“Maybe I should just stay out of the picture till they're gone,” he said firmly, growing more resolute by the minute, and Sylvia looked hurt, angry, and shocked.
“Let me get this straight here,” she said through clenched teeth. “You don't want to meet my children, and you don't want to see me till they leave. Is that it? Did I get that right?”
“Yes, you did. You can come over to see me at the studio whenever you want.”
“Fuck that,” she said, as she strode nervously across the room and began to pace. “I'm not going to be in a relationship with a man who won't even meet my kids. They're wonderful children, and I love them. And I also love you. They're part of me, Gray. You don't even know who I am until you know them too.”
“Yes, I do. And I love you too,” he said, looking more than a little panicked. He hadn't expected her reaction to be so extreme. “But I'm not going to be forced into a situation I know I can't handle. I can't deal with that level of commitment. I just can't. I know myself. I've never wanted kids of my own, and I don't want anyone else's either.”
“Then you should be going out with a woman who has no kids.”
“Maybe so,” he said, staring at his feet.
“Just when did you decide all this?” She was horrified by everything he'd said. She had never expected him to be as unreasonable as this.
“As soon as you told me they were coming back here for Christmas. I just figured I'd bow out gracefully for a few weeks.”
“And what about next summer? You don't come to Europe with me either?” She liked having time alone with them, but his reasons for it struck her as ridiculous, and even mean. He wasn't willing to make any effort whatsoever to meet her kids, or be part of her life, an important part of her life, in her eyes. “I wanted you to come skiing with us,” she said, looking disappointed. She had rented a beautiful house for them in Vermont.
“I don't ski.” He remained unconvinced.
“Neither do I. But they do. And we always have a nice time together.”
“You will this year too. I just won't be there.”
“You're a shit!” she said, stormed into the bedroom, and slammed the door. And when she came out two hours later, he had gone back to his studio, to spend the night there for the first time in three months. It was a terrible situation, and when she called him, he said he was working and didn't want to talk.
“Fuck,” she said to herself, and paced some more. She had no idea how to win him over. She knew how bad his childhood had been, and how insane his family was. He had told her early on that family life was not for him. She just hadn't expected him to take it to these extremes. He didn't even want to see them. He only wanted her. She knew that if he remained firm on it, it would impact their relationship sooner rather than later. She wasn't sure whether to just let him be, and see if he'd relent on his own, or draw a line in the sand, and give him an ultimatum. Either way, she could lose him.
The Three Musketeers, as Sylvia now called them, met for dinner in a Chinese restaurant two weeks before Christmas. All of them were stressed and busy. Charlie said he had a million things to do for the foundation before he left on the boat. Adam's clients were all going nuts, and he was going to Vegas for the title fight of one of his clients that weekend. And Gray just looked depressed.
“So how are the lovebirds?” Charlie teased him as they started dinner. Gray just shook his head. “What does that mean?”
“It means Sylvia and I are barely speaking to each other. It's been a tough couple of weeks since Thanksgiving.”
“What happened?” Charlie looked stunned. “You two looked fine when I was there.” They looked better than fine. They were terrific.
“I don't do kids.”
“I know that.” Charlie smiled. “That's Adam's department. Twenty-two-year-olds. Sylvia is adorable, but she's no kid.”
“No, but she has kids. And I don't want to meet them. They're coming in for Christmas, and I just can't go there. I can't. It makes me nuts. Every time I get around families, it makes me nervous. I feel psychotic. I get depressed. I don't want to meet her kids. I love her, not her children.”
“Oh, shit. And what's she saying about that?” Charlie looked worried.
“Not much. She's pissed. I guess she's hurt. She isn't saying it, but I get the feeling that if I don't back down, it's going to be over with us, and I'm not backing down. I have to respect myself. I have limitations. I have issues. I grew up in the Addams Family on LSD. My sister is a Buddhist nun. My brother is a Navajo I haven't seen in a million years, and don't want to. And both my parents were head cases. I am allergic to families.”
“Even hers?” Charlie tested the waters.
“Even hers,” Gray confirmed. “They're going to Vermont after Christmas,” he said as though they were going by rocket ship to another planet. “To ski.” He made the electric chair sound more appealing.
“You might have fun.”
“No, I won't. They're probably not as nice as she thinks. Even if they are, I have my own problems. I don't want to be involved with her family, only with her.” But he also knew that if he stuck to that, he might blow the deal. Gray felt he had no choice, and Charlie felt sorry for them both. He knew how much it must mean to her. She was so proud of her kids. And also in love with Gray.
“I hope you guys work it out,” Charlie said gently. “It would be a shame if you don't.” Gray had been so much happier since he'd been with her. And then he told him and Adam about Carole. “I took your advice,” he said proudly, and then added, “I hope you take mine, and compromise a little. I think you'll be sorry later if you don't.”
“I'm sure I will,” Gray said, looking resigned. He was fully prepared to pay the price for his decision, and lose her if he had to, rather than meet or get involved with her children.
“I have a little bit of news,” Adam said shyly, as the other two looked at him. “Remember Maggie, from the Vana concert?” He reminded Charlie, and he nodded. “She just moved in.” He looked half-proud and half-embarrassed as the other two stared at him.
“She what?” Charlie asked him. He remembered how she had looked that night, and feeling sorry for her. She had seemed like a nice girl and something of a lost soul. “You? Mr. I'll-never-get-tied-down-again-I-have-to-have-my-freedom-and-a-million-women? How did that happen?” She hadn't looked like a conniver to him, but who knew? She had done something to turn him around, whatever it was.
“She's taking pre-law classes at night school, and I figured I could help her with her papers,” he said, trying to sound casual, and the other two guffawed, hooted, and jeered.
“Try that on someone else.”
“All right, all right…I really like her… love her… what do I know? One minute we were dating, and the next thing I knew, I didn't want her out of my sight. I haven't told her yet, but I'm taking her to Vegas this weekend. She's never been.” She hadn't been anywhere, and he was planning to change that soon.
“Have you told her about the boat?” Charlie asked him. Adam was flying to St. Barts to meet Charlie on the boat on December 26, as he did every year, after he spent Christmas with his kids.
Adam shook his head, trying to look unconcerned. “I thought I'd tell her after this weekend.” He was hoping that she'd be so thrilled after the weekend that she wouldn't make a fuss about the boat. “I can't change everything. We've been doing that trip for ten years. Have you told Carole?”
“No, but I will. I don't do holidays,” Charlie said firmly.
“I don't do kids,” Gray said just as firmly.
“Do you want to come to St. Barts with us?” Charlie suggested. “If you're not going to be with Sylvia over the holidays, you might as well.”
“I don't do the Caribbean either,” he said sheepishly, and then laughed at himself. “Christ, among the three of us, we have enough baggage to start an airline.” But you didn't get to where they were in life, and come the long, hard road they had, without paying a price for it. They ha
d all paid their dues.
“I don't do marriage,” Adam added with a grin.
“Tell me that this time next year,” Charlie said, laughing at him. “Shit, you're the last person on the planet I would have expected to be living with a woman. What happened to all the others that you always juggle so expertly?” He was curious about it. Adam had never had less than four women going at once, often five, sometimes six in a good week. And once, seven.
“I gave them up for her.” He looked sheepish. “I didn't want her doing the same thing to me. I thought she was. It turned out she was going to college. I thought there was another guy. To be honest, it nearly drove me insane. And then I realized I was in love with her. I like living with her.”
“I'm only staying with Sylvia,” Gray informed them. “I'm still not living with her.” He sounded proud that he hadn't given in.
“That just means that your clothes are all over the city and you never have the right shoes in the right apartment,” Adam translated for him. “And you're not going to be 'staying' with her either, if you don't meet her kids. Or at least that's my guess. I think that's a biggie for her. It would be for me too. I would have a fit if the woman in my life refused to meet my kids. It would be a deal-breaker for me.” It was insight for Gray, but he still shook his head.
“Have your kids met Maggie?” Charlie asked Adam with interest.
“Not yet. But they will. Probably before the holidays. I don't do mothers anymore either, by the way. Or at least I didn't on Thanksgiving. I went out to my parents', and I was sitting there listening to all the same bullshit getting dumped on me. I got up and walked out before lunch. I thought my mother would have a stroke if I ever did that, but she didn't. Actually, she's been very polite since then, whenever I call.”
“What did your father say?” Gray asked.
“He fell asleep.”
The rest of their dinner was uneventful. They talked politics, business, investments, art for Gray's sake. He was having a show in April, but they had already sold three of his paintings that they'd hung in the gallery in the meantime. Sylvia had done a wonderful thing when she opened that door for him, and he was grateful to her, but not grateful enough to meet her kids. Some things he just couldn't do. And Adam and Charlie talked about how excited they were about spending two weeks on the Blue Moon. They encouraged Gray again to join them, but he wouldn't. He said he had a lot of work to do to get ready for his show.
As usual, they were the last to leave the restaurant, and had had a fair amount to drink. None of them drank unduly on his own, but once together, all bets were off, and they let it rip.
Gray went back to his apartment that night. Maggie was asleep when Adam got in, and Charlie went home, smiling to himself thinking about the weeks he was about to spend on his boat. He was leaving four days before Christmas. It was the perfect way for him to pretend that Christmas did not exist.
21
ADAM TOLD MAGGIE ABOUT THE WEEKEND IN LAS Vegas the following morning, and she was thrilled. She had the weekend off from work anyway, and she had to do a paper, but she said she'd take her books with her and do it there whenever Adam was busy. She threw her arms around his neck and couldn't believe her good fortune. They were flying there on his plane.
And then she turned to him with a look of panic.
“What'll I wear?” Now that she was living with him, she no longer had access to her roommates' wardrobes, but they wouldn't have had anything appropriate anyway. Adam had already thought of it, smiled, and tossed a credit card at her.
“Go shopping,” he said generously, and she stood staring at it for a minute, and then handed it back to him.
“I can't do that,” she said sadly. “I may be poor, but I'm not cheap.” She knew that other women had done that to him before her, and no matter what happened, she knew she never would. She'd make her own money one day. And in the meantime, she managed on what she had, which was the salary and tips she earned at Pier 92. “Thanks, sweetheart. I'll figure out something.” He knew she would, but his heart always ached for her. Her life was so much harder than his, and always had been. He wanted to help her more than he did, and she never let him. But he respected her for it. She was an entirely different breed from any of the women he had known.
They were leaving for Vegas on Friday afternoon, and she was so excited she could hardly stand it. She threw her arms around his neck, and thanked him. He loved doing things like that for her. He was looking forward to showing her around, and making it special for her. He wanted to make up to her for all the hard times she'd had, and she was always grateful to him, and never took anything for granted. The following weekend, after the trip to Las Vegas, he told her he wanted her to celebrate Chanukah with him and his kids. He told his mother they wouldn't be there. Times had finally changed.
When Charlie picked Carole up to go to the debutante cotillion, she was dressed and waiting for him. She took his breath away when he saw her walking toward him. She was wearing a pink satin dress and silver high-heeled sandals, with her hair in an elegant French twist. She had borrowed a white mink jacket from her mother, and bought the dress at Bergdorf's. She hadn't been there in years. She was wearing diamond earrings and a diamond bracelet that had been her grandmother's, and she carried a small silver purse and long white kid gloves.
For a long, long moment, Charlie just stood there and stared. He was wearing white tie and tails. They made a spectacular-looking couple. Carole looked like a cross between Grace Kelly and Uma Thurman, with a dash of Michelle Pfeiffer thrown in. And Charlie was somewhere between Gary Cooper and Cary Grant.
Heads turned as they walked into the ballroom at the Waldorf-Astoria, and Carole looked absolutely regal. It was a far cry from the woman he'd met in blue jeans and Nikes at the center, or the green face and wig on Halloween. But the best part was that he loved all three sides of her. It was fun being out with her in public, and seeing her all dressed up.
They went through the receiving line and met all the debs, and Carole reminisced sotto voce about her own presentation there. She said she had been scared to death, but had fun in the end, in spite of herself.
“I'll bet you were gorgeous,” he said with an admiring look. “But even more so now. You look absolutely beautiful tonight,” he said, and meant it, as he whirled her around the dance floor in a slow waltz. He was an exquisite dancer, and so was she. All their early life and training showed its colors at moments like that, dancing school, deb parties, all the things that Carole shunned and tried to forget now. But tonight she was back in her old world, though just for a brief visit. Charlie knew he wouldn't get her to do things like that often, and he didn't mind. He was somewhat tired of them himself. He just liked having the option to do them now and then.
They ran into her parents shortly before dinner. Carole pointed them out to him, and they made their way politely to her parents' table. They were sitting among the scions of New York, and her father stood up as soon as he saw them. He was a tall distinguished man and looked a lot like Carole. He held out a hand to Charlie when she introduced them, and his face looked as though it had been carved from ice. Charlie had met him years before, but he doubted that the older man recalled.
“I knew your father,” Arthur Van Horn said grimly. “We were at Andover together. I was very sorry to hear about what happened. It was a tragic loss.” It was not a happy topic for Charlie, and Carole tried to get him off the subject. Her father had a way of casting a pall on everything, it was just the way he was. She also introduced him to her mother, who sat in glacial silence, shook his hand, nodded, and turned around. And that was it. Carole and Charlie went back to their table and then danced some more before they sat down.
“Well, that was a little daunting,” Charlie admitted, as Carole laughed. Their greeting had been typical of her parents, and had nothing to do with him.
“For them, that was warm.” They were caricatures of the upper class to which they belonged. “I don't think my mother ever h
ugged or kissed me. She always walked into the nursery, as she referred to it, looking as though she was visiting animals in the zoo, and was afraid she'd be attacked if she stuck around, so she didn't. I never saw her for more than five minutes. If I ever have kids, I'm going to lie on the floor with them, get dirty, and hug and kiss them till they scream.”
“My mother was like that, the way you just described wanting to be with yours.” It made it that much harder for him when she died. She had always told him how much she loved him, as did Ellen. His father had been his mentor and best friend until he died. His hero. It had been a lot to lose. His whole world, in fact. He remembered his father as a happy, debonair man who looked like Clark Gable, and loved yachts. It was probably why Charlie had bought one in honor of him, when they died. He wanted to have boats that his father would have approved of, and commented to Carole how odd it was that those things followed one into adulthood, in fact all one's life.
“I guess we never get over wanting to please our parents,” he said as they sat down for dinner.
The evening was fun for both of them, the girls were pretty, the moments tender to watch. The girls danced first with their fathers, holding their bouquets, and wearing elaborate white gowns. It was almost like a wedding, and once upon a time it had been the precursor to that. Debutantes had been presented to society in order to find husbands. Now the girls just had fun, and at the end of the evening changed into miniskirts and went to discos with their friends.
“Technically, I disapprove of it,” Carole admitted to him, “and everything it stands for. But the truth is, it doesn't mean much, it doesn't hurt anyone. It's not PC, but the kids seem to have a good time. So why not?” He was relieved that she saw it that way, and he looked at her again with pleasure, as they drove back to her house afterward in the limo he had rented for the occasion. The evening had been very grand, and they had both enjoyed it. “Thank you for taking me.” She smiled at him, as he leaned over and kissed her. He thought she was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen, and he was proud to be with her, although he'd been slightly horrified by her parents. He couldn't imagine growing up with two people like that. It amazed him that she was normal, and grateful that she was not like them. She was warm and kind and compassionate, gentle where they were stiff, and easy to be with. She was smiling at him happily as they approached her house. “I can hardly wait to spend Christmas with you.” She smiled at him. “I love the holidays. I thought I'd buy my tree tomorrow, and we can decorate it.” He looked at her then as though he had been slapped, and there was a strange awkward moment between them. He knew he had to say something now. If he didn't, he was a liar. He had to tell her the truth, just as he had told her, when they got back together, that he expected it of her.
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