Gavin sat back, pressed his fingertips of each hand together, and said, "I walked right past Amanda's closed door to get to my own room. I didn't know what to say. Not so long later, I heard her door open and she trotted down the stairs as fast as she'd gone up them. More shouting and then the backdoor slammed. She was leaving, and I had no idea where she was going. I bolted out of the house to catch her. I wanted her to know I loved her even if I didn't understand. Her Camry was already down the driveway and about to turn onto the highway. I ran down the block and watched as she turned into the wrong lane. She died without hearing that I loved her."
My fingers throbbed from twisting my purse strap as he spoke. I didn't know if I should speak and crack the stillness or let the room swell with it. I shifted in my chair, and when he didn't continue, I said, "Gavin, I'm so sorry." I reached across the desk and let my hand rest on his. "Your parents—"
"My parents never recovered. The tried to keep Vicky, the woman Amanda told them about, away from the funeral. That's when I told them the last memory my sister had of them was their faces as they shouted at her. The least they could do was allow her a peaceful funeral."
He slipped his hand from underneath my own, reached over a stack of files, and handed me a silver picture frame. I didn't need him to tell me that I was looking at Amanda. The same square chin and blonde hair. Taken the day of her graduation, the picture showed a generous smile, but it also captured an unmistakable wistfulness in her eyes.
"My parents died a few years ago, within a year of each other. Truth is, they died inside the same day Amanda did. Her death divided our family. Blame and guilt were all we could share."
45
I left Gavin's office, the story of his sister like a fresh throbbing burn on my hand. The more I thought about it, the more it hurt. The pain in Gavin's face when he said, "I watched my sister die because of intolerance. At that moment I decided I wouldn't let that happen again, to anyone," was as difficult to witness as his words were to hear.
I knew my decision to still cater for Washington disappointed him. Maybe surprised him, too. I tried to explain what the job meant for me and for Ben. I could have time to spend with my son because I wouldn't be so frantic about money. I couldn't make him understand Washington was the means to the goal. It was one job. But it could lead to so much more.
He didn't even walk me out like he usually did when David and I were there. I stood up to leave, and he told me he wished me luck and hoped everything turned out the way I expected.
I didn't allow myself to cry until I reached the car, but even then, I held back because I didn't want to have to explain to David why my eyes were puffy and ringed with black.
Days later, Washington stepped up his verbal attacks as the suit gained more publicity and there was speculation that at least two of the attackers could be identified. He suggested David lied about his money and watch being not stolen so he could use the Hate Crime Protection Act for publicity. After Washington's last press conference, I thought I'd have to tie Max in a chair to prevent another crime from occurring. The newspaper reported Washington said, "How do we know that he didn't lure those young men there intending to do them harm? Perhaps they were only defending themselves."
Max actually laughed when he heard that. "What an idiot. As if David could, what, immobilize four men at once?"
Every time I heard Washington speak, or I read something in the papers, I tried to pretend the David he was talking about wasn't my brother. I stopped listening to talk radio in the car. Gavin's calls, though infrequent, usually started with some reference to David before we lapsed into casual conversation. But he stopped calling. It's not like we had a relationship, I told myself. If he couldn't understand what I had to do to support my son, then maybe he wasn't someone I should be interested in anyway. Then, I'd think he probably said to himself if I was the kind of woman who could sell out her brother, why should he want to spend time with me.
David called to tell me he'd heard from Lori. She had been following the story in the newspaper, and she wanted him to know we were all in her prayers. "She asked me to tell you she's impressed that you came out, too."
When I didn't respond, David said, "You know she meant that as a compliment."
"I know. I'm glad she got in touch with you. That was probably a difficult call for her to make."
"I agree, and I told her that I admired her for making the effort. I wouldn't have thought less of her if she hadn't called. But the fact that she did said a lot about her character."
"Are you trying to tell me something, David?" I said as I pushed aside containers in the refrigerator looking for a brownie or leftover piece of anything.
"I'm hanging up now. I can't talk to you when you're in one of those moods," he told me. "Call me when you're human again."
When Julie asked me if I was still going to cater for "the creature," I told her if David asked me not to, I wouldn't. "If it's okay with David, then why is everyone upset with me?"
"What makes you think this is acceptable to David? Because he hasn't said anything? Maybe I know your brother better than you do."
I mentioned it to God, but He wasn't sending much information in my direction.
A few days later, Lurlene contacted me to set up the lunch date with Washington and his wife. I called David to tell him we were meeting to finalize plans for the reception. "But David, if you don't want me to do this, I'll back out."
"Caryn, I'm not going to be your conscience. You have to do what you think is best for you and Ben. I love you no matter what you decide."
Some people complain their families constantly tell them what to do. Me? I'm cursed with a family that expects me to make my own decisions and stand by them.
I was in my office collecting dinner orders when I heard the front door open and close.
"I'm in the back, Ben. Come tell me about your day."
He didn't dash down the hall with his usual bam-bam-bam of shoes thudding on the carpet. It sounded as if he walked in slow motion and dragged his backpack behind him.
When I saw him in the doorway, I almost bruised myself knocking against the desk and chair to get to him.
"You look terrible. Do you feel sick?" I felt his cheeks. No fever. "Come sit down. Tell me what happened."
He scratched the crease on his pants as he talked. "Mom, remember Uncle David brought my class cupcakes?"
I nodded. "Sure. Everyone loved them."
"Yeah, they did. Except a few kids saw Uncle David's picture in the paper and asked me if he was gay."
Something sour exploded in my stomach. "And what did you say?"
"I told them what you told me about people having different color eyes and all. Then Mario and Tyler asked if I was going to grow up gay, too."
I rubbed his back. "I'm sorry they said that. That was mean."
"Well, I don't want you to be mad at me because of what I said."
"I don't think I'll be mad unless you used words you shouldn't be using."
"No. I told them that if I was gay then I'd want to be like my Uncle David because he's nice and funny and strong. He got beat up bad and he had to go through a lot of surgeries and stuff. And I think he is brave for wanting to make sure the people who hurt him never hurt anyone else."
I purposely arrived at Tony Angelo's a few minutes late so the Washingtons would already be seated. And they'd have to wait. And maybe wonder.
The hostess led me to their table. Even in the middle of the week, the restaurant vibrated with conversation and clattering dishes.
Sidney stood up when I reached them. He introduced me to his wife, who looked more like Jackie O. in person than she did in the photos.
"So nice to finally meet you, Caryn," her handshake was feeble and tentative. "We worried something might have happened to you," she said. "Weren't we, Sidney?"
He patted her hand. "I wasn't so much worried about Caryn. I'm sure that little girl can take care of herself."
More than you realize,
Sidney.
"Here you go, Caryn. Why don't you have a seat right here across from my pretty wife, and we'll order before we start hammering out the details." Washington pulled out the chair next to him, the one facing his wife. "How's that sound ladies?"
I didn't move except to set my briefcase on the table. "No, thank you. I can't stay long, but I do have something to give you."
He and his wife looked at each other, then back at me. Washington moved the glass in front of him in small circles; the ice clinked like pennies in a bowl. He watched it for a moment and a lazy smile slithered across his face. "So," he set his glass firmly on the table, "you have something to give us?"
The insolence he generated fueled my determination." David Collins is my brother. Of course, you probably knew that already. Your asking me to cater your election night party meant a great deal to me . . . in money and referrals. And, I'm ashamed to admit I tried to ignore all those pathetic, terrible things you said about my brother because I needed the money."
I reached in my briefcase and pulled out the envelope I'd prepared.
"But, my son recently taught me an important lesson . . . and he's not yet nine." I turned my attention to his wife. Mother to mother. "Ben taught me that you stand up for who and what you believe in. That you stand up even if it means losing your friends. Or, in my case, even if it means losing money." I handed him the envelope. "Because, Mr. Washington, my son taught me that once you sell yourself out, you can never buy yourself back."
He tossed the envelope on the table.
"The contract is in there. Torn. I know it's only a symbolic gesture. But that's enough for me."
"And you think you're going to get away with this?"
"I just did."
On my way out, I heard Washington talking loudly about contracts working both ways and lawsuits.
I didn't care. God already sent my answer. Through Ben.
I drove straight to David's house. I wanted to apologize and to tell him, in person, that I walked away from Washington's job.
Max opened the door even before I knocked, and he didn't seem shocked to see me. He looked like he just tossed back about ten cups of espresso.
"You heard? Come in. Come in."
David sat on the sofa looking about five cups less tanked than Max. He was so fixated on whatever he was watching on the television that he barely glanced at me. But the intensity between David and Max seemed to charge the room with energy, as if they'd both been plugged in to a generator.
"Did I hear what?"
Max closed the door behind me. "One of the attackers has been identified as Sidney Washington Jr."
46
I had just left the Washingtons less than an hour ago, and the media already swarmed over the story that the son of the candidate for Congressman had been named as one of the young men responsible for the crime against David.
David stared at the picture of Sid Jr. on the television. "I almost feel sorry for the kid. Look who his role model has been."
I recognized the photograph as one I'd seen on Washington's desk. The one taken on their family vacation in the Bahamas. I was about to mention that when Max said, "If you didn't stop by because you heard this latest development, is everything okay? Not that you need a reason to be here, of course. When I saw you drive up, I thought maybe you'd talked to Gavin or—"
"No, I haven't talked to Gavin lately," I said and tried to sound less concerned than I felt about not hearing from him. "I wanted to talk to you both, but this news about Washington's son . . . I'm stunned. Did he turn himself in? What happened?"
Max looked at David. "I know you're worn out telling this story, do you want me to explain?"
"Sure, go ahead." David picked up the remote and turned off the television. "I don't need to watch that. I lived it," he said quietly.
"A week or so ago, David identified one of his attackers. He knew he'd seen him before that day, but couldn't make the connection as to where. I shouldn't call him a kid. I think Tim is almost 23. Anyway, David and Gavin were going through a list of agents, and that's when David remembered that he was the son of a real estate agent David had worked with," Max explained.
"That's disturbing," I said. "This kid's mother knew you?"
"Wait," David interjected before Max could answer. "I've worked with his mother Nancy for over a year. She's devastated. I don't want you to think he acted out of some homophobic influence from her."
"So, how did he know you're gay? I don't get it. Why did he target you?"
"Actually," Max said, "I'm the one Nancy knew first because we'd worked together on a few local committees for revitalizing neighborhoods. And she knew that David and I had started seeing each other."
I looked at David, then Max. "Forgive me for how this is going to sound, but why David, why not you?"
Max shook his head gently, "I forgive you, and I wish it had been me instead." He looked over at David, and there was no mistaking the depth of that truth.
"Honestly," David continued, "I was an easier target. Pretend to be clients, ask to see a house. No one else is there. The house is empty." He rubbed his hand over the bandaging covering his elbow. "It makes sense. Sick. But logical."
"So, to connect the dots . . . this kid and some of his friends, one of whom was Sidney, took up gay bashing as a mission. Mostly a drunken mission," Max said. "They just hated gays, they said. Hated hearing about gay rights. Hated hearing about Gay Pride marches . . . They didn't seem to need too much beyond that."
"I did come here to talk to you both, but if you wouldn't mind, Max, I'd like to talk to David alone for a while."
"Of course not. I have to make a run to the cleaners and make sure the plants at my house aren't on life support. Call me when you're finished," Max said, and on his way out, passed David sitting on the sofa, and patted him on the shoulder. "Let me know if you need me to pick anything up while I'm out."
"Thanks. We'll see you soon."
I moved the chair so I could sit facing David. "First, please forgive me for being so concerned about money that I put it before my relationship with you. You know I'm not exactly a regular passenger on the God train, so this trusting business is new to me. And despite what you and Julie and even Vince would say about faith, it's difficult to have it when so much else in my life hadn't gone the way I planned. But, the reason I drove here today was to tell you that I canceled my contract with Sidney Washington."
David's expression softened. "Really? The Washingtons have had one heck of a day . . ."
I nodded. "Yes, they have."
"I know you felt trapped, that you were trying to do what you thought was best for you and Ben. It didn't mean I liked it or that it didn't hurt," David shared.
"Well, for a long time, I was angry because you'd kept who you were a secret for so long. I mean, I thought we were close. So to be told that you hid from me who you really are, I felt like you'd deceived me. It made me wonder if maybe we weren't as close as I thought we were."
"I'm not proud of that. I should have told you sooner. I should have told myself sooner. Eventually, I was so tired of hating myself, that I needed to just tell you the truth when I did because I might have talked myself back into the lie."
"I understand. Because here's the thing: you weren't the only person keeping a secret."
At that moment I wanted to suck those words in like my vacuum swallowed all those tiny bugs. But the disbelief that shadowed my brother's face flipped the switch.
"I realize now I measured you against a code I wasn't willing to use against myself. When you first told me, I was more worried about being the sister of a gay brother than your being gay. I didn't know what people would think of me. I didn't want people to know because I thought it might affect my business. And, I just didn't know if I could accept this man in your life or even be with you, him, your friends without feeling weird."
If his face was a map, I would be lost. I couldn't read his expression, and he wouldn't steer for me. Time to mov
e forward with the truth. "I didn't tell you that Harrison and I started having sex long before we were married. I'm bashing unwed moms and stocking early pregnancy tests because we had so many close calls. Or that after he died, I hid books in my bedroom so I could read about the romance and sex I wasn't having. . . . And God is teaching me, maybe in very small steps, that He is the final judge, not me. And that my job, for as long as I am here, is to reach out and love. There's still so much I'm struggling with, but I wouldn't want to risk losing you or your never hearing me say I love you."
When Max returned, I told him and David the story of how Ben taught me what it means to stand up for those you love. I detailed the Washington meeting at the restaurant and my decision to walk away from the job.
"So, the two of you may be stuck with Ben and me for a while if the catering jobs start dwindling."
"Maybe not," said Max. "While you and David were talking, I made a few phone calls. I think I found a way for you to replace the money you would have earned with Washington."
"You're running for office?" That would be an interesting campaign.
He looked at David, shook his head, and said to me, "No. That would be a disaster second only to Katrina. This is much better."
"Good, because anything is going to beat nothing," I said.
"I've been told I can offer you a contract to cater a fundraiser for Project Lazarus. I don't know if you're familiar with it, but it's the oldest and largest agency in the New Orleans area providing housing and assisted living to people with AIDS. It's yours if you want it."
"Want it? Want it? I can't believe they want me. Thank you. Thank you." I threw my arms around Max and squeezed.
"You're welcome. Promise me though you won't get freaked out knowing you're going to be in a mishmash of gay and straight people."
"I promise to be on my best behavior," I said, then turned around and hugged my brother.
The Edge of Grace Page 26
