Twelve Rooms with a View

by Theresa Rebeck

  “He had you cleaning houses? Back up,” said Lyle.

  “Well, we were supposed to be caretakers for the homes of rich people who had places out there. But Darren didn’t have it worked out.”

  “Back up. What do you mean it wasn’t worked out?” Lyle held his hand out to silence the other three, so he could get the information he wanted.

  “Well, you know, he didn’t really know anybody there, so we went out and there was no place to live, not even an apartment to rent because there just wasn’t, so we ended up living in this trailer—”

  “You went from living in a trailer to living in the Edge?” said Roger, clearly entranced by the magic of this.

  “Don’t rush her, we’re not there yet!” Scott interrupted. “So then your mother died.”

  “Yes. My mother died.”

  “And when was this?” he continued.

  “About two months ago.”

  “Two months?” someone murmured.

  “It was just two months ago? Oh, sweetie. Oh, Tina. That’s such a loss.” All of them were silent for a moment, thinking about what a terrible thing it is to lose a mother. And it did feel like that suddenly. For the first time since she died, I knew I was talking to people who wanted to hear about my mom.

  “It was,” I said. “It really was. But the fact is, I had already lost her! I hadn’t seen her in so long. Years. I hadn’t seen her in years.”

  “So you lost her twice,” said Andrew, mourning that double loss quietly with the question.

  “I lost her even before that,” I admitted. “She started drinking when I was in high school. And it wasn’t her fault.”

  “Spoken like the true daughter of an alcoholic. I see some Al-Anon meetings in your future, darling,” Scott observed.

  “I don’t mind that she drank,” I said. “It didn’t make her mean or anything, it just made her kind of dopey. Honestly, I thought it made her feel better. Nobody was really very nice to her. My father was a nightmare.”

  “Did he hit her? Did he hit you?”

  “He hit everybody.” Soaking in a tubful of bubbles, surrounded by nice gay men, somehow made it not so hard to admit that.

  “Did he drink too?”

  “Well, sure, he always drank. He drank beer. Her drink was vodka.”

  “God, I love vodka,” Roger said with a sort of spiritual sigh. “Okay, so he was always a drinker, and she started when you were in high school,” Lyle narrated, making sure we were all on the same page.

  “Yes,” I said.

  “It happens like that sometimes,” said Andrew, the compassionate realist. “People don’t know they have options and so they get dragged into it.”

  “Is anyone worried that we’re all sitting here getting smashed while we talk about Tina’s tragic and clearly alcoholic parents who both died terribly young? They died terribly young, right?” said Scott, the less compassionate realist.

  “My father died in a car crash when I was twenty,” I said. “He was forty-seven or something.”

  “Did you cheer?”

  “No, everyone just pretended it was all so sad,” I remembered. “It was weird. Lucy and Alison and I were all out of the house by then—”

  “You were in college,” Scott supplied.

  “No, I dropped out of college.”

  “You dropped out of college?” Roger exclaimed, as if this were really astonishing.

  “Let her finish,” said Lyle.

  “Yeah, so I was living with this guy,” I fumbled.

  “Darren?” suggested Roger.

  “No, a different guy, there were—several—different guys,” I admitted.

  “I’m sure,” Scott said, nodding.

  “Anyway, Lucy and Alison and I went back to my parents’ house after the funeral—there was like a little thing after the funeral.” I had a terrible moment as I realized that we had had a little party for my oh-so-shitty father, and we didn’t have one for mom. But I didn’t want to stop and fill in all the ironic extra details anymore; as nice as these guys were, I was afraid that I might suddenly drown. “Anyway, there were neighbors and some friends of his from work, and people brought food and stood around. We lived in a little duplex, one of those places that has aluminum siding on it, it was pretty nice, Mom always kept it clean. And so people were there after the funeral, talking about how it was such a shame and what a relief that he didn’t suffer, and then they all left. Mom was drinking by then, it was like one in the afternoon, and she was totally just—but she didn’t really show it. She would go into the kitchen when no one was paying attention and come out with a glass of grape juice or orange juice, pretending like that’s all it was. I mean, she never said, ‘oh, I need another drink,’ she would just disappear and come back and then eventually she would fall asleep. She would put her head down on the table and mutter something like ‘whatever you do, it’s not enough.’ That was like her mantra, I used to hate her for it. She was such a quitter.”

  “Tina, shush, she’s dead, sweetheart,” Scott reminded me.

  “So Alison and Lucy and I,” I said, pushing on with the story, “we knew she was about to pass out, she kept disappearing into the kitchen, so we all assumed, and we were getting ready to take off. Alison had put all the dishes in the dishwasher and it was running, and we were leaving. And then Mom was, she just showed up in the doorway and said, ‘Can you take that out of here?’” I couldn’t believe I was remembering all this. Sitting there in all those bubbles, it all seemed so clear, like a movie playing in my head. “And she sort of lifted her hand just a little, because she was really drunk, she was, she was just smashed—” Okay, and then I did start crying, because that seemed like the worst detail of the whole story, that she was so drunk. “And she was pointing at his chair. He had this chair, it was so ugly, this brown plaid Barcalounger that he would just, he sat there all the time and got drunk and watched stupid sports on television, and it was like him. It was just him. And she said it, she didn’t have to ask twice, we knew what she was asking. Just, get that thing out of here. Which we did, the three of us, we went over and picked up that horrible chair and took it to the front door, and I don’t know how we got it out but we did, we took it out to the curb and left it there. And it sat out there for like a week and a half, and then the garbagemen got tired of ignoring it, I guess, because it was finally gone. Like him. No one could explain how it happened that we were all just—free.”

  Andrew poured another vodka gimlet into my glass. He had a little shaker tucked by the side of the Jacuzzi, on the floor. “Thank you,” I said, clutching the slippery glass. I had to concentrate to do that, and then I was able to stop sobbing, which was a relief.

  “Why didn’t she leave him?” Roger asked. “That’s what I don’t understand. Honestly, what is the point of sticking around?”

  “She had three kids,” I offered, as if that answered the question. I was aware as soon as I said it that it answered nothing at all, but I was too exhausted and embarrassed and drunk to offer more.

  “Did you inherit those pearls?” asked Scott.

  “The pearls?” I felt my hand creep up to my neck, to make sure they were still there, although I could feel them heavy against my neck. Scott raised an eyebrow at me. He was sitting on the floor now, draped in a towel, and he looked a little like Zeus or Apollo or some severe god who was not going to be easily fooled by mere mortals.

  “Yes, the pearls, Tina, don’t look so guilty,” he commented. “Did you steal them?”

  “Did I steal them?”

  “Goodness, you sound so paranoid! I was joking, I just wanted to know where you got them, you know they have to be worth a fortune. Is that a melo pearl in the clasp? How much are those worth?” Scott turned to Lyle, who was apparently an expert on all things women wore.

  “If you have to ask, you can’t afford it,” Lyle said, without seeming to notice the questions inside the question. “Although I will note that the clutch you were carrying is a Rue Jacob and probably
worth at least fifteen thousand. Does anyone want this last piece of sushi?”

  “Fifteen—come on, for just the purse?” I asked.

  “Well, that’s probably what you’d pay for it in a vintage couture shop. You wouldn’t get that if you sold it. You’d get maybe five.”

  “And the pearls?”

  “You really want to know?” Lyle asked. You could tell he was wondering what on earth I was doing wearing them if I didn’t even know what they were worth.

  “I just borrowed them,” I said, sliding down a little farther in the bubbles. The steam in the room was making everyone a little pink, so no one could see me blush. I am an accomplished liar, but I didn’t feel like lying to these guys. They cared enough about me to respect the truth, which made it hard.

  “Isn’t that funny,” I murmured.

  “What’s funny, Tina?” asked Andrew gently. I looked at him, surprised that I had spoken the words aloud, like in one of those dreams where you can’t tell the difference between what you are thinking and what you are saying.

  “It’s funny that Lucy and Alison are so easy to lie to, but you’re not,” I said. “I don’t even know you. Shouldn’t it be the other way around?”

  Before this could lead to any more truth-telling, however, our steam-filled reverie was interrupted.

  “Tina Finn, in a hot tub wearing pearls, surrounded by men,” said a sardonic voice. “Be still, my heart.” Everyone looked up, and there was Vince, his shirt hanging open, lounging in the doorway. While it was true that I had been sitting in that hot tub surrounded by men and bubbles for a good forty minutes, no one had glanced at me that entire time with anything more intrusive than good-natured kindness or drunken bonhomie. Vince’s lust curled and snapped through the room like a whip. I knew he couldn’t see a thing below my breastbone, because the bubbles, frothed up by the water jets, were insanely thick by this point. But for the first time all night I felt naked.

  “Go away, Vince,” I said. “We’re having a good time.”

  “I can see that. I can’t believe I’ve missed all the fun.”

  But it wasn’t fun anymore. I looked up at him slouching in that doorway, thinking about having sex with me, and he looked like half a dozen other guys I let myself get swallowed up by. I looked over at Roger and Lyle, who were rolling their eyes at each other; there’s no mistaking a guy in heat, and if you’re not the one he’s gunning for, you may as well not be in the room. Our little cabal had turned into some sort of hot fantasy for Vince. As far as the rest of us were concerned, the fun was over.

  “Well, we were just taking off,” Lyle announced. “It’s great to meet you, Tina. Take care of those pearls, those are a treasure. And so are you.” He leaned over and kissed me on the cheek, dropping his towel carelessly as he did. He truly did spend a lot of time at the gym, so there was no reason not to be bold at a moment like that. Scott and Andrew cheered. “Have a good look, girls,” Lyle said, raising his arms with a little flourish as he squeezed by Vince. Roger, who was a little shorter and stouter, held on to his towel, but he kissed me too.

  “Bye, Tina, be a good girl,” he said. And he gave me a little look, like there was no need to say anything about my past just now but also no need to pretend I didn’t have one. Scott and Andrew were collecting their clothes as well. I reached out and kind of grabbed Andrew’s wet fingers, and he lifted my hand to his mouth, kissing it sweetly while he raised an eyebrow at me. Vince watched the mass exodus of gay men with a smirk; there was no question in his mind that he was going to get a turn with me in the hot tub. And then the retreating Roger threw me a lifeline. “Are Dave and Edward still here?” he called from the next room.

  This clipped Vince right across the back of the neck. He turned, caught out somehow, and his face got all thoughtful, like he really cared whether or not Dave and Edward were still there. “Yeah, they’re in the kitchen, cleaning up, with Jonathan,” he called back. Loose towels were lying around everywhere by this point, and I had one in my hand before he had time to turn back.

  “You’re not getting out?” he asked, petulant, as he slid into the bathroom and closed the door. “Come on, I just got here.” There was a spoiled and wicked glint in his eye, and his bare chest seemed to immediately glisten as it came in contact with the humidity. This was a dangerous, soggy moment at the very least, a moment when one’s weakness for hot, problematic men might be tested. The one thought that kept me from doing something stupid was the question that good-hearted Roger had flung over his shoulder just before Vince shut the bathroom door.

  “What’s the story with Dave and Edward?” I asked. “I hear they’re both in love with you.” Vince cocked his head at this, somewhat amused, and gave me enough time to wrap myself in that towel and step out onto the tiles. I wobbled a little, as the floor was slippery and I was drunk—a little less drunk, fortunately, since Vince had arrived and put a straight male damper on things—but class triumphed. Vince reached out, a perfect gentleman, and steadied me.

  “Who told you that?” he asked.

  “Roger and Lyle, they said that half the gathering is in love with you. Is it possible that you have not told those nice boys which side of the fence you fall on?” I asked.

  “Not that it’s any of your business, Tina, but Dave and Edward and some of the other men here have a fair amount of disposable income that they are considering investing with me. It doesn’t have anything to do with fences. Or falling. You look very fetching, wearing nothing but pearls.” He was hovering over me, and that thing had happened where I just fit so neatly into the curve of his shoulder it seemed inevitable that we were going to end up having sex on the floor. His arm was curling down my naked back, and his mouth was closing in on mine. Honestly, it was not the kind of situation I would have resisted under normal circumstances, but my loyalties were not to my past at this moment.

  “Vince—I’m not going to have sex with you in your bathroom while you have guests in the next room who are in love with you, because you’re letting them think you might be gay so you can get them to give you money,” I informed him. His face was right up against mine, so I literally had to whisper it into his ear. “It’s not going to happen, Vince. I like those guys. You shouldn’t fuck around with them.” I wobbled again and wheeled myself around on my toes, grabbing on to the front of his shirt as I did. For a second he thought he was going to get lucky even though I was telling him he wasn’t, but then he realized I had just repositioned myself so I could grab my dress and scoot out the door.

  Which is what I did. Lyle and Roger and Scott had moved back to the living room and the kitchen, to rejoin the party, which was still in progress. But Andrew was still there in the bedroom, pulling his ash-colored cashmere crewneck over his head carefully, to keep it from stretching. He looked up and smiled and reached out for my dress, which I handed to him. I finished drying myself off while he went back into the bathroom to find my underwear and stockings and heels, which I had dropped carelessly in corners when I took them off. Andrew helped me slip them on, and then my dress, and neither of us said a thing about Vince watching the whole operation from the door of the bathroom. You can watch all you want, I thought; this is as close as you’re going to get to me or Sophie’s dress or Sophie’s pearls.

  21

  AFTER I KISSED ALL THOSE NICE BOYS GOOD-BYE, I WENT BACK TO my beautiful empty apartment and pulled on a T-shirt and crawled into my little bed on the floor and had a dream. It was not a very subtle dream. I was out at the Delaware Water Gap, standing in front of my trailer, alone. The wind was blowing the few trees around so violently that they looked like they might come down. I knew a terrible storm was coming, so I looked around for Alison and Lucy and Mom, but I couldn’t see them anywhere. So I ran into the middle of the trailer park to see if I could find them. I could see people in the other trailers, but they were just moving around inside, I didn’t know who they were, and every now and then one of them would come to the door to look at me and wave me away. Every
one wanted me to go back to my trailer. One lady started to yell at me and point, and when I looked where she was pointing, I could see a tornado coming, a real tornado with a funnel cloud that seemed to reach all the way to the ground. It was maybe half a mile away and coming right at us. She kept waving her arms, like you have to go home, you have to get to safety, so I ran back to the trailer, even though I knew no one was there, and I knew that a trailer is the last place you want to be during a tornado. I kept thinking, you should just get down on the ground, Tina, get down, that’s your only chance. But when I looked at the door of the trailer, I thought someone was in there, maybe Alison or Lucy or Mom had come back and I needed to rescue them. So I went into that terrible old plywood and aluminum trailer, which was empty and dark, but no one was in there, and then the tornado hit and I knew it was too late for me and everybody.

  Which of course woke me up. I sat upright, my heart pounding, and for a terrible second I didn’t know where I was. That room was usually so dark, but for some reason light was spilling all down the wall. Then I heard someone crying, like a child, long miserable sobs, and I didn’t know if it was me or the dream or the ghost or someone breaking into my apartment; honestly, it was disorienting as hell. So I held my hand over my heart, trying to force it to slow the fuck down, and then I turned to see where the light was coming from, thinking I had just forgotten to turn off the hall light, and I saw someone standing in the doorway. A child, in a nightgown, holding a club. And she was real.

  “Oh my god,” I said. “Holy shit. Jesus God above, what do you want? Oh my god.” I don’t think I’d ever been so scared in my life. Truly. Over the past two months my mother had died, I’d been invaded, I’d been arrested, I’d met a ghost—and nothing tossed me into complete unblinking terror the way that kid standing there with a club did. I crept up the wall, hoping it would swallow me up and protect me from this unholy vision. It didn’t. But rather than enter the room swinging, the kid just stood there and sobbed.

  “What do you want?” I said. “Seriously. Seriously. What do you want?”