Elena Undone (17 page)

She gave Peyton a quick hug, but as they parted, Peyton could see the confusion, and hurt in Elena’s eyes.

*

Elena picked at her dinner, deep in thought as Nash wolfed down his burger, Tori waxed poetic on one of her rambles and Barry sat proofing the church’s newsletter.
Why? Why was that woman there? Were they seeing one another again? And if so, why hadn’t Peyton told her?

“...and take Julia Child. I mean, we had to do a report on famous chefs, and here’s the thing I bet you don’t know about Ms. ‘let’s slice the chicken so it looks like a reindeer,’” Tori mimicked the high frequency dialogue of the infamous culinary star. “But while she ended up being famous for her gastronomic genius she was actually once a spy. Yeah, worked in the Office of Strategic Services.”

Tori’s voice drilled into her consciousness while she attempted to understand what had happened earlier at Peyton’s. But once again Tori was at it, “…so naturally I had to look up other folks that were leading double lives. I mean how cool would that be…you know, because on some level, I sort of lead a double life. Anyway, there are the big ones, Benedict Arnold, Mata Hari, et cetera, et cetera—but it’s the ordinary people I was fascinated by. What would make Mr. Joe Average become a spy or lead a double life—what would compel their actions? I really wanted to get into their heads…”

Elena knew that Tori was unlikely to stop and began to feel the food congeal in her stomach. A wave of nausea washed over her. It simply did not make sense to her. Was Peyton keeping secrets from her? Or was it the simple fact that it was none of her business? Elena sighed as Tori’s voice continued to plague her, realizing that what Peyton did with her emotional life had nothing to do with her.

“…Well, greed for one…in my research I found a number of men, naturally—”

“Hey, we’re not all bad!” Nash broke in.

“I don’t think greed is a specifically male issue, Nash,” Tori resumed, “it’s just that women didn’t hold those high-end government positions, so they didn’t get the chance to sell classified info to the KGB. And, you’ll be happy to note that the other reason for leading a double life was love.”

Elena stopped to listen. “Like this dude who was a geologist by profession, Clarence King, who actually convinced this African American woman, Ada CopelandifiAda Cop—who happened to be a former slave, mind you, but had moved north to New York—that he was, in fact, black. They got married, he led this life as an African American railroad worker and gave himself a completely new identity as James Todd, and when he’d go back home, he’d return to his old life as Clarence King, geologist at large—roaming from Wyoming to California. He had like five kids with Ada and it was only on his deathbed that he wrote her a letter telling her the truth.”

They had all stopped eating, stunned by this revelation. Tori glanced at their surprised expressions, then smiled. “See? Tyler’s right. When you find true love, you’ll pretty much believe anything!”

“That was…” Elena’s felt like she might be getting sick, “uhmm…interesting, Tori. I’m sorry, I need to excuse myself.”

“You okay, El?” Barry asked.

“Yeah, just a little light-headed.”

“Where were you today? I tried to reach you all afternoon.” Barry barely glanced up from the newsletter.

“I…I’ve been working on the project.”

“Hmmm?”

“You know, Mom’s doing her photography.” Nash jumped in to bolster his mom. “Isn’t that great, Dad? That Mom has a project that’s just for her?”

Barry looked up from his work, now, glanced about at them all. Then smiled. “Absolutely. I think your mom should have her hobbies—and as long as everything’s humming along smoothly, I think it’s great.”

Nash frowned and was about to say something more, but Elena had no desire for further discussion about a project she was no longer sure about at this very moment. “You need to get to your homework. Tori, can you help him out with his history?”

Tori smiled. “Sure Momma Bear. No problemo.”

The two kids left the kitchen and Elena began to clean up. She felt Barry watching her, waiting for him to say something, but when she turned he had buried his head back into the newsletter. She sighed. Back to it.

*

Peyton sat at Pinot Latte wondering if Elena was going to show up. They had previously arranged a time to go over some chapter break ideas, but after Margaret had shown up, unexpectedly there had been a silence that felt like estrangement. None of the usual daily e-mails back and forth, no phone calls for the past three days. Elena was a half hour late, so Peyton had to assume she wasn’t going to show. She was just finishing the last of her coffee when she saw Elena’s van parking across the street. She watched her sit for a moment before she exited the car. Peyton watched as Elena made her way to the café. She was wearing one of her “church outfits,” which Peyton hadn’t seen for the last few weeks. Even in her draad n in heb clothing, Peyton saw Elena’s beauty, and it suddenly made her feel as if a whole other person lived inside the Elena that was presented to the world, a whole other life she could have had, then stopped herself from thinking any further.

Elena walked up slowly, almost diffidently, and sat down. “Sorry I’m late… I…”

“Sure. No problem.” Peyton cleared her throat, played with her teaspoon.

Elena toyed with a napkin. “Sorry, I probably should have called this meeting off. I didn’t have time to do the research we talked about. Got caught up in a big fundraiser for the church and Nash has had soccer practice three times this week and…they’re in the playoffs and…” Elena’s conversation slowly lost steam.

Elena glanced up at Peyton who was looking off out the window. The handsome jawline that Elena always found intriguing was tightening, as if Peyton was stressed. She so badly wanted to see that smile of Peyton’s that made Elena feel like everything was going to be okay, but she appeared as ill at ease as Elena felt, but when she turned to her her expression was unreadable.

“If you’re too busy, that’s fine,” Peyton replied. “Look, Elena, if there is too much going on in your life, don’t worry about it. I…I totally know how it is when you just have too much—”

“No!” Elena pounced back, then stopped. “It’s just…well, I guess I don’t understand.”

“I’m just saying if you don’t have time for this project, it’s totally okay. Look, I don’t have kids, or a husband and a life outside of my work right now—I can’t expect you to have the kind of time…”

“It looks very much like you have a life outside of this project,” Elena interjected.

Peyton looked at her confused. “What?”

“It’s none of my business, really.”

They sat a moment in silence. “It’s just…I just thought...” Elena tugged at her braid. “She hurt you so badly.”

“Oh…” Peyton finally realized they were talking about Margaret. “Oh, God, Elena. I’m sorry she interrupted us the other day.”

“I don’t understand. Are you seeing her, now?”

“Seeing her?” Peyton wasn’t quite sure how to explain the intricacies and multiple levels of dysfunction of previous lesbian relationships to Elena. “It’s not that. She’s been wanting to try again and I...I’ve been on the fence. But I...”

Elena waited eagerly.

“I just don’t want anything to get in the way of my adopting. I...I just need to stay focused on that.”

“Well, sure. That’s exactly right. You should stay focused on that.” Elena responded. “So, how is that going?”

Awkward silence. The truth of the matter was Peyton had skipped several of the adoption class meetings in order to connect with Elena. She had been so busy otherwise, she hadn’t returned, even though her desire for a child was still every bit as strong as it had been from the start.

“Well, I guess I—we,” she smiled, “have been busy. I thought you had found another agency. Any luck?”

“Yes and no. I found an agency through our church, but…well, I haven’t really followed up.” She suddenly felt guilty.

“You okay?” Peyton asked. Elena looked at her, into her, as only she seemed to be able to do, and suddenly they both laughed.

“I guess we’ve both been so busy with this,” Elena put out her hands to express their connection and project, “that we’ve been letting other things…slide?”

“I’m sorry, that’s the last thing I wanted this to do.”

“Are you kidding, Peyton?” Elena spoke fervently, “This has been one of the best things that’s ever happened to me. I feel…feel alive. Being with you,” she searched for the right way to put it, “makes me feel good. Happy. And I probably needed a break from all that other stuff anyway.”

Elena smiled and Peyton took a long breath, smiled too.

“I’m so hungry,” Elena stammered. “Do you want to get something to eat?”

Sometime later they finished a late lunch, sharing more laughter, the previous awkwardness gone.

“My husband never likes to spend time like this.”

“Like…what?”

“Just being. Being silly. Giggling. We’re like that couple over there.” Elena turned to a couple in their mid-fifties sitting completely uninvolved with one another. “You know…where they’ve lived their entire lives together but they have nothing to say to one another.”

“Hmmmm.” Peyton pursed her lips in sympathy.

“Is it different with you?”

Peyton was still confused.

“You and Margaret? Or women?”

Peyton smiled bleakly and Elena ran on, “It’s just that I never really thought about what it would be like to be in a relationship with a woman. You know women are so much more talkative anyway. I mean I have a really good friend, Diana, from the church, and she and I spend all our time chatter/ditime ching away, so I’m just wondering, is that part of the draw? Having someone to talk to?”

Peyton smiled. “Just because it’s a relationship between two women doesn’t mean it isn’t necessarily dysfunctional, Elena.”

“Not mutually exclusive, hmmm?” Elena smiled back.

“Well, when I was young and idealistic I believed in the premise that the pairing between two women who are driven by emotion rather than sexual conquest would make their coupling somehow more ‘worthy.’”

“I can see that. Women just feel things differently.”

“Apparently not. Lesbians are just like everyone else. Trust me, they have absolutely no claim to morality.”

“So…what about you and…
her?
”

But before Peyton could answer, Wave walked up while they were absorbed in their conversation. She cleared her throat to make her presence known. “Ladies!”

“Oh, hi, Wave.”

“Elena…” Wave surveyed the situation and with a subtle smirk added, “I’d ask if you need anything, but it looks like your cups runneth over.”

As an awkwardness ensued, Elena’s phone rang, Barry on the other end.

Both Wave and Peyton tried to act nonchalant as it was clear Elena had lost track of time and was being chastised by the bellowing voice on the other end, “…over an hour and now he has no way to get home!”

“Oh my gosh, Barry—I’m so sorry. No, I just completely forgot. I’ll be right over.” Elena began to gather her things and then looked up at them both apologetically. “I’m so bad. I completely forgot Barry was bringing his mentee for dinner, and I thought Nash had a way home from soccer practice, but his pal didn’t show up…” She realized she was babbling. “I’m so sorry…I have to run. I’ll see you Tuesday,” Elena added as she got up, waved cursorily to both of them and dashed out the door.

Wave watched as Elena left and then turned to Peyton, shook her head.

“It’s not like that.”

“You, my friend, are playing the oldest and most tragic game in the book.” Wave pushed Peyton aside and sat next to her in the booth, put a hand on her dear friend’s arm. “Lonely housewife meets interesting and quite wonderful lesbo to take a midlife walk on the wild side.”

“My God, Wave can you say ultra straight? Can’t a girl have friends for God’s sake?”

“Trust me, doll, you two are heading for that fork in the road —and once you hit the road less traveled there’s going to be one hell of a tarry messifya tarry.”

*

Elena sat with a group of the church women at their Church of Holy Light’s annual planning retreat. Every year she had girded herself for the full weekend of meetings dedicated to the following year’s activities, fundraisers and special classes, which ended up being meeting after meeting of endless chatter with very little resolution. This year it seemed doubly difficult to prepare herself mentally and to attend all the sundry and picayune topics.

Millie was yattering at such velocity and volume that Elena found herself with a spinning headache. Millie was in her three-piece Ann Taylor suit. It was a deep crimson, what she called her “battle suit,” which she wore during the most important meetings. She continued to issue orders to various of her henchmen, then returned to the “central and most global need for funding. All our efforts must lead to one goal. We must support the most important work we have been blessed to do for God, our father. And all this should culminate in our largest tithing event—our annual fall fundraiser to support whoever’s leading the charge on banning gay marriage.”