What Brings Me to You (13 page)

              I'm not sure who changed. Maybe we both did, but soon we had fundamentally different views on the family business. Basically, I couldn't stand it and you couldn't get enough of it. Our relationship wasn't a friendship, it was a business deal. You stopped talking about being together as something romantic and beautiful, instead it was something practical for HCI. “When are you going to realize that this is inevitable, Teddy? You said to me one night when we were up in your room. You’d started dressing differently and talking a lot like our parents. I couldn’t make heads or tails of it, but when you said that I thought you really liked me. That you wanted to take our relationship to the next level. I was fifteen and you threw yourself at me. I didn’t really stand a chance. In my teenaged mind I really did love you, Lace. I wanted us to be together but afterward, when you were buttoning your top and reapplying your lip gloss you leveled me with a cold stare. You stopped looking at me like you used to, but instead looked at me like looking at me like everyone else; like an opportunity. That’s when I knew that love didn’t exist.  I realized there wasn’t anyone who could be trusted, even my best friend.  I lied to myself for so long. I thought that I was avoiding the hassle of loving someone, but really I was avoiding getting hurt. By then we were sleeping together pretty regularly because it was easy and I was a boy. We were a merger of the most clinical nature, but I wasn’t allowing my heart to get tangled up in it. I kept it casual with you and with everyone by convincing myself that I didn’t really do the “love” thing since having sex was so much easier. And it was easy. Easy and empty. Painless and numb.

              Being with Charley awakened something in me I thought had died and it was amazing. I felt invigorated. Passionate about her, but also about my future. A future sans HCI. As much as we’d grown apart, I still cared for you and wanted the same thing for you, Lace. I really did.

              “What happened to us, Lace?” You were going on and on about the evening’s function but I wanted answers. I wanted to know what made you tick.

              “Excuse me?”

              “When did you become so cold? So detached?”

              “Teddy! Get on point! This is not the time to be getting all nostalgic, okay? And that was the end of that.

CHAPTER NINE

Charley

              I knew Teddy's family was wealthy, but I hadn't really given it much thought. Even after he spent God knows how much money on me I always looked at Teddy as completely disconnected from his family's wealth; he was just Teddy. Thirty minutes after we left my place, when we pulled up to his house, I couldn't make that separation anymore even if I wanted to. Teddy drove into a gated community, equipped with armed guard to get there. He wound us through the quiet, perfectly manicured and maintained, tree lined streets until we reached his home which was, of course, the biggest and flashiest. I knew that I lived in a pretty big house, but his made mine look like a shack. Two, possibly three stories, red brick facade with white bricks accenting the corners, enormous fountain in the middle of a brick paved circular drive.

              "Quit staring," he said mocking my tone when I'd first said those exact words to him. He drove around some of the very expensive cars in the driveway and into the garage where, and forgive me because I know nothing about cars, but some very expensive cars were parked. He opened my door and held my hand to let me out then took me in through the mud room, then through the kitchen where there were lots of people in white coats and chef hats. The kitchen was awe-inspiring with long cherry cabinets and shiny granite counters but the great room was like something out of a magazine. There was a wall that extended clear up to the second story clad in beautiful, no doubt, real paintings and sculptures. There was an enormous light fixture hanging high from the  ceiling,  dazzling the reflective tile floor in its crystalline glow. I heard a soft piano jazz playing but I couldn't say from where.        

              The house was already crawling with people, yet it was surprisingly quiet. Well dressed, well groomed couples were milling around with glasses of wine making polite conversation in semi-hushed tones as if they were as afraid as I was they'd disturb the beautiful furnishings and artwork. Through the twelve foot, at least, French doors that led to the pool, I saw a contingent of gentlemen standing in a circle enjoying cigars. They all had a similar stance and  similar  clothing. Same for the women, who had found a klatch near the bar: every single one of them was blond; maybe even the same shade of blond, and  all looked as if they'd come off the tennis court or from the country club, their long legs daintily crossed at the ankles.       

              I rarely thought about my skin color. It's the twenty-first century for God's sake, no one, outside my own pigheaded family, really cared. But as soon as I entered I could feel the stares. At first I assumed it was because I was standing behind Teddy, the host's son, but when the whispers started I couldn't deny I'd caused a bit of commotion. Wives were elbowing their husbands in the ribs, I assumed, to look at the little brown thing who snuck into the party. I distinctly heard someone say, "
Look at her
," and, "
Who is she?
" I was so grateful to Nancy for choosing a dress with buttons near the collar so I could hide the mess of hives that was developing on my chest. As big as the room was, I was beginning to feel claustrophobic and breathy, when I felt his hand envelop mine. I looked up into his pale blue eyes, we were nose to nose in the center of the great room and all conversation seemed to cease.       

              "You look so beautiful, Charley," he said and planted a sweet kiss on my lips.

              "Don't do that, Teddy. Everyone is staring at us."

              "I know. They’re all thinking the same thing; you’re stunning. The husbands all want you and their wives all to look like you. That's how beautiful you are, baby. Now, stop panicking. You're my guest. Everything will be fine," he placed another quick peck on my cheek. His little pep talk seemed to calm my nerves for a moment. We stood there just enjoying the nearness of each other. Teddy would whisper little jokes in my ear to calm me down which worked when I saw a gorgeous blond woman and a tall brunette man in an embrace too similar to the one Teddy held me in at the mall to be coincidence. His lips were pressed to her forehead and his hands ran reassuringly up and down the sides of her arms. She was breathing raggedly but seemed to be calming. The woman opened her eyes, saw me across the room and smiled.       

              "Teddy!" she trilled as she rushed toward him.

              “Mom,” he said almost sheepishly. She gave him a warm hug and placed her diamond clad hand briefly, and ever so gently on his cheek like she hadn’t seen him in ages but I could tell right away it wasn’t for show or anything. I marveled at how totally natural it was for her to do this and how Teddy didn’t flinch when she did. The sweetness of the whole exchange tightened my chest and made me want to cry. I may have if it weren’t in her presence, and what a presence it was. She was truly was a beautiful woman, just like he said. She had the same amber-blond colored hair as Teddy pulled off her face in a loose ponytail to show off the same ice blue eyes. She was thin, but not overly so, which was a testament to her genes. Clearly she was not a serial dieter like my mother or some of the other guests of this party. She wore a trim white cocktail dress with cap sleeves a tasteful keyhole at the neckline. She also had little crinkles around her eyes from smiling and spoke like she was talking to you and not
at
you which made her stand out from everyone else at the party. She wasn’t plastic, she was real and I respected her for being that way while living in the world of phony her kind of wealth could attract. I could understand right away why Teddy respected her so much. I did too.        

              "Hey mom," he muttered and for twenty-three he definitely sounded like a teenager when he did. His posture changed and he ran his free hand, the one not holding mine, through his hair.       

              "Well don't just stand there, son," and she turned sharply to me with an ingratiating smile. "I want to meet this lovely young lady."

              I held my free hand out to her in a handshake. I remembered what I learned from my guidance counselor: firm grip, eye contact. "Charley. Pleasure to meet you, ma'am."

              "I like her already, Teddy," she said, "but no ma'am. Please, call me Brooke."

              "Yes ma'am -I mean Brooke," and she was laughing a smooth, hearty, unrehearsed laugh. I liked her too.

              "Let me look at you," and she made me break my hold on Teddy's hand so she could grip both of mine and hold me an arm’s length away. There was something so classically beautiful about this woman and even though she was Teddy's mom, looked and acted so young. So vibrant. Her energy was contagious and I found myself smiling. "Teddy, you've really outdone yourself this time.

              "Mom!"

              "Honey,” she said to me, “you are, by far, the prettiest girl my son has ever brought home."

              "Mom!" I had to smile at this exchange and, a little at myself because she obviously had to know Lacey and just, in a roundabout way, said I was prettier. My inner jealous bitch did a little happy dance.

              "I want to know all about you, but now I need to attend to some errant hors d'oveures and stop the servers from getting blow jobs in the bathroom. God, it used to be they’d just steal the silver. What ever happened to the good old days. Pardon me." She winked then turned and glided away effortlessly. I didn’t know whether to laugh or be appalled at her language so I stood motionless watching her sashay into the kitchen.

              Teddy gave my hand two quick reassuring pumps which I took to mean I made a good first impression. Just as I was going to breathe a sigh of relief, and ask if his mother really just used the phrase “blow job” when she came back. "Oh and Teddy? Please give her whatever she wants," and she smiled down at me.

              "Already done, mom." Something had obviously passed between them but I didn't want to be rude and ask.       

              "Ah, of course," she said knowingly. "But sweetie, I don't see a drink in her hand. Get this girl some wine!" I didn't think it was a good time to argue about my age. So I tried to cover.

              "Water is fine for me," I cut in. Teddy seemed to get the hint from his mother and sauntered to the catered bar set up by the stairs, careful to keep his eyes on me and his mother the whole way.

              "Sweetie," she cooed at me and curled her fingers around my shoulder, "you make sure he gives you anything you want," then gave me the most  conspiratorial  wink and rushed away.

              Realizing I was alone in the great room and beginning to garner more stares, I made my way, as quickly as possible, over to Teddy before I started losing my grip. He was holding a bottle of water and a bottle of beer next to the little bar, standing somewhat in shadow. It struck me then, that he was hiding. His sullen teenage boy act wasn’t really an act, but he was truly uncomfortable. Mr. Charismatic didn’t really interact with anyone other than his mother. I was so strung out on anxiety and emotions that I only noticed this passively and focused more on fighting the urge to grab that beer and chug the whole thing to calm myself. Somehow, I didn't think that would be appropriate behavior. Semi-alone, as the rest of the party was over at the other end of the room, Teddy grazed his fingers over my cheek and  whispered seductively in my ear:  "Do you want to see my room?"       

              Teddy led me up the stairs and we passed six doors, I counted, before turning down a separate hallway with four doors, I was still counting, before we reached his room. I expected design in his room, just like the rest of the house, similar even to my house. I assumed it would be your standard geometric shapes and muted color palette. When he opened the door and flipped on the light I was pleasantly surprised.       

              "Wow," I breathed. It looked like a museum. Not the same kind of museum as downstairs, but like one of those coffee shops that play new world music. There was a sitar in the corner of the room for God's sake! There were Eastern looking fabrics hanging from two walls, a lithograph poster with writing that was not Latin based. Greek maybe? Or was it Russian... There was a frosted glass sculpture of head of some other type of God on his dresser. And pictures. All over were framed photographs of him in exotic places. He looked like one of those tour guides on travel shows. His facial hair grown out to accentuate his square jaw, a bandana tied around his throat. It was like I was looking at a different person. A distorted reflection of a reflection of the Teddy I knew. There was a large black and white framed photo of the Great Wall of China hanging over his bed. I walked instinctively toward it because, even in black and white, it was a stunning photo. There was another on his night stand so I sat on his bed and picked up the photo. The foreground was a minaret in shadow, the background was the most vibrant orange sunset I'd ever seen.       

              He sat down next to me and gently took the photo from my hands then, studied it reflectively. "This was taken in Turkey."

              "It's beautiful."

              "I'll take you there one day," he said softly and reached over me to put the photo back to hold my hand, which normally would've made me melt but I was too busy staring around the room in wonder. In every corner, on every wall and surface there was a trinket from another exotic place. Suddenly I was intimidated by him. Something else I'd separated from Teddy was his age. He said he was in grad school and told me he was twenty-three but, until that very moment, it had just been a number. Now, I felt the distance of experience between us. I felt, suddenly, like a little fish in an enormous pond.
No wonder he was afraid to touch you, Charley, you idiot! You're just a baby to him.       
       

              "What?" he asked  tentatively. I must have been making a face and I didn't want to talk to him about it then. It wasn't the right time.

              "Nothing it's just...this isn't at all what I expected."

              "Oh?"       

              "No I mean...What is all this?"

              "I spent quite a bit of time abroad. That's why it's taken me so long to finish school."

              "Wow. I mean, when you said you wanted to travel...it didn't occur to me that you already are. Well-traveled."

              "I'd love to do it full time, but I have no idea how to make that happen."

              "I do."

              "You do?"

              "Were you serious about being a doctor?"

              "I mean...yes..."

              "Because I figure since you've already got a degree in business, you've got half your requirement for pre-med. You could spend this next semester and one more getting the rest. You do well on your MCAT and you'll get in any med school you want. Have you heard of MSF?" He shook his head. "Well, here we refer to it as 'Doctors Without Borders' but it's got a French name. They require that, after your residency of course, you have at least two years of experience in your field. If you specialize in infectious disease like HIV or TB for two years and then...wait, do you speak French?"

              "Oui."

              "Spanish?"