's tools.

"Don’t you have your own tools?" Jimmy queried over breakfast.

"James Patrick!" Mother admonished him sharply.

"It’s fine, Jimmy," Jack reassured him. "Your father has tools that are just sitting unused."

Jimmy, puffing up with pride, remarked, "Well, I might need them today."

"Jimmy," Mother replied with a smile, "he's here to help us all, including your father. Dad is busy."

"Why don’t you ever ask me to fix anything?" Jimmy pressed.

"It’s a lovely day, kids. Why not play outside?" Mother suggested.

"Do we have to take Mary?" Katie protested.

"Yes, Kathleen," Mother affirmed.

Mary’s face brightened at the thought of being included, even if it was reluctantly.

Katie stomped her foot. "Mother! Mary will cry, and we’ll have to bring her home soon anyway."

"I won’t!" Mary protested, placing her hand over her heart. "I promise!"

Mother looked between them before conceding, "Alright, Mary can stay. You always find a fun project, don’t you, Mary?"

"Yeah," Mary replied softly, her shoulders drooping.

Jack, holding a greasy bag of donuts, waved it at the kids, and they quickly descended upon it like hungry vultures.

With a wink at Mary, Jack stepped out to retrieve his tools.

The name "Jack Cassidy" carries a weight on my mother’s side of the family—often spoken only by my grandmother, affectionately known as Grammar.

Over the years, Grammar would often say, “If Jack Cassidy were here, he would…” always using his full name, as if to keep him at a distance while also keeping him close in thought.

Jack, a bachelor and a friend of my grandfather, Grappa, was known as a fixer. He helped out around their home and was rumored to have had feelings for Grammar, though this was never explicitly discussed in front of the children. However, my mother would tense up at his mention, and it was clear there was an unspoken history.

What remained uncertain was whether Grammar had ever reciprocated his feelings. My mother believes that while her mother was lonely and perhaps flattered by his attention, she was never truly in touch with her own desires.

Now that both Jack and Rosemary Kelleher have passed away, the question of an affair is irrelevant, yet the implications of their relationship linger in the shadows of our family.

My mother and aunt have recounted a memory of catching Jack and their mother in a potentially compromising moment—Jack on the stepladder, leaning close to Rosemary, gazing up at her. No kiss was confirmed, yet the tension was palpable.

When I shared my draft of this recollection with my mother, she looked at me with disbelief and asked, "How did you know?"

I wonder if she can hear me when I say, "I’m your daughter. You've sung these truths to me my whole life."

The first video, "Maybe It's Love Affair" by Toshiki Kadomatsu, delves into themes of love and longing, reflecting on past relationships and their emotional impacts.

The second video, "UMI - Love Affair [Official Video] | Episode 1 'Love Language,'" explores the nuances of love languages and how they shape connections between people.