Sugar Baby

by Robin Roseau

  Once they were gone, Oma sat down across from me, and we went over everything. As things go, I suppose it wasn’t a huge estate. There weren’t millions of dollars or anything like that. But to someone my age, it seemed like a lot.

  I turned around and looked at the door. “Lynette is going to sue me.”

  “I know right now, that’s not what you want,” Oma said. “But legally, she doesn’t have a foot to stand on.”

  “You saw how they all looked at me. I don’t understand it. Lynette has never liked me, but we’ve held a truce for a year.”

  “Could they know how you and Cassidy first met?”

  “I don’t see how. I’m pretty sure if they’ve known, it would have come out earlier than this. Does that matter?”

  “Not legally, no.”

  * * * *

  Lynette found a lawyer to file a case challenging the will. Various legal wrangling was attempted. I’m going to skip over most of that, as there are really only three things that really matter, all of which happened in front of the judge, a stunning African-American woman named Judge Sallie Gaines.

  It was clear the judge hadn’t been impressed so far, and she was about to rule on an attempt to dismiss the case. That was when Lynette stood up and pointed at me. “She’s a prostitute!”

  On the bench, the judge froze, then looked over her glasses at Lynette. Lynette’s lawyer was trying to get her to sit down and shut up, but she wasn’t having it. “That little hussy is a prostitute. She got paid to seduce my sister.”

  Oma whispered to me and said, “Let me handle this.” I simply nodded and looked up at the judge.

  “That’s an interesting accusation. Counselor, do you think perhaps you should advise your client of the relevant slander laws, and while you’re at it, remind her this isn’t an episode of Judge Judy?”

  The lawyer spoke in hushed tones to Lynette. For her part, Lynette said, “But… but… but she’s a whore!” I didn’t even look at her. Oma spoke quietly to me, and I sat quietly.

  Finally, Lynette sat down. The judge turned to Oma and raised an eyebrow. Oma shrugged and said, “The accusation is without merit.”

  “It is not!” Lynette said, jumping to her feet again.

  Oma ignored her. “Cassidy Hart and Astrid Ann Martin Graves Hart had been in a three-year relationship by the time they were legally married. They were both deeply in love.”

  “Bullshit!” Lynette yelled. “Whores don’t love their Johns.”

  Oma turned to face Lynette and her lawyer. “Disregarding how the honorable judge feels about that sort of behavior, the only defense of such a statement is the truth. As I can disprove those statements beyond all doubt, if your client doesn’t wish to pay for a slander defense, maybe she should stop making that accusation.”

  “You can put a pretty term on it if you want, but sugar baby is just another word for whore!”

  * * * *

  Later, in private, I said to Oma simply, “Well, now we know why they all hate me.”

  “Do you have any idea how they discovered that. I know Cassidy didn’t tell them.”

  I told her about Lynette being in the house and looking through the papers. I admitted I had no idea how long she’d been there, but the stack she’d had when I found her hadn’t included anything incriminating.

  * * * *

  We met again. Cherlyn came with me this time and sat in the front row, immediately behind me. Lila sat beside Lynette.

  Lynette presented her proof. Yes, she’d taken papers from the house. There was more legal wrangling. And then the judge turned to Oma.

  “Your honor, we would like Cassidy Hart to explain the nature of her relationship with Astrid Hart.”

  “How is she going to do that?” Lynette muttered. “She’s dead.”

  “Video of course,” Oma said.

  There was fumbling as the court personnel loaded the video. And then Cassidy’s image appeared on the screen. She was seated at a conference table, I thought perhaps at Oma’s law office, and she had papers before her. My breath caught, and my eyes began to water.

  I’d seen the video, but that didn’t make this showing any easier.

  Cassidy looked into the camera and smiled for a moment, but then the smile faded. “Hello, Darling,” she said. “I’m sorry you’re going through this.” Then she looked away a little, looking around the room. “By the time anyone is seeing this, I’m dead and buried, and the only reason to watch this video is because someone has chosen to contest my will. The most likely person is my sister, although she may have riled up Mom. If I am guessing wrong, I’m sorry, Lynette.”

  She turned back to the camera. “I’m going to talk about three things. In order, I am going to talk about my sister. I’m going to talk about Astrid, the woman I love. And I’m going to talk about my estate.”

  She sipped from a glass of water. “I’m sick. Sometime in the next two years, I am going to die. I’ve known this for a while. Astrid didn’t. If we’re all here today, it’s because she stayed with me through all of this… this shit. I hope that doesn’t offend you, your honor.” She smiled briefly at that.

  “First, my sister. Lynette, I love you, but you’re a bitch. I cannot recall a single time you supported one of my decisions. For my entire life, you’ve told me everything I’ve done is wrong, and we’re here today because yet again, you think you’re right and I’m wrong. Well, I apologize again, Your Honor, but Lynette, fuck you. I love you, but I do not like you, and I do not like the way you treat me. You are the reason I hid Astrid from the family for so long, because I knew you would be twice as judgmental about our relationship as you have about every other decision I’ve ever made.

  “When I was growing up, you were the older sister with some responsibility for me. And you were the one who told me everything I did was wrong. I dressed wrong. I brushed my teeth wrong. I chewed too loudly. When I was in junior high, you found a paper I had written, and you told me how stupid it was, and told me I was going to get a shitty grade with work like that. Well, the teacher disagreed with you.

  “Later, when you found out I preferred women, wow! Was I wrong! How could I do that to Mom and Dad? How could I embarrass the family? How could I not realize it was just a phase, but good girls don’t act that way. Blah, blah, blah.”

  She drank from her water, and then I watched as she slowly calmed down, although not entirely. “And now we’re here, because yet again, I’ve made a series of decisions that offend you. And because you don’t approve of those decisions, you also think you have a right to my money. Well, fuck you, Lynette. You didn’t approve of the college I picked or the classes I took or the career I pursued. You told me what a crappy place I’d chosen to work for. I could go on, but in short, you didn’t do one thing to actually help me earn that money, and you aren’t owed one thin dime.”

  She shook her head and took another moment before she said, “If you had just left alone, you wouldn't have heard any of that.” She shook her head once more then turned to the right. From the light on her face, I thought she might be looking out a window.

  Finally she turned back and took several deep breaths. Then she looked down at the papers in front of her before picking one up, a photograph of me, one of the photos Maggie had taken for the web site. She looked at it for a minute then smiled and turned it around. “This was my first image of Astrid, a photograph posted on the web. Astrid and I met online, just like many, many people do these days. But we didn’t meet via eHarmony, Match, or any site you’ve probably heard of. We met through a site called Gentle Affection.”

  She smiled again. “Let me tell you about our first date. I was an ass. You see? I was making a stupid mistake. I was equating sugar baby with prostitute. I was deeply focused on what the evening would cost me. I don’t know how many times Astrid told me ‘nothing’.” She paused. “That’s not quite right. She told me I’d already paid. I’d bought her dinner. I wasn’t listening, or didn’t believe her, or wanted things from her I
thought I’d have to pay for. Finally she’d had it. She told me if I wasn’t interested in a relationship with her, I should please take her home, but if that was asking too much, I could drop her off somewhere she could safely call an Uber.”

  She shook her head again. “I turned around. We were halfway to campus when she told me about her situation. Her parents had disowned her for being gay. She had become a sugar baby so she could stay in school, and she told me that unless I could propose another plan that kept her in school, I could take my judgment and shove it. She also told me if I wasn’t interested in a relationship with her, she wasn’t interested in me.”

  She looked down at the photograph, then again turned it to the camera. “She was young, intelligent, and utterly captivating. I was old, deeply aware of my mortality, and I wanted her. Oh, did I want her. Eventually, nearly back to her dorm, I pull over, apologized, and asked if I could take her somewhere to talk.” She waved the photograph. “At that point, yes, lust and desire were involved. So was shame. But there was something else as well. I looked at this girl – she might be a woman, but to me, she’s also a girl – and I realized that I could help her, at least a little, and get something I wanted in exchange.”

  She turned the photograph and looked at it for a while, then caressed my image with two fingers. Then she looked back at the camera. “I took her home. We talked. When I started this, I thought I’d have a night of fun, and if I enjoyed it, maybe a few weeks of fun. By the time I took her home, in my mind I had extended that to a few months of fun. Astrid and I came to an arrangement. We established a relationship. We shared meals and attended events. And yes, we shared of each other. And along the way, I fell in love, and so did she.”

  Cassidy talked for another fifteen minutes, talking about our shared life. And then the screen faded to black for a moment. Then she was back, dressed differently, but back in the conference room. She looked tired.

  She talked for a minute about being sick. That was when I began crying in earnest. She talked about how I was helping to take care of her. The video was from the beginning of when she was beginning to look sick. It was going to get worse.

  There was a new video, each of them fairly short, each one month after the other. In each, she talked about the things we’d done recently, and the things I’d been doing to take care of her.

  And she looked sicker and sicker.

  The last two were at home in her bed. Oma paused the video and said, “This next part is from my last visit with Cassidy. It’s three weeks before her death.”

  “Hello, Darling,” Cassidy said, her voice little more than a whisper. “I’m so sorry for doing this to you. Thank you for being here with me. I didn’t want to die alone, and I know I won’t. I know you’ll mourn me, but not forever, Darling. You’re young, and it would break my heart if you don’t live your life. Find new love. Find joy. If I’m wrong about what happens next, then understand I’ll be watching, and every time you laugh, I’ll laugh with you. And tell Maggie, once the time is right, to find some help and make sure you get thoroughly tickled.”

  She asked for water. Oma appeared on the screen, and she held Cassidy’s water for her while she drank through the straw. Then she nodded. Oma set the water away and disappeared again. Cassidy looked back at the camera. “To anyone watching, this is simple. I love my wife. She loves me. How we originally met is irrelevant.” Then she lifted her hand and blew a kiss. “I love you, Astrid.”

  The image faded, and Oma paused the video. No one spoke. I fought to bring myself under control.

  And then Lynette said, “She sure does cry prettily.”

  I’d had it. I stormed to my feet and turned to face her. I shoved a finger towards the screen. “That was your sister!” I screamed. “We just watched your sister getting sicker and sicker, and the only emotion you show is contempt for me? Well, I’d rather be an emotional basket case than a cold-hearted bitch like you.”

  Then I remembered where we were. I dropped my head and muttered, “I’m sorry, Your Honor.”

  “Why don’t we take a short recess?” she said, her voice cracking. “Fifteen minutes.”

  * * * *

  There was a short portion of video remaining. It actually backed up in time to when Cassidy was healthy. She said simply, “Astrid is my wife, and she has stayed with me through the worst. My will couldn’t be simpler.” She spoke for another minute, ending with one more, “I love you.”

  And then the screen went black for the final time.

  Five minutes later, the judge said, “I will present my ruling in the morning, ten AM.” She banged her gavel.

  * * * *

  We gathered the next day. I ignored Cassidy’s family. Oma physically shielded me from them, which helped.

  We all stood. The judge came in. She sat and invited us to sit. Then she looked at me. “Ms. Hart. I am sorry for your loss,” she said kindly.

  “Thank you, Your Honor,” I said.

  “My judgment is simple,” she said in a firm voice. “The will stands.” She banged her gavel. “Congratulations, Ms. Hart.”

  “Thank you, Your Honor,” was all I said.

  But then Oma was on her feet. “Your Honor, would you grant a restraining order? She has already invaded my client’s home once and removed property that didn’t belong to her. Furthermore, she has repeatedly slandered my client, and frankly, I’m tired of it.”

  “As am I,” said the judge.

  And that was that.

  Friends

  Time passed. I remained living in the home Cassidy shared with me. At least as I write these words, I haven’t heard a single peep from a single member of Cassidy’s family, and I don’t expect I ever will.

  That’s a pity.

  I did send Lila a note. While going through Cassidy’s things, I’d found boxes of photographs taken over a lifetime, and I didn’t know if anyone from her family would want copies. She never responded. I wasn’t all that surprised.

  I did hear from a member of my extended family. Sweet Cousin Susan called me. I didn’t recognize the number and simply answered, “Hello.”

  “Hey,” she said. “Um. This is Susan. Your cousin.”

  I turned cold inside. “Hey,” I said. I considered simply hanging up, but if she was calling to tell me someone had died or something, I thought perhaps I’d want to know.

  “How have you been?”

  “Fine.”

  “Me, too,” she said. I hadn’t asked. “Um. It’s been a while.”

  “Yep.”

  “Are you really fine?”

  “Peachy, actually,” I said. “What do you want, Susan?”

  “I was kinda wondering if we could get together.”

  “Why would you want to do that?” What I really was asking was why would I want to.

  “Because we’re cousins.”

  “With family like you,” I replied, my tone caustic, “Who needs enemies?”

  “That’s kind of harsh.”

  “Is it as harsh as stabbing someone in the back and then watching as she’s kicked out of the house and into the snow, the last part literally? How are my god-fearing parents, by the way? I haven’t heard a word from anyone in four and a half years.”

  “Everyone’s fine,” she said. “It wasn’t like that.”

  “It wasn’t like that?” I asked. “I was disowned. Not a single person spoke one kind word about me. You certainly didn’t. Do you know the college wasn’t sufficiently impressed with my reason for needing far more help than they’d previously been offering?”

  “It wasn’t that bad. Your phone number still works.”

  “Did you know you can get paid to donate blood? I suppose it’s not really a donation at that point. It’s really selling a portion of your body, one pint at a time. What do you really want, Susan? Absolution? Go find that in church. God forgives sinners. Oh, wait, unless the sin is to love a woman. That, apparently, is an abomination, and the only acceptable response is to disown someone that utter
ly heinous. You know, I could have murdered someone, and I think they would have stood by me. But love women, and I’m out the door to stand in the snow. Unless you’re calling to tell me someone is dying, I don’t know what else we have to talk about.”

  “Um. No one’s dying,” she said.

  “Well then.” And I hung up on her. I don’t imagine she’ll call again.

  * * * *

  “Invite me to dinner.”

  “Would you like to come to dinner, Maggie?”

  “I’d love to come,” she said. “Could I bring someone with me?”

  “Ooh,” I replied. “Someone special?”

  “Very special.”

  “Someone whose bed you’re sharing?”

  “Maybe.”

  “And you’re just telling me now?”

  “I feel kind of guilty about that, actually.”

  “How long have you been dating?”

  “Um.”

  “So, a long time.”

  “Yeah.”

  “God, I must be clueless.”

  “I’ve been hiding it from you,” she admitted. “And made Mom promise not to bring it up.”

  I was a little hurt by that. “Why? If he’s good enough for Cherlyn, do you think I’m going to judge?”

  “I wasn’t afraid of you judging, Astrid.”

  “I thought we shared everything.”

  “I’m sharing now.”

  “Maggie, how long have you been dating him?”

  “We had our first official date while you were on your honeymoon.”

  “And you didn’t tell me?” I screeched.

  “At first, I didn’t want to jinx it. Then…”

  “Then Cassidy got sick,” I said, my tone lowering.

  “Yeah.”

  I thought about that for a minute. “So, tonight we meet?”

  “Sort of,” she said.

  “Sort of?”

  “Yeah. Sort of. So. What time?”

  “Six?”

  “We’ll be there.”

  * * * *

  I spent hours cooking, but I wasn’t going to look like a lunatic when I met Maggie’s boyfriend, so I got things settled and then gave myself time to get ready. By the time I was done, I thought I looked okay. I didn’t go for great. But okay was good.