What Brings Me to You (16 page)

              "I don't know what game you're playing with that boy," she hissed, "but it needs to end. Tonight." All I could do was blink. 
What is she talking about? 
I didn't really have to wait to find out. Seemingly without taking a breath she continued: "Teddy is spoken for. You?" and she looked me up and down as if she were going to spit on me, "You're nothing but a diversion and a trashy one at that. I don't know what he's thinking bringing you out tonight, but you don't belong here. Even you've got to see that."

              I found my voice just enough to say: "How dare you. You don't know anything about my relationship."

              "Oh," she sneered, "I know plenty. I know girls like you are all the same. Come sniffing around, think you've hit the mother lode; well you haven't because he'll never pick you over Lacey. I've known that boy since the day he was born. You're nothing special. He can dress you up in fancy clothes, but I see you. We all do. It's a costume. You don't fit into this world. You think he loves you?
Please
, you're a pet project. Charity case. Something to keep his mind occupied while he wanders around lost in his life. When he comes around, which will be
very
      soon, he'll drop you. The longer he's with you, the more he's going to be derailed and we can't have that," she let go of my hands and leaned back only slightly more composed. "He needs to get back on course with his 
real
responsibilities
. So if you care about him at all, you'll see to it that it ends tonight. Do we have an understanding?"

              "And if I don't?"

              "You’re a smart girl. Don’t kid yourself. It may be weeks, it may be months, but he'll scrape you off just like all of the previous flavors of the week. He'll realize how out of your element this life is. How
incompatible
you are in the grand scheme of things and he'll trade up anyway. Why delay the inevitable?"

              "What makes you so sure?"

              "I know my boy and I know my daughter. Trust me little girl, you don't stand a chance. You don't belong here and you most certainly don't belong with Gunther Holmes." Claire turned on her heel and headed back to the party. I had no choice but to follow her, I wouldn't be able to find my way back alone but that left me very little time to pull myself together.     

Returning to the table I didn't get as much attention as leaving because Shelly had most of the guests hanging on story of how she and Mickey met. Apparently it was sweet and romantic and I missed most of it. The story was coming to an end when I regained my seat next to Teddy. I plastered a smile on my face which seemed to work because Teddy gave my thigh a quick squeeze under the table. In order to make him believe nothing was wrong I didn't remove my leg from his hand, though I really, really wanted to.     

              I was in such a state of shock over what had transpired and over the fact that, even after she'd said everything she wanted to, she was still glaring at me from across the table. I was doing my best to hold it together but failing miserably. I'd completely lost my appetite and even though it looked like it would be the best meal I'd ever have, I couldn't get myself to eat it. I was forcing myself not to look like I'd been socked in the gut when I felt Teddy squeeze my leg again. When I looked up at him his brow was knitted together in silent question and he was gesturing to his mother.

              "I'm sorry, ma'am, what was that?"

              "I said is there something wrong with your fillet? Is it too tough? We can get you another..."

              "No ma'am, everything is superb." It was only a half lie. Everything up until I'd been verbally accosted was superb but the look of that fillet mignon was turning my stomach.  “I’m just not used to such rich food.”   

              "Alright," though she didn't seem convinced. "So Charley, tell us about yourself." She placed her elbows on the table and laced her hands together underneath her chin.

              "There isn't much to tell," which was a whole lie. There was a lot, but nothing that these people cared to know. I just needed to get through the rest of this dinner as invisibly as possible and Brooke Holmes was not making it easy.

              "I see you're going to make this difficult on me," she stated with an air of lightness. "That's okay, I enjoy a challenge. So, Charley, is that your given name?"

              "No ma'am, it's short for Charlotte," I mumbled.     

              "I'm sorry, did she say 
harlot
," Claire had piped up. Decided to get some more licks in, I suppose. Little did she know that was the reason I preferred to go by Charley. Charlotte rhymes with harlot was a daily, painful reminder of how I came into the world.

              "Claire," Brooke warned then smiled widely at the party and gaily announced, "that's it, honey, Claire is cut off!" which      elicited      a smile from those around us and a huge guffaw from Mr. Holmes. He, as if practiced, got up from his seat and in four quick strides was behind Claire taking her glass and setting it at the end of the table near his wife. He placed an easy hand on Brooke's shoulder and she placed one on his and smiled in my direction.

              "Charlotte is a beautiful name," she said warmly. I would've accepted that warmth as just that, but I kept hearing Claire's biting message from earlier, her words playing on every insecurity I had about Teddy and I. 
You don't belong; you've got to see that.
  And I did see it. It was so obvious that I didn't belong. Yes, I was in a pretty dress and had new shoes but underneath I was still me and I would never fit in here. I would never be good enough for designer clothes, lavish parties, high end vehicles. I would never be good enough for Teddy and so ultimately, it didn't matter that he thought he loved me. There would be no future with Teddy. I was his 
charity case.
He would, as Claire put it, eventually see that we weren't compatible and move on. 
Trade up
. He was just slumming it with me because he was lost; he'd just told me as much. That realization is what freed me. It freed me to be myself that night.           

              "I prefer Charley," I said as respectfully as I could.     

              "So,
Charley
" Claire taunted, "what diet are you on?"

              "Pardon?"

              "What diet are you on that you can't have a glass of wine?" She lazily pointed to my, now empty, water glass. "Whatever it is,
clearly
it’s working," she scoffed. I sat up straighter in my chair.

              "Claire," Brooke said in an even firmer tone but it was as if she hadn't heard.

              "Tell us 
Charley
, what do your parents do?" I winced. I did not want to talk about this but now, it seemed, the entire table was staring at me. I silently begged Teddy to cut in but he did nothing, either because he forgot what a fucked up situation I dealt with at home or he just didn't think it was a big enough deal to be worried about in this crowd. Either reason infuriated me which was all the fuel I needed after stewing over Claire's words. I jerked my leg from underneath Teddy's hand and sat up straight.     

              "My mother stays at home."

              "And you father?"

              "He's a trumpet player at the Sinatra Bar downtown. Perhaps you've seen him?"

              "Hmm...is he an African American gentleman?" there was a note of achievement in her voice, like she'd just discovered I have a hydroponic pot garden in my bra.     

              "Yep, that's the one."

              "Must be a damn fine trumpet player if he can afford to keep your mother at home."

              "We don't live with him. We live with her husband."

              "And what does 
he
  do?"

              "He's a lawyer for a pretty large corporation."
              At this Mr. Holmes piped in, "Which corporation? Maybe I know him."

              "Yours, sir."

              "Pardon?" said Brooke.

              "He works for yours sir, so I'd hope that you knew him."

              "I don't understand..." said Mrs. Holmes.

              "My mother is Iris Feinman. She's married to Paul Feinman, head of HCI Legal."

*****

              I should say that I regretted it instantly, but I didn't. Claire's face paled and I think Lacey dropped her fork on the floor and I felt triumphant. Andy and Mr. Holmes exchanged a look -another one of those silent conversations- for a beat and then Andy turned to me.

              "I don't understand," said Andy in that smooth, intoxicating voice, "I didn't know Paul had a daughter."

              "He doesn't. Iris is my mother."

              "But he's been over here several times with the boys...why didn't you ever come," Mr. Holmes asked, genuinely concerned.

              "You'll have to ask him that."

              "Dessert!" Cried Brooke realizing we were treading some very thin ice.  Conversation around the rest of the table picked back up, but Andy leveled me with a strange look.    

              "You didn't go to Hawaii?" he asked. Obviously I didn't if I was sitting in front of him but he was still visibly stunned so I don't think he knew that he'd said it out loud.

              "No sir."

              "You know your father and I work very closely," Andy said and leaned far on the table to get as close to me as possible. "He always talks about the boys, but he never...I mean...I had no idea..."

              "He's not my father. And if it's any consolation, I never heard of you either," I guess trying to joke didn't really work.     

              "Damn good guy, that Paul," boomed Mr. Holmes from his end of the table clearly oblivious to the bomb that had just been dropped and to the conversation I was having with Andy. "Saved our asses a few times, eh, Andy?" Andy seemed to straighten and beamed down the table at Mr. Holmes effectively ending our conversation.

              "Got that right. Remember Beijing?" and he and several of the other men at the table, including Mr. Holmes, started to laugh.

              "Your dad had to have told you about that one, Charley! It was incredible he --"      

              "He's not my dad," I snapped. I took it Mr. Holmes was not accustomed to not finishing a thought because he looked at me, eyes blazing, then at Teddy. Before I could get into too much more trouble the dessert came out -some sort of chocolate thing but my appetite hadn't returned.      

              The guests were all making their way out. Lacey, Claire and Andy had left before everyone else, which, judging from Brooke's reaction was very rare. As they were leaving Andy gave me a surreptitious squeeze of my hand. There was no eye contact and I had no idea what it meant but it made me feel good anyway. Shuffling out the door I extended my hand to Mr. And Mrs. Holmes and thanked them for their hospitality.      

              "Thank you so much for having me. Brooke you have a lovely home." She smiled again at me but this time it didn't touch her eyes. It wasn't the warm, unrehearsed look she'd given me earlier. This one was a practiced, well-worn mask.      

              "It was a pleasure, Charley," Mr. Holmes boomed and he shook my hand so vigorously my entire right side shook. "Have to tell Paul to bring you up next time."

              "Thank you sir but I don't think that will be necessary."

Teddy had gone totally silent after my little show. The small part of me that couldn't blame him was overruled by the much larger part of me that was pissed at him. He led me in cold silence to his car, didn't open the door for me and we drove off, back to my, as he referred to it, hovel.

*****

              "So are we going to talk about this, or what?" I had jumped out of the car as soon as we hit the driveway. I was prepared to run in the house and then think about what to do about Teddy. Claire's words, what I'd said, Andy's reaction, Teddy's non-reaction were all swimming intermingled in my mind and I needed to be alone to cut through it all. I wasn't decided that I would do what Claire demanded. Who was she to me to demand that anyway? Further, who the hell was she to Teddy? Even if she was his mother, who she most certainly was not, he was a twenty-three year old world traveler. That meant, to me, he could do whatever he wanted, even if it meant slumming it with a half-black girl.     

              Still, I couldn't deny the truth in Claire's words. They were biting and full of a kind of hate I hadn't ever experienced outside of my house, but she had a point. It was more than obvious Teddy and I came from different worlds. It didn't matter that I grew up living with a man in the same tax bracket at the Holmes'. What mattered was
I
  was not part of that world. Not to mention my color and my hair...That shit mattered to people like the Holmes' and their friends. The fact that a small, but growing, part of me agreed with Claire, even after Teddy professed his love for me, didn't sit right.
Why didn't he stand up for me at that dinner? Why did he let her talk to me like that in front of everyone?
He claimed he loved me and, in my heart, I knew that I loved him, though I couldn't bring myself to say it. I wanted to believe he'd let me hang out to dry because he trusted I could handle myself, which I could. But why should I have had to if I had a man, who claimed he loved me, sitting right there? Why couldn't he cushion the blows? I needed time, I needed space but Teddy wasn't having it. He spoke again and when I turned from the door to look at him he didn't look lovingly at me. He looked pissed.