Roxy Harte (36 page)
Authors: Sacred Revelations
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“Do you need anything?” He pulls me closer, molding against me and it is nice. With Thomas against my chest and Garrett at my back, I can relax.
“Sedatives.” I sigh, going for a joke but it comes out sounding desperate. Turning me into him, Garrett kisses my forehead, whispering against my face, “I know George came prepared but I’d prefer that you experience this without numbing your emotions with pills.”
I push my face into his lips and he kisses me softly. “Okay.”
“Garrett? Garrett Lawrence? Is that you?” A shrill voice breaks the solace of our private, though very public group hug.
We all turn to face a woman who I don’t recognize.
“Steve’s mom, Silvia Lowenstein! Surely you remember. It seems like yesterday that you boys were burning the midnight oil at our kitchen table. I didn’t know you knew Brother Alexander.
As distraction from the conversation between Garrett and Mrs. Lowenstein, I watch George, standing across the room, with a mixture of amusement and embarrassment as women from the church converge on him as they tried to do to me earlier. I escaped by being distant and blatantly rude as only one in mourning can do without being thought the worst of. George has no defense and, for a moment, I feel sorry for him, but then I catch his wink and I imagine that he is enjoying the attention. Vanilla women, church-going pious women, petting him, bumping him accidentally, flirting as only women stuck in a small town faced with a possible escape route can flirt, and he is enjoying it. I wonder what perversion is going through his mind…
The woman introduced as Mrs. Lowenstein won’t be ignored, her shrill voice as impossible to escape as nails on a chalkboard. I want to cover my ears.
“Have you seen Steve since you’ve been in town? I suppose not, I hardly ever see him myself, although I see his wife every day. Ellen Kramer, I think you dated her for a while before moving out west…”
Garrett dated a girl named Ellen? Okay, this could be interesting. I want to know about Ellen.
“Not to be impolite, but I was thrilled to hear you’d moved out west, making that charming girl eligible!”
She grants a glance at me, explaining with a wink, “She was quite a catch, I couldn’t be happier that Garrett left her standing at the altar, and now…I'm a grandma and couldn’t be happier about it!”
I lift my brow at Garrett, asking silently, “Is this true? You left a girl standing at the altar?”
He answers her, looking at me, “You exaggerate a bit, we never made it quite as far as the altar.”
“Just the same, she was devastated and my Steve was there to pick up the pieces. You have to see their babies!”
I feel Garrett’s cringe as she pulls out a thick miniature album, on the front of which is scrawled
Grandma's Little Angels
.
“I really don't know when he and Ellen had time to make these precious little bundles, but they've given me five. Five grandchildren! I'm a lucky woman. Five precious babies and every single one with a silver spoon in its mouth. You have no idea how proud I am of Steve.” Mrs. Lowenstein whisks a tear from the
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corner of her eye. “And you, tell me all the details so I can fill Steve in on your life. I know he’ll be so disappointed to hear he missed seeing you and of course your girlfriend. Are there wedding bells in the future? I know we shouldn’t talk about it now, but who knows when we’ll ever talk again.”
My Dad seems to smirk from his satin-lined observation point. Mrs. Lowenstein keeps going, not noticing my or Garrett’s discomfort. She turns to me and takes my hand. “Of course, a baby would help you get over this horrible grief. Losing a parent is hard, but the love of a new baby… Why that’s a miracle that will cure all. And think, you could name the new one after your father, a tribute to his greatness.”
Latching onto Thomas, I walk away, leaving Garrett to his own devices. Rude covered by distraught is always okay. I cling to the side of the casket, Thomas close enough to hide my fake tears. My father seems to really be enjoying the moment and I realize the smirk on his face is real, frozen in his death mask. “Thomas?”
“Sophia?”
“If I swoon, is that enough reason to get me out of here?”
“No. I think funeral homes are used to swooning women, but if you were brave enough, you could just walk away and no one would notice.”
* * * *
“Are you okay?” he asks, standing. “Sorry, I’m not being much support am I? I shouldn’t be hiding.”
“I’m okay.” I sigh, sitting down beside him. The table is a cheap fold-out model. I rub a coffee stain ring with my finger, not looking at Garrett, focusing on the soiled tabletop. I don’t want him to know how deeply I’m feeling his loss. “And if you’re here hiding, I think I must be the one who deserted you. Are you okay?”
“I’ll be okay. Coffee?”
“Only if you’re prepared to give me sips from your mouth.”
If you leave me, I will never sip again
from a man’s mouth…Lord Fyre doesn’t do that.
“I don’t think the natives would understand.”
“The natives don’t have to understand,” I say, accepting the steaming cup of coffee he offers. “As long as we understand.”
He sighs, sitting nearer. “Do we understand?”
I choke on my coffee, dribbling it down the front of my dress. Thank God it’s black. “I hope so. If we don’t know what we’re doing, how can we expect anyone else to understand it?”
Garrett snorts. “I may need you to explain it all to me.”
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“Did this somehow get more complicated when I wasn’t paying attention?” I set down the Styrofoam coffee cup too hard and hot, black coffee sloshes over the edge of the rim. One more stain to add to the collection of others because I don’t have the energy to search for a towel. I don’t have to imagine the emotional state of the one who left the last stain…I’m right there with him.
“Maybe, yes, I think it did, and that’s my fault. I asked Thomas to top both of us when we get back toSan Francisco , without even mentioning it to you.” He pauses, taking my hand across the table in the silence. “But I don’t know if I can go through with it. Any of it. I don’t know that I want to share or be shared.”
Shaking, I pick up the cup, ducking my face as I sip coffee, hiding, I hope, the hurt I know is reflected in my eyes as well as hiding my sweaty palms against the white Styrofoam. Watching Garrett from the corner of my eye, I wonder if this is it, if this is going to be our good-bye for real, but he doesn’t say anything else and I am thrilled when Thomas and Jackie arrive together to insist that we leave.
* * * *
Now, he sits across the room so stone still and distant I am ready to strangle him.
I’m the one who’s supposed to be in shock. I just buried my father, but to look at Garrett, you’d think it had been one of his parents.
I’m pissed off that he is getting more attention than me, even though I sit in Thomas’ lap, pretending to watch television. I don’t have a clue what show is playing, only that there is canned laughter and occasionally Thomas chuckles softly.
I watch Garrett.
“I saw you with Mrs. Lowenstein,” Jackie says to him sarcastically. “Was she bringing back wonderful memories?”
Garrett leans toward her, demanding, “Let it go, Jackie!”
I look at Thomas, but he shrugs, neither of us knowing what is going on.
“It was a huge affair. The wedding of Stephen Lowenstein and Ellen Kramer was the biggest social event of the decade,” Jackie says breezily, taking time to check her reflection in a mirror, tucking a curl, smoothing an invisible perfection on her high arched brow. “I thought for sure you’d have received an invitation as well, but then when you weren’t at the wedding…”
“You went to the wedding? You’ve got to be fucking joking!” Garrett shrills before sighing and leaning back into his chair to close his eyes. Softer, he whispers, “Did Ellen look happy? No. Don’t answer that, I don’t want to know any of it.”
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Jackie keeps talking, though more to the empty room, or perhaps to George, because he nods his head as she rambles. “Funny thing, halfway across the world Garrett meets Celia and yet there was only ten miles between where they each grew up. Then here, her father is operated on by his ex-fiancée’s husband. George, did Garrett ever mention the rivalry he had with Steve, during his college days? Yes, it’s a funny thing that Garrett found Celia and Steve ended up with Ellen…”
I mentally hug him from across the room, feeling the total and complete loss of him, not because of my need for Thomas, but because of a woman’s name from his past.
I watch as the room shifts, Jackie excuses herself to the ladies room, although there is only one bathroom in the two-bedroom suite. George stands and crosses the room to hug Garrett for real, making him look at him when he grabs his chin and forces him to meet his gaze. “Deal with your fucking demons, Garrett.”
Garrett pushes back, stands and, passing me, storms out of the room; but it is only a second later that he storms back in.
“Get your shoes on, Kitten. If you’re mine still, you’re coming with me.”
Thomas’s arm tightens slightly around my waist but otherwise doesn’t react.
I move to stand and Thomas’s arm immediately slacks, releasing me. Without looking at anyone, I put on my shoes and step out into the cold, icy night.
* * * *
“It'll be okay, Celia. Mom is going to love you,” he says, but for a reassurance, he doesn’t do a good job. Unsmiling, he still wrestles with whatever has put him in this funk. We agreed to use Celia, not wanting to explain Kitten as a name. Driving into an Indian Hills neighborhood, mansions all in a tidy row, I don’t think my name will make a difference as to what his mother thinks of me. “For her, it’s early, she’ll be awake.”
“It's five o'clock in the fucking morning! I’m wearing a T-shirt, flannel pajama bottoms, and flip-flops, Garrett! I am not meeting your mother!” I struggle to stay in the car. Garrett pulls me out easily and pushes me forward up the flagstone steps. The heavy scent of wood smoke, filling the cool air, assails me. Someone is enjoying their fireplace on this cold winter morning. My breath comes out as white fog as I hug my bare arms.
“You look fine. I’m wearing khaki shorts and K-Swiss. She won’t care.
“I look awful.” I pout, having not even put on makeup before leaving the hotel. When he said, “I want to take you someplace,” my brain went right to the gutter. I thought he wanted to take me someplace where we could be alone and make out, not to meet his parents.
The porch light comes to life.
“Just don’t expect June Cleaver, okay?”
“Who?”
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He looks at me and shakes his head. “Never mind. Smile, mom is going to love you.”
* * * *
Just whose idea was it to power walk the neighborhood at six in the morning? Garrett is no help, having sprinted ahead in a jog that made it appear he was training for the Boston Marathon. He is no longer even in sight.
“So what's the story between you and my son?”
I choke on my own saliva, and stop in my tracks, doubled over, making a big deal of breathing. I peek at her tidy figure draped elegantly in white, not a drop of sweat visible, wondering how a woman of sixty manages to look so good.
“Well?” she asks, not forgetting what led up to my wheezing attack.
“There isn’t a story. We’re dating,” I manage. Her eyes narrow.
“Really? My son’s gay. He owns a lewd sex club. What he does cannot be called dating.” She power walks away.
I jog to catch up. “Fine. We’re not dating. We live together,”
She stops dead in her tracks. “My son is gay. I don’t know what kind of trickery you’re playing at, but it’s taken me a very long time to accept that my only son will never give me grandchildren, so how dare you taunt me with lies.”
“I’m sorry, I wasn’t taunting you,” I protest.
“Did you know Tony?” she asks, not waiting for my answer. “He was a lovely young man. He sure charmed the pants off Garrett. My husband hated Tony with a rare passion.” Her voice catches, but only for a moment. “He hasn’t spoken to Garrett since the day Garrett left med school to be with Tony.”
I can’t speak, not knowing what to say.
“My family was destroyed by Garrett’s unnatural inclinations. So, whatever game is going on between you and my son…take it back toSan Francisco . I will not let you destroy my husband by giving him false hope that he didn’t raise a queer after all. Did you even consider that Garrett only brought you here to meet his parents for one reason? Maybe to get back in his father’s good graces? Does he need money?
Well, he won’t get that. My husband wrote him out of the will years ago. So take my son back toSan Francisco and that horrible sex club he calls home.”
