by Jay Quinn
The evening proceeded smoothly from that point through dinner, eased by a great deal of wine and a remarkably well-received chicken with an orzo and roasted vegetable dish that Rory had cribbed from the Barefoot Contessa. Bruno and the Hardens ate appreciatively and the conversation progressed from the merely polite to the sincerely genial.
Over dessert, Meg gestured toward the paintings in the living room and said, “I love the lights over your paintings, Rory. Tell me, is that something you can put up?”
Rory smiled indulgently and said, “Yes, I did those, as a matter of fact.”
“Meg,” Austin said anxiously.
She laughed and continued, “I’d hoped you did. You see, we just bought one, thinking the cord just ran down the back behind this painting we have in our living room, but it turned out to be one that has to be wired through the wall. Austin is hopeless with things like that; could you possibly give him a hand getting ours up?”
Austin turned beet red in embarrassment.
Noting Austin’s discomfort and Meg’s obliviousness to it, Rory directed his answer to him. “I’ll be happy to give you a hand, Austin.”
“I apologize for my wife,” Austin said. “She has no idea when she’s imposing.”
Bruno noted Meg’s own flush at Austin’s reply. Before she could retort, he said, “It’s no imposition, is it, Rory? It’ll take no time at all to pull a wire and get it hooked up.”
Rory nodded and smiled.
“It’s not that Austin probably couldn’t do it, he’s just not used to doing it, that’s all,” Meg offered quietly. “And he doesn’t have the proper tools, do you sweetheart?”
Austin looked at his dessert, forlorn and half-eaten on his plate. “No, I’m afraid I’m all thumbs with stuff like that, I admit it.”
“Nothing to be ashamed of, big guy,” Bruno said, “I can’t screw in a light bulb without Rory. Hell, I thought the ceiling fans only blew one way until Rory showed me this little switch on the motor that you flick up or down depending on the season.”
“You do what?” Meg asked.
“The blades push warm air down from the ceiling in wintertime. You flick it and they pull the cold air up in summer. Who knew?” Bruno said with a laugh.
“I didn’t know that,” Meg said. “I thought they just blew one way all the time.”
“You could just wire the lamp with a cord and plug; couldn’t you Rory?” Austin suggested hopefully. “I don’t want to take your time pulling wires to a switch. There’s a plug on the wall straight down from where the lamp is supposed to go. We could just plug it in there.”
Meg looked at Rory appealingly. Rory knew she didn’t want an ugly cord snaking down her living room wall. He winked at Austin and said, “Take it easy. We’ll do it right. If the lamp has a switch on the fixture, we could wire it into the outlet below and you could turn it off and on from the fixture itself. That’ll be a lot easier than pulling a wire behind more dry wall, through studs to a switch. It won’t take long.”
“You can do that?” Meg asked happily.
“It’s just magic,” Bruno said and laughed.
“Is it dangerous to wire it into the plug?” Meg asked.
Rory smiled. “No. The lamp doesn’t pull that much load. I promise not to do anything that will burn your house down.”
“I’ll check the lamp, if you’re sure you don’t mind, Rory,” Austin said and glared at is wife.
“It’s okay, Austin.” Rory said reassuringly. “Eat your cake and don’t worry about it. We’ll git ’er done,” he growled.
“Git ’er done,” Bruno growled in return.
Meg and Austin looked at them, dumbfounded.
“Larry the Cable Guy, from Blue Collar TV… you know, git ’er done,” Rory said. Noting their polite blank looks, he said: “The Comedy Channel?”
“We don’t get a chance to watch much TV,” Austin said apologetically. “You guys much watch a lot.”
“No wonder you get our boys’ jokes,” Meg said appreciatively. “Half the time what they say goes straight over my head. I watched South Park with them that one time and I thought it would curl my hair.”
Bruno lifted his brows and nodded at Meg with a neutral expression in reply.
“We like to watch TV later in the evenings, but we’re not addicts or anything,” Rory explained evenly. “We don’t even have any premium channels, but Bruno likes to watch and unwind before bed.”
“Must be nice,” Austin snorted. “Meg settles into her evening with her legal files strewn all over the bed. She falls asleep with them in her hand. Sometimes it takes me fifteen minutes to put them away, neatly, before I can get into bed.”
“I have to bring work home,” Meg said, obviously hurt. “There are just not enough hours in the day.”
Austin simply rolled his eyes in response.
Bruno noted the exchange and intercepted the ball. “I’m sure it’s tough, Meg. You don’t get to be a partner without putting in some long hours.”
“No, you don’t get to be a partner without letting everything else slide,” Austin said nastily.
“You don’t get a better job sitting on your ass playing computer poker either do you, sweetheart,” Meg said icily.
Rory glanced at Bruno and stood. “I think I’ll get these dessert things cleared. Austin, are you finished?”
Meg stood a little unsteadily and picked up the plate holding the rest of Austin’s half-eaten cake before he could answer. “Let me give you a hand, Rory. It is so nice to have someone else cook for a change. The least I can do is help you clear the table.”
Bruno stood as well. “Austin, why don’t you come with me. We’ll leave the wives to it.”
“Gee, thanks,” Rory said and laughed as he made his way into the kitchen.
Austin stood and made his way around the table. Bruno waited for him, and once he got within reach Bruno threw a heavy arm over his shoulders to lead him to the pool deck through the living room doors, avoiding the kitchen with sure determination.
In the kitchen, Rory left Meg to place Austin’s dessert plate in the sink while he stepped through the family room to let Bridget out of the bedroom. When he returned, Bridget trudged along beside him until she caught sight of Meg. Promptly, she walked over and gave the woman a good sniff.
Meg froze and stood looking down at the huge dog as if it might suddenly tear her leg off. “My goodness, aren’t you a big girl? Do you bite?” She asked nervously.
Rory glanced at Meg standing pinned against the counter and fought a smile. Deftly, he took Bridget’s bowl from the floor and lifted it to the counter, “She’s a love pig. Don’t let her intimidate you.”
Bridget caught his movement and promptly rushed to Rory’s side in anticipation of being fed an unusual late-night snack. Meg watched as Rory slid the remains of the orzo and roasted vegetables into the dog’s bowl. She made a little moue of distaste and said, “Does she eat people food all the time?”
Rory stooped and put the bowl on the floor, where Bridget immediately began slurping it with relish. Rory patted her big head and gave Meg a smile. “No, she usually eats dog food, but she was so well-behaved tonight I thought she deserved a treat. You guys don’t have pets, do you?”
Meg watched Bridget as she untidily licked the inside of her bowl spraying small pieces of orzo on the floor. Barely disguising her repugnance, she said, “No. I’ve never been a big fan of animals in the house. The boys are bad enough.”
Rory leaned against the counter and watched as Bridget nosed her now empty bowl out of the way and began to lick the stray remains off the floor. “We’ve always had mastiffs. Bridget is our third. Bruno got me the first one when he walked out on me to get married. He gave me a mastiff puppy because he said it would remind me of him and keep me company. The idiot.”
Meg glanced toward the pool deck outside the sliding glass door. She could just make out Bruno’s back blocking Austin from sight. She glanced back to Rory and, studiedly hiding her
interest, said, “Oh? Bruno was married?”
Rory sighed and said, “C’mon Bridget. Let’s go see Daddy Bruno. “The big dog trotted happily toward the door and Rory followed along behind to obligingly let her out. Once she had made it outside, he closed the door against the lingering heat and smiled at Meg. When he’d made his way back to the counter, he said, “He was married for just over a year after he got his MBA. We lived in Charlotte then.”
Meg nodded uncomfortably. “Whatever happened to his wife?”
Rory stepped around her to the sink and began rinsing the dessert dishes. “She’s remarried. The last he heard from her, she’s happy. Has a couple of kids now, I believe.”
“That must have been difficult,” Meg said evenly.
Rory opened the door of the dishwasher and placed the plates inside. “It just about killed me. Bruno left, but he wouldn’t stay gone. He couldn’t deal with committing himself to either me or her. It was a pretty rough time.”
Meg shifted her weight to her other foot and watched him load the flatware into its basket. “What about his wife?”
Rory glanced around the counter, looking for stray dirty dishes. Satisfied the counter was clear, he closed the dishwasher door and gave Meg a direct look. “I really don’t know. It was hard for me to be empathetic. You see, as far as I was concerned, she was the interloper. Bruno and I had been together for four years before he met her. She was just an easy answer for him.”
“What do you mean?” Meg asked carefully.
“Well, it’s sort of the path of least resistance when you’re in a world like Bruno’s. Everyone else has a pretty wife and two-point-three kids. It automatically makes you a member of the old boy’s club, hail fellow well met, all of that crap. It takes a lot of guts to make it in that world when you buck the system and want to create a life with another guy.”
Meg gave him a direct look. “Well, I suppose your circumstances aren’t very typical in the real world.”
Rory responded with a raised eyebrow. He knocked on the counter beside him, then folded his arms across his chest. “I don’t know… our world seems pretty real to me. We have a real mortgage and a light bill that wants to be paid in real money.”
Meg flushed with embarrassment. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to imply…
Rory nodded. “Would you like another glass of wine? I’d love to finish up the bottle.”
Meg knew he was letting her out of that particular conversational dead end. “Yes. I’d be happy to help you finish off the bottle if there’s enough to share.”
“I believe there is.” Rory turned and reached into the cabinet behind him and took out a pair of clean glasses. He placed them on the counter within Meg’s reach and said, “I’ll be right back. I think we left the rest of the wine on the dining room table.”
Gratefully, Meg watched him go. Her eyes fled around the large, neat kitchen looking for anything to comment upon to change the course of the conversation. At the opposite end of the bar, she saw a framed eight-by-ten picture sitting on a small easel. It was part of a small tableau that included a figurine and a white candle burning in a tall glass jar. She walked toward it to get a better look.
The picture looked to be quite old. It was a picture of Jesus Christ from the waist up, regarding her with infinite patience and a languid hand pointing to his breast where a heart rested, blood red, laced by thorns and topped by a gold crown. It looked almost kitschy, but it was far too reverent an image, rendered far too romantically, to be anything less than sincere. Next to the picture, opposite the candle, was a small statue of the Holy Family. Joseph led a donkey on which the Virgin Mary rode, holding the baby Jesus in her arms. Like the picture, the figurine looked to be very antiquated.
“It’s a picture of the Sacred Heart,” Rory said, startling her. “It was my grandmother’s.”
Meg stood back as if she’d been caught prying. “It’s lovely,” she said quietly.
Rory smiled. “Catholics believe Christ promised special blessings for a home that displays a picture of his Sacred Heart. I know it’s old-fashioned to believe such things, but…”
“No, not at all.” Meg interrupted. “I respect the fact you don’t mind putting what you believe on display.”
Rory nodded and stepped past her to the glasses he’d left behind. He poured the wine carefully and said, “My grandmother kept that picture hanging in her kitchen. She said that was the heart of the home. I’d hang it up, but in this open, big-ego kitchen, there’s no clear wall space, really. And, there’s nowhere to put the vigil candle.”
Meg looked back at the face of Christ with something near guilt. As Rory handed her a glass of wine, she asked, “Why do you burn the candle next to it?”
Rory took a sip of wine and said, “The flame represents the Holy Spirit’s presence in our home. Every morning, I say a prayer and light the candle. You’re supposed to let it burn all the time, but Bruno doesn’t like me leaving it lit when we’re in bed asleep. He’s terrified it will catch something on fire. Come sit,” he urged and turned toward the sofa in the family room.
Meg looked again at the picture and saw something cold and mean in herself that she recognized with a dawning sense of shame. She followed Rory into the family room and perched across from him on the sofa. “We Christians believe that once you let Christ inside your heart, you have no need for pictures and statues and things. One of the Ten Commandments is ‘Thou shalt make no graven images.’ While I’d be uncomfortable worshiping a picture, I do wish we had some kind of tradition, like you do, to keep God s image around to remind me that I can be a better person.”
Rory felt a headache begin to grow where his head joined his neck. He realized it was pointless to try to explain to the woman that Catholics are Christians and that he didn’t worship the picture of the Sacred Heart. He simply smiled and nodded politely.
Meg laughed nervously and took another sip of wine, fighting the urge to take a deeper drink. “Things have been so tense around the house lately, it’d do me good to have a picture of Jesus around to remind me to be a little more charitable.”
“I’m sure it’s been tough, Meg.” Rory said gently. “Moving, working, raising two boys—it sounds like a lot of work to me.”
Meg laughed a little. The wine she’d had all evening was kicked into another level of ease in her bloodstream by the new glass in her hands. “Oh, that’s all manageable. It’s Austin that’s getting on my nerves. Ever since he was laid off and started this new little job, he’s been so needy…”
Rory looked at her politely, but with some reserve, alarmed at what she might come up with.
“I’m sure you know how they get… guys, I mean.” Meg said and raised her eyebrows knowingly. “You know they want sex more often when they’re threatened,” she said as she scooted back in her seat to lean against the cushions behind her. She crossed her legs and took another sip of wine. “Since I made partner, you’d think Austin was back to being seventeen, the way he pouts about needing me that way.”
Rory sighed inwardly and leaned back against the sofa cushions himself. If there was no way to escape the girl chat that was coming, all he could do was make himself comfortable and pray the guys would come back in soon.
5160 ST. MARK’S COURT
AFTER SO LONG, it was accomplished quite simply, really. In the short trip across the front yards from the Fallon-Griffin’s to their own porch, Meg had placed her arm around Austin’s waist and drawn close to his side. He responded by bending to kiss the top of her head. They disengaged only to pass through the front door. Once inside, he took her hand and led her upstairs. Together, they checked on the boys, asleep on the floor in front of the TV. While Austin turned off the television, Meg spread a large comforter over them. They turned out the light and moved to their bedroom m the dark.
A little drunk from the unaccustomed amount of wine she’d had throughout the evening, Meg flicked on their bedside lamp, then stood there to undress, simply allowing her clothe
s to drop and puddle on the floor in a heap. Shyly, she looked at Austin as he undressed across from her on his side of the bed, until he looked back. His eyes betrayed surprise when he caught sight of her bare breasts. She smiled at him, and took off her panties. “Lock the door,” she whispered and gave him a smile.
A little high from a visit with Bruno’s bong on the pool deck, and clumsy from his share of the evening’s wine, Austin hesitated as he watched Meg turn back the bed covers and laid down. He felt his understanding dawn in his groin before he did in his head. Stepping out of his slacks, he moved to lock the door against the boy’s bad dreams or morning enthusiasm. When he returned to the bed, he unsteadily stood on one foot, then the other, to remove his socks. Meg turned on her side and propped her head in her hand, watching him. Long used to confusing her signals, he paused for a moment, stripped to his jockey shorts, until Meg lifted her eyebrows at him questioningly. He shucked them quickly and crawled into bed beside her.
“Don’t turn off the light,” Meg said quietly as he reached over her, but it was not a shy whisper, it was unapologetic and hungry. From that point there was no need for words. The signposts of touch and murmur were all along a well-traveled road for both of them. The sex was not inventive, but it was the comfortable and kind trip old lovers take together. And, so long in coming, it was mutually enjoyed.
Done, they lay beside each other, touching at the hip and shoulders, exposed by the kicked-away covers, cooling under the slow breeze from the ceiling fan. They spoke only in out-of-synch breaths until Austin whispered, “Welcome back.”
