Elena Undone (21 page)

“Tori, does it ever hurt to carry all that information in that head of yours?”

“Like a horse to water, gotta drink...gotta think.”

“Well, you will never bore anyone, that’s for sure.”

“It might not just be pandering, though, Momma Bear. It might be that he’s afraid the gays are going to destroy the fabric of his own marriage.”

As Tori handed Elena a plate, her sweet eyes pegged Elena’s with the unspoken question.

*

The next afternoon Elena was supposed to have a meeting with Millie, but she told Elena, “We have a serious, and I mean serious to the toenails, crisis with one of the board members, she’s electing to reduce the altar shrubs! We voted on that if you recall, and I’m not putting my hard-earned money into reducing all that beautiful altar work I had done, Elena. No sirree. So, I’m sorry to do this to you at the last minute, but I knew you’d understand. I just can’t make our fundraising meeting—but we can reschedule to Tuesday evening, we’ll squeeze it in, like everything else we do. The Good Lord give us strength Elena—how else do we manage?” Millie asked but then answered herself, “By choosing, us, Elena. We were blessed, Elena, do you understand that? Chosen by the Divine Power to do his bidding. I know you’re just married to the man, but your support of Barry’s work is just as critical—maybe not as important, certainly—but without it Barry wouldn’t have the hours he needs to do his good works. And God blessed me with the resources to get on out there and fund the good fight. Okay, glory be, sister.” Millie laughed good naturedly at her hipster talk. “We’ll sing God’s praises another day!”

Elena couldn’t get off the phone fast enough. But one thing kept rankling her long after the conversation had ended. The concept of being chosen. Chosen by anyone. Chosen for what? And wasn’t that akin to being trapped? And what was her purpose here if she
had
been chosen?

She would never be able to sever her connection to a spiritual life, a belief in the divine, but she certainly would like to exorcise the entire cultish dogma of the church to which she now found herself enslaved. She had begun to feel a purpose, lately. A new purpose. Working with Peyton, extolling the virtues of women who had made grand strides in their lives—either thd n—eithrough their wonderful role-modeling of what women could do when they put their mind to it—the Amelia Earharts, the Madame Curies, the breakthrough women like Martina Navra—whatever that tennis star’s name was—she had broken barriers and then even more by her brave stance on coming out.

The excitement Elena felt around the Women’s Glory Project injected through her like a jolt suddenly, and she knew what she felt might be akin to what Tyler felt about his pathway in life. Working on this book and being a part of something bigger, outside of herself, even exploring the softer, less “sexy” stories of mothers who adopted multiple disabled children, of teachers who gave up Harvard professorships to teach in the inner city, of female Navy Seals serving their country—all of it gave Elena the first sense of purpose she had had since she became a mother to her young baby Nash, when taking care of his needs made her feel useful. But after…after Sarah, it was still so difficult to think of her without falling apart. Elena knew it was from that point forward that she had felt so little purpose in life. As if by losing her own daughter she was nothing more than a failure. She had felt the only job left to her in life was to support Barry so he could function at maximum capacity, and to make sure Nash got his needs met too, however small or insignificant any of it was—whether it was picking up Barry’s dry cleaning or getting Nash to soccer practice on time, she had made sure she did every meaningless errand with as much attention and focus she could put onto it. To make up for it…for Sarah. Sure these things were important to running her family smoothly—and to the happiness of those she loved but what did any of that have to do with the grander scheme of things, any contribution beyond that? The Women’s Glory Project and working with Peyton made her feel special. Important. Fueled by the fire this realization ignited in her, Elena grabbed her camera and decided not to waste a moment afforded by this cancellation of Millie’s. She was going to turn around what would have been most certainly a waste of time and go out and shoot. Shoot anything and everything.

Elena wandered through the park. She shot frame after frame, and each time it felt so good to feel that spark of passion she had always had for her work. This was what she had studied, all those years ago, yes, along with the acting, which had just been an inhibited young girl’s pipedream. Even then she did not like to be in front of a camera. She was much happier behind it as she had discovered when they’d needed someone to take the still photography for one of the school plays.

Everyone had commented on how spectacular her work had been, the old black-and-white grainy prints somehow capturing the real essence of the performers. And just like back then, she felt a natural kinship to the frame, the concept of still storytelling. It energized her.

As she continued walking through the park, she wondered what Peyton would think of these shots, then shook her head.
Don’t be silly, she’s not going to be interested in these nature shots—what do they have to do with The Glory Project?
Yet, Elena knew Peyton would look at each one and comment on it, and she could see her as she did so, how the sinewy muscles in her forearm would move as she held them in her hands and at the same time how gentle and strong those hands were. She had allowed herself to come to terms with the fact that she found Peyton attractive. Actually, she found in her a handsomeness born of the most basic qualities; the sweet vulnerability that came out of Peyton even when she tried to mask it with a g he it witruff nonchalance. And that face…unlike any other face she had studied. When she photographed, she did study every aspect of a person’s composition. With Peyton’s face she hadn’t so much studied as memorized how the slight curl line formed along the side of her lip and coiled so sweetly when she smiled, the way her eyes looked hazel one moment, turning a spirited brilliant green when Peyton got excited, how the shape of Peyton’s strong square jawline met a perfect dimpled chin, the exact triumphant arch of her upper lip, those lips…she had beautiful soft…

Oh my God!
She stopped herself, suddenly realizing she had been standing in the same position taking the same picture of the riverbed the entire time she had been daydreaming about Peyton.

She shivered, turned and walked to her car.

*

Peyton sat with Wave long after Pinot Latte had closed, as they killed the last of some of Wave’s scotch.

“Why her?”

“Trust me…if I had any way for it not to be…”

“You know...” Wave pursed her lips, then smacked them heartily as she savored the scotch. “Maybe we’re lettin’ our pessimism get the better of us. I suppose everything doesn’t
have
to be so black and white. Whatya think?”

“It’s black and white.”

“Why?”

“Because when it’s not, I seem to get decimated.”

Wave mused, professorially. “Maybe there’s a gray somewhere in here— hell, there are any number of colors between black and white. Blimey, the other day I thought I’d gone daft looking at paint chips with all the endless possibilities of green. After all, me love, we do live in a rainbow world, you and I, and there should be no end of color outcome in the rainbow spectrum. Maybe you aren’t passion pink…maybe you’re...watermelon—what—could have been?”

Peyton glanced at her friend.
Seriously?

*

Elena spoke with Tyler and Lily at the same time, in his courtyard, drinking one of his latest “love wines” composed of dandelion, rose and hibiscus.

“Not bad, silk pie.” Lily squelched a grimace at the aftertaste. “But not quite as good as your last, I’m afraid. I’m telling you if you let me get a real sommelier—I did this great deal for the Vineyard Tasting in Sonoma—I could find you an expert to make this stuff sing!” Lily snapped her fingers, excited by the idea. “Yeah, and then we could start our own label—we could call it Drunk on Love or something like that—”

“Oh Lily, this wine isn’t about money—it’s about feeling.”

Lily smirked.

“Back to our girl here. And then what happened?” Tyler asked eagerly. Elena had begun to tell them of the conversation she and Peyton had had three days ago. “But the thing is this, I don’t want her to go away, or take space—”

“Of course you don’t,” Tyler sympathized.

“Come on though,” Lily interjected pragmatically, “you’ve got to give the girl a break.”

“I’m telling you, I’ve never met anyone I’ve felt so comfortable with and just plain like…I don’t know why or how, but we were meant to be.”

“Meant to be?” Lily blurted, “you mean—”

“Sweetheart,” Tyler turned to Lily, “you need to play well with others. What I think our girl is saying is she’s found a soul mate.”

*

Peyton stared at Wave. “Watermelon?”

“It’s a color. They showed me on that wand thingy. I’m just sayin’ maybe this doesn’t all have to end with a…a bloody hanging.”

*

“I don’t know what I’m saying,” Elena countered, “I thought you’d explain it to me.”

“I think it’s fairly evident.” Lily’s tone had turned brisk, businesslike.

“It’s so strange. I just feel like we need to be with each other. I know that sounds crazy—like, well, we are
supposed
to be with one another…”

“Yeah, that sounded much less crazy.” Lily’s voice was laced with irony.

“Well, ladies.” Tyler cleared his throat in theatrical suggestiveness, then said with more than a tinge of sarcasm, “As I may have mentioned before, sweetie, there are infinite kinds of soul mates. But she probably falls into one of three general kinds of soul mates: The Karmic soul mate, you know—someone you’ve got unfinished business with, like a frightened secretary and her scurrilous boss, or where there is major business that needs to be worked out from a previous life, a mentor and his student, a killer and his victim. Also the common garden variety soul mate that is an intense kinship—like two sisters, a dog and its guardian, business partners, a comedy team. The last but ultimate of soul mates is the Twin Flame—a connection of such irrefutable togetherness that no one can explain it or defy it. It is, quite simply, meant to be.”

“Meant to be. ThatMea be. Ths the ticket,” Lily concurred.

*

“Has it occurred to you that she might feel the same way?” Wave offered.

“Come on, Wave. She’s never even experimented with women in college. Never even thought about so much as a kiss, for chrissake. Even her best friend’s kissed another woman. It’s never occurred to her because she’s as straight as they get.”

“You never know. Maybe she’s never considered kissing another woman because she hasn’t met a woman she’s wanted to kiss. Up till now.”

“Don’t even—”

“I’m just saying, maybe you need to keep an open mind.” Wave took another sip. “Even if I can’t.”

*

Lily turned very serious very suddenly “So, what are you actually doing, Elena?”

Elena shook her head. “I’m not certain.”

“Just remember,” Lily stated, as she stood up to take her leave, “this isn’t a world you can just visit. It’s not fair to her.”

*

Peyton left for New York the next day. She was just about to leave her Manhattan hotel for a meeting when Elena called. She looked at the number, swore she wasn’t going to answer it, but picked it up nonetheless.

“Hey, Peyton!” Elena’s voice was full of excitement. “How are you?”

“Fine.”

“How was your trip?”

“Okay. Flight was a little rough.” She was now on the street signaling for a cab, and did not bother to soften the curtness in her tone.

Silence.

“So when are you back in town?” Elena asked, her voice a little less certain.

“Uhmm…well…I think Tuesday.”

“Oh…that’s great, actually. Tuesday Barry’s got a prayer meeting and Nash is studying for finals. I’ll be free.”

Peyton thought quickly. “Well, you know I think I’m having dinner with my agent when I get back. To go over all the contracts.”

“Oh.” Elenajustls. Elenas voice sounded small and hurt.

Peyton gritted her teeth. “Well, maybe I’ll have time before. I…I think we’ll have to play it by ear.”

Another silence.

“Peyton?” Elena asked quietly.

“Yeah.”

“Why don’t I see you when you get back...when you have the time.”

“Sure… You know, I think you forgot a pair of your earrings at the house.”

“Not for the earrings, silly.”

“Well…in case you were looking for them I mean.”

That night Elena found her mind wandering as she responded to all her Holy Church of Light e-mails. She glanced around. Everyone appeared to be in bed. She considered a moment longer, then typed in the letters l-e-s-b-i-a-n in the Google search. The search page flooded with results.