by Claire Adams
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chloe
It was exciting, staying here with Graham, yet there was a part of me that felt the whole thing was unreal. I was living with the guy I was having sex with. I didn’t know what was going to happen at the end of the summer; if my parents refused to pay my tuition, I wouldn’t be able to return to school. At least not this semester, and though I didn’t want to admit it, I didn’t know how I’d go about raising the funds in order to go back.
“I’m really not sure what I’m going to do if summer ends and my parents still haven’t talked to me,” I told Graham. We were having another lazy morning in bed, which had quickly become one of my favorite things.
“You’ve still got some time before you have to really worry about that,” he said.
“I know. And chances are, we’ll probably get all this resolved by then, anyway. But what if we don’t?”
“You can always stay here. Come work for me—you can be the counter girl.” He grinned. “I know that’s not your lifelong ambition, of course.”
“I’m starting to wonder what my lifelong ambition is. Maybe it is working the counter at a tattoo shop. My parents would be mortified.”
“That could be your tactic, then. You could threaten them with that if they didn’t pay for your tuition.”
I knew, though, that there were plenty of students who didn’t have help from their parents the way I did, either because their parents didn’t want to or they just didn’t have the money. It would be pathetic if I didn’t finish my final year of school just because my parents weren’t going to foot the bill.
“I’ll figure something out,” I said. “Right now I just need to focus on my sculpture.”
“Yeah, that art opening is coming up, isn’t it?” He rolled onto his back and stretched. “Holy hell, I could stay here in this bed all day with you. If I don’t get up now, I’m afraid that I might.”
I traced my fingers across the tight muscles of his abdomen. “I certainly wouldn’t mind that. But I should probably get up, too.”
We both reluctantly got up. While he made coffee, I scrambled a few eggs and put some bread in the toaster. When it was ready, we sat at the table and ate, and I couldn’t help but feel like I was actually living like an adult. It felt different than how I did when I was at my apartment; I almost felt more at home here, even though this wasn’t really my home either. It was hard to explain, other than it seemed like being with Graham, and being here, was the right thing to do.
After we finished eating, he got ready to leave for work. “I’ll see you later on,” he said, giving me a kiss. He pulled back and looked into my eyes, a smile spreading across his face. “I can’t believe how domestic this all is. But I like it.”
I kissed him again, longer this time. “I like it, too.”
After he left, I got my stuff together and went down to the art center. Now more than ever, the idea I had seemed to be pertinent, and I worked for several hours straight without taking a break. Would my parents even bother coming to the opening? At this point, and if things didn’t change, it seemed unlikely.
I decided to take a break and go out and get some lunch, since I hadn’t brought any food with me. I went back to Lorraine’s, because, despite what my mother thought, the food there was quite good, and I liked the atmosphere.
It was crowded when I got there, so instead of waiting for a table, I went over to the bar and sat down. I flipped through the menu and then looked at the big chalkboard on the far wall, stating the specials. It was Monday, and the Monday lunch special was a quiche Lorraine, which sounded good, so I ordered that, along with an orange juice and a coffee.
I’d just taken my first bite of quiche when I heard someone say my name. I turned and saw a woman I didn’t recognize at first. She was wearing a tight black tank top and cut-offs, just like I was.
“Chloe!” she said, sliding onto the empty stool next to me. She looked at my outfit. “Hey, we’re twins!”
It was Graham’s mother. For one panicked second, I couldn’t remember her name, but then it came to me. “Hi, Janice,” I said.
“Are you here with my son?” She swiveled around on the stool, craning her neck, surveying the whole restaurant. “I don’t see him.”
“No, he’s not here. I’m just taking a break, actually.”
She gave me a surprised look. “You’re working? Like a job?”
I knew what that look said: no way a spoiled, rich girl like you is on her lunch break from a job. My parents were being judgmental assholes about this whole thing with Graham, but, I realized, it could also go the other way, because here was his mom, sitting here, judging me just because my parents were wealthy.
“It’s not a job, exactly,” I said. “I’m working on a sculpture.”
“Oh.” Janice looked a little smug. “So, it’s not a job at all, then. I’ll take a large iced coffee,” she said to one of the waitresses behind the counter.
“Well, no, it’s not a job, but it’s something that I’m spending a lot of time on, and it’s going to be in an art show at the end of the summer.” I could hear the defensive note in my voice, and I was suddenly overcome with the desire to make her understand that I wasn’t someone who just sat around and expected everything to be given to me on a silver platter.
“An art show,” she said. “Now that sounds fancy. I tried to go to an art museum once. In Boston. I thought it’d be a nice way to spend the day, and I’d always been hearing people talk about what a fine experience it was, how they felt so enriched by it, blah blah blah. So I went and I was thoroughly unimpressed. Half of the shit didn’t even seem like art; it was like something a 5-year-old could do.”
“You must’ve gone to the MoMA.”
“The whatta?”
“The Museum of Modern Art. Sometimes modern art can seem like that. Like it was done by a 5-year-old.”
She waved me off. “Yeah, I don’t know. I don’t remember what it was called, I just remember not enjoying myself and leaving not feeling enriched. I like art, just not that kind. That’s where Graham gets it, you know. So, have you still been seeing him? I don’t talk to him nearly as much as I’d like to, so I don’t really know what’s going on in his life.”
“Yeah,” I said. I paused, wondering if I should just leave it at that or actually tell her we were going out. “We’re ... we’re kind of seeing each other.”
She looked at me curiously. “Seeing each other? Dating, you mean?”
“Um ... yeah. Like, boyfriend and girlfriend.”
“I see.” She nodded slowly. “This is the first I’m hearing of it, of course, because, like I said, Graham doesn’t really seem to have much time for me these days.”
“I’m sure he’d be happy to see you,” I said, though I wasn’t sure if this was true or not.
“Is he paying you to say that? He knows where to find me if he wants, and he doesn’t ever seem to come around to visit, so I don’t think he’d be that thrilled to see me. But I guess that’s just how it goes sometimes, right? I try not to get hurt feelings over it. He’s an adult, he’s got his own life, I know how it goes.”
“My parents aren’t really speaking to me at the moment,” I blurted out. I knew Janice didn’t really like me, so there wasn’t much point in telling her any of this, but I just found myself unable to stop talking. “They’re pissed because I’m seeing Graham. More than that though, they’re pissed because I’m not just doing what they say anymore. I was like that for a while. I just always did what I thought they wanted. At first because I thought that was the right thing, and then later just because I didn’t want to make them mad, because it just seemed easier. But I realize that was stupid, because now they just expect me to do what they think I should.”
Janice took a sip of her iced coffee. “Well, I’m sorry to hear that,” she said. “I don’t know the details, but it sounds like one of those situations that will just blow over if you give it enough time.”
“I d
on’t know. My father can be really stubborn when he wants to be. And my mom is just kind of going along with him.”
“You should call your mom. I don’t know the woman, but I’m sure she’d like to speak with you.”
“I know,” I said. “I should, but ....”
“Men are different. Men can just turn their emotions on and off at will, it seems. But a mom will always want to talk to her child. Has Graham ever mentioned his father?”
“No, I don’t think he has.”
“Graham’s father was able to just completely act like Graham didn’t even exist. Had no interest in ever even meeting him. Could you imagine that? Having a child out there in the world that you’ve never met? That you don’t even care about? No way I could ever do something like that.”
“That’s awful,” I said.
“It is awful. But of course, that’s just what men do. Well, some men. And I did as good as I could with Graham, which, I can admit, wasn’t always perfect. But I’ve always wanted the best for him. And it sounds like that’s what your parents want, too, even if they’re not going about expressing that the right way.” Janice nudged me with her elbow. “You know what you should do? You should give her a call. You’re her daughter; I’m sure she misses you a great deal, even if it has only been a few days. I know I miss Graham, but I try not to bug him too much. I don’t care what kind of argument we got into; I’d always be happy to get a call from him. I bet your mom feels the same way.”
“Maybe you’re right,” I said.
After I finished eating, I stayed and talked with Janice a little while longer, and then I told her I had to get back to the studio.
“Thanks for being such a good lunch date,” Janice said.
“It was my pleasure,” I said. “And I’ll tell Graham to give you a call or something. Or you could come over for dinner.”
“I don’t want to get my hopes up, but that does sound nice. Thanks, Chloe.”
I smiled and said bye, and as I left, I decided that maybe Graham’s mother didn’t dislike me, after all.
*****
I drove back to the art center, but when I got there, I sat out in the parking lot, phone in my hand. Janice was right; I just needed to call my mother and at least say “hi.” Ask how she was doing. The worst she could do was hang up on me, and I didn’t think she would do something like that, if for no other reason than she wouldn’t think it was good manners.
I scrolled through my recent calls list until I came to her name. Mom. I stared at the three letters, stalling, and then I touched the screen. The phone rang, once, then twice, and then she picked up.
“Chloe?”
“Hi, Mom. Is now a good time to talk?”
“Of course it is! I’ve been wanting to call you but I just haven’t. It’s not because I haven’t been thinking about you. I ran into Melanie the other day and she said that you’d been staying at her house, but that she hadn’t seen you the past couple of days. I assume that everything is okay?”
“Yeah, I’m okay.”
“I’ve been really worried. I know that you’re an adult and everything, Chloe, but I just hated the way everything happened with your father that night. I wasn’t expecting him to say that at all. I thought we were just going to have another talk with you. Let you know how we felt about Graham.”
“But how can you say that, Mom? You were just telling me before that that you thought he was nice. That you wanted to see him again.”
“What I really want is for everyone to get along. I don’t want there to be fighting, and I don’t like conflict. I want you to be happy. You know that, don’t you? I hate this, I don’t want things to be this way. It’s summer! We’re supposed to be enjoying ourselves, not fighting! And I’ve missed you,” my mother said. She sniffed, and I could tell she was crying.
“I miss you too, Mom.”
“I’d like to see you. And you know what? I don’t care what your father says; I’m not going to spend the rest of the summer exiling you. I want to see Graham, too. If he is someone that you like, and he treats you well, then yes, I want to give him a chance. Why don’t the two of you come with me to the yacht club tomorrow? You don’t have to stay all day; we could just do lunch, if you wanted.”
I hesitated. “I would be more than happy to do that, but is that a good idea?” When my father wasn’t golfing, he could usually be found at the yacht club, and I didn’t know how well it would go over if he happened to see the three of us there. I didn’t want to fight anymore, either, but I also didn’t want to make things worse between him and my mother.
“Don’t worry; your father will be gone all day. He and a few friends are going to golf on Nantucket for the day. Please, sweetie? I’d really like to see you, and I’d like it if you brought Graham along. I mean it.”
It felt weird to be making plans like this, as though we were both sneaking around behind my father’s back. But my mom was inviting not just me, but Graham, too. She wanted to see us both. And I didn’t really feel like going to the yacht club, but that was her comfort zone and maybe she’d feel more at ease there.
“Sure,” I said. “We can do that.”
“Okay, great. I am so glad you called me. Why don’t we plan on meeting there tomorrow around noon? Does that work?”
“Noon sounds good,” I said. “We’ll see you then.”
“I love you, sweetie.”
“I love you, too.”
After we hung up, I sat there in the car for a few more minutes. The call had actually gone better than I’d thought it would have, and now, I could only hope that tomorrow would go smoothly, too. First, though, I’d have to convince Graham that he wanted to go.
*****
I was pleased with the amount of progress I’d made on my sculpture when I finally left the art center for the day. I was also glad that I’d listened to Janice’s advice and called my mother.
Graham had sent me a text and said he’d be home earlier than he thought since one of his appointments had rescheduled, so I decided to stop at the grocery store and pick something up to make for dinner. My culinary skills wouldn’t win me any awards or anything, but Alicia had showed me once how to make clams and linguine, which was simple to make but tasted exquisite.
When Graham got home, I was just draining the pasta.
“Whoa,” he said as he walked in. “Something smells good.”
“I’ve made dinner,” I said. “And it will be ready in two minutes.”
“I’m feeling like quite the lucky guy. I don’t think anyone’s made me dinner before.”
“Well, then, I’m glad I get to be the first. You get to be the first guy I’ve slept with; I get to be the first girl who’s cooked you dinner.”
“Good trade-off, I’d say.”
“You haven’t tried the food yet.”
He laughed. “Touché.”
But the food turned out to be quite good. It was hard to mess up pasta, and so long as you had butter, olive oil, garlic, clams, and white wine, it was hard to mess up the sauce, too.
“This is delicious,” he said. “I could probably eat about two pounds of this. I didn’t really have lunch today, it was so busy.”
I took another bite; it had come out quite good. “I was pretty busy today, too. But I did happen to stop for lunch. I went to Lorraine’s, actually. You should maybe give your mom a call.”
He made a face. “Why?”
“I actually ran into her today.”
He gave me a quizzical look. “Please tell me you weren’t applying for a job down at The Finery.”
“No way,” I said, hitting his shoulder lightly. “I told you—I was taking a break from the sculpture and I decided to go get lunch, so I went to Lorraine’s and your mom was there.”
“Oh, right. Yesterday was Monday. She always goes to Lorraine’s on Monday.”
“She gave me some good advice.”
“I can just imagine. Actually, I don’t think I even want to know.”
“We had a nice chat. It started off a little awkwardly, but then we started talking about parents and stuff and ... I don’t know. I can tell she loves you. She misses you. She ...” I paused. “She told me a little about your father.”
“Oh, Jesus.” He put his fork down. “I really don’t want to know.”
“We don’t have to get into it,” I said.
“That’s good, I’d really rather not. There’s no need to spoil this fine meal that you’ve made.”
“All right. We can talk about something totally neutral. Like ... the weather.”
Graham picked up his fork and started eating again. “Tell me how your sculpture’s coming along.”
“Really good. I was able to get a lot of work done today, and I’m happy with how it turned out.”
“That’s great. Still a secret, though?”
“Top secret.”
He took another bite. “Well, if it’s even half as good as this food, then you’ll be in good shape.”
“Why, thank you. I guess you’ll just have to wait and see.”
We watched a movie after dinner and then got ready for bed. I’d felt tired when we’d been sitting together on the couch, but now that I could actually close my eyes, I could tell sleep was a long way off.
I turned to Graham and curved my body against the length of him, draping my leg over his. I could feel his cock, which was hard and getting harder as I gently squeezed it. He groaned softly into my hair, running his fingers down my flank. I could feel myself getting wet as he slid a hand between my legs, his fingers probing.
“You feel so good,” he whispered as he slipped first one finger, then another, inside of me. I ran my hand up and down his cock.
“So do you,” I said.
We started to kiss—long, slow kisses, our tongues entwining. I moaned against him as he pushed his fingers further into me, rotating his wrist slowly in a clockwise motion. It felt so good, but I needed more, I needed him inside of me.
