London Undone

by Nan Higgins

  “Me too.” He paused. “I’m glad Reggie was able to get me in at Compass.”

  “Wait. Reggie? You met Reggie before the night you came home with us?”

  “Yeah,” he said, seeming surprised. “You didn’t know? I thought that’s why I came home with you guys, because she’d met me before. She even came to Compass a couple times to say hi and check on me.”

  Waves of confusion, disbelief, and anger washed over her, and in those waves, she couldn’t catch her breath. What did this mean? And why hadn’t Reggie said anything?

  “London?” His voice brought her back into the moment. “You okay?”

  “Oh, honey, I’m an ass, I’m sorry. I should be asking you that question.”

  He shrugged. “I’m still here.”

  “I can’t tell you how grateful I am for that.”

  “Can I ask you something?”

  “Of course. Anything.”

  He picked up his paintbrush and fidgeted with it. “Remember when you told me the story of your first Christmas without your family and how hard it was?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, how did that get easier? How did you get over it?”

  She thought for a moment. “Time and space from a traumatic event works some pretty major miracles. This will be my nineteenth Christmas since that happened, so you might say I’ve had some practice doing the holidays without them.”

  “Okay. What else?”

  “Therapy has helped me a lot. It’s helped me learn about distinguishing between things that are and are not within my control. I can’t control the way my family reacted to who I am, and I’ve had to learn to let that go. And saying that makes it sound easy, which it’s not. Simple, yes; easy, no. I can control how kind and forgiving I am to myself, and to others. I can control the levels at which I accept and love myself.”

  He nodded, his lips pressed together.

  “And I’ve built a family of my own, as you’ve seen.” Her voice wavered, and she had to pause for a moment. It was Tate who’d helped her through those first few Christmases when it was just the two of them. She glanced at the stolen tree and wiped a few tears away. Her heart ached with missing him. “I’ve made new traditions with people I love and who love me. That makes a big difference. It’s hard for you now because you don’t have the same luxury at your age to decide who’s going to be your family. But someday you will, and I hope, when you get there, you won’t accept less than people who embrace all that you are and love you without condition or apology. Those are the kinds of people who deserve to be your family. You’ll get there.”

  “I hope so,” he said, resting his head on her shoulder. They sat like that for several minutes. London got up and made some hot cocoa, and they resumed their art project almost as if there’d been no interruption. That companionable silence had been replaced with an uneasy one, though, and try as they might, they couldn’t go back to the contented atmosphere they’d started with.

  London wondered if she’d done the right thing asking Q about the circumstances surrounding getting kicked out of his parents’ house. She watched as he focused on one of the cards, his tongue stuck out while he concentrated on painting. He’d been through so much, and she worried about him holding all those bad memories inside. She knew all too well how toxic emotions had a tendency to fester inside a soul, and she didn’t want Quentin to lose even a tiny bit of himself to that.

  She looked back over at the tree and thought of Tate. Lots of people believed that their loved ones watched over them after they died and that a part of them lived on, aware of earthly goings on. London had never thought much about it before, but now, she desperately wanted to believe that was true for Tate. If you’re there, help me figure out what’s best for this little boy. I don’t know how to do this without you.

  * * *

  Betty called and asked if they’d like to come over for dinner that night.

  “Sure. Did you ask Reggie too?”

  “I texted her, and she said it was fine but to check with you.”

  “Sounds good.” London had an idea. “Betty, would it be okay if we left Quentin with you for an hour or so after dinner?”

  “Of course, darlin’. Is everything all right?”

  “Yes,” she fibbed. “We just have some last-minute Christmas shopping to do, shopping we can’t do with him around.”

  “I understand. That sweet boy. He deserves a beautiful Christmas after everything he’s been through.”

  “I agree. Can we bring anything tonight?”

  “Oh, if you’d like to pick up something for dessert, that would be wonderful.”

  “Will do.”

  Several hours later, Reggie drove the three of them to her childhood house on Sumner Street. When they arrived, Herb was shoveling the walkway to the door. Quentin ran up to him. “Why don’t you let me help you?” Quentin asked.

  Herb rested the base of the shovel in the small snow mound next to the walkway and clasped his hands around the handle. “I’ll tell you what, if you finish the walkway, I’ll pay you. How does twenty dollars sound?”

  Quentin laughed. “It sounds like twenty too much for a job I offered to do for free.”

  “Well, that’s my final offer, my good man, although your impertinence does tempt me to go up to twenty-five.”

  “Okay, okay.” Quentin held his hands up, palms out. “You’ve got a deal.”

  “Good.” Herb handed over the shovel. “And when you’re done, just set the shovel over by the garage. Then go over and water the plants across the street like you did the other day.” He fished around in his coat pocket, pulled out a key, and handed it to Q. “Betty’s making hot cocoa, and we’ll have a cup waiting for you when you get back.”

  “Oh, Mama’s cocoa,” Reggie said. “I’m ready for my cup!”

  “Well, come on in.”

  London looked out the front door at Quentin, already hard at work clearing the sidewalk, before following the others into the kitchen. “It smells good in here.” She set the apple pie they’d purchased from Giant Eagle on the counter. “I didn’t even bother to ask what was for dinner because I know whatever Betty makes is going to be good.”

  Betty hugged her. “Sweet-talking me about my cooking always was the way to my heart. It’s just a good old-fashioned pot roast.”

  “Yum.” Reggie had a marshmallow mustache from taking a large gulp of cocoa. “I can’t wait for Q to try this.”

  “He’ll love it,” Herb said. “Although I’d hate to meet the monster who didn’t like your mama’s hot cocoa.”

  Betty chuckled. “Oh, listen to the three of you. This is how you get out of helping me in the kitchen.”

  “Yes, but it’s all true.” London grinned.

  Nothing could turn her mood around like spending time with Herb and Betty. She’d been hollow with the absence of Tate today and had been unable to shake the feeling that she was on the verge of being lost, of floating away from herself and her life like a balloon someone neglected to tie securely to a child’s wrist. Ten minutes with Reggie’s parents brought her firmly back to the ground, and the earth felt solid under her feet again.

  “So, whose plants is Quentin watering?” Reggie asked.

  “The Smiths are spending another winter in Florida. Although, last I heard from them, they might be moving there for good.”

  “Wow,” Reggie said. “They’ve been here since before we moved in, haven’t they?”

  “Yes, but their kids grew up and moved away, and they really enjoy themselves down there. Looks like they’ll come back in the spring to put their house on the market, and when it sells, that will be that.”

  They heard the front door open and Quentin stomping the snow off his boots. Betty poured a fresh cup of cocoa, adding some marshmallows and setting it on the table at the seat beside Reggie just as Quentin entered the kitchen.

  “Quentin!” Betty rushed over to squeeze him to her. “You just get more handsome all the time.”

&nbs
p; Quentin smiled and thanked her. He was almost as tall as the tiny woman. Has he grown since he came to live with us? It didn’t seem possible, and yet, she was sure he hadn’t been this tall last time they saw Betty and Herb.

  Soon, they all sat down to a dinner of Betty’s pot roast. After they’d passed the serving dishes around, poured the water, soda, and wine, and Quentin led them in a prayer at Betty’s request, they began to eat.

  “Oh,” Betty said, turning to Reggie and London, “when you go out to run your errands tonight, I wondered if it’s all right if we take Quentin to look at Christmas lights. If you think you’d like that, Quentin?”

  “I’d love it!”

  “Our errands?” Reggie stopped with a forkful of roast beef and carrots halfway to her mouth.

  “Yeah,” London said. “I let your parents know we have some last-minute Christmas errands to run, and they said they’d like to hang out with Q while we go.” She held her breath and hoped that Reggie would go with it without a fuss. If she had to come clean with Reg, she would, but she preferred to go into the evening without any preconceived ideas.

  Reggie looked at her with blank eyes, then shrugged and put her food in her mouth. After dinner, Herb and Quentin went to the living room to watch television. Betty looked in on them on her way to the kitchen where London and Reggie were loading the dishwasher.

  “He just loves that little boy,” Betty said. “We both do.”

  “He’s easy to love,” Reggie said.

  “That he is. Now, you girls go along. You’ve cleared most of the dishes, and I can do the rest.”

  “Are you sure?” London asked.

  “Of course. Get on out of here. Quentin is in good hands until you get back.”

  When they stepped out on the front porch, Reggie said, “I didn’t remember us having any errands to run tonight.”

  “That’s because I made it up.” London grabbed the keys from Reggie’s gloved hand. “I’ll drive.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  “What are we doing here?” Reggie asked. They sat in the Compass parking lot.

  “We have a meeting with Joan.” She stepped out of the car, bent over, and peered at Reggie, who was still sitting inside. “Coming?”

  Reggie had given up trying to guess where they were going less than five minutes into the ride.

  “You’ll know once we’re there,” London had said before turning the radio up and singing along with the newest song from Tegan & Sara.

  They stepped inside, warm air surrounding them in the small vestibule. They hung up their coats and went toward Joan’s office. On the way, they bumped into several kids, said hi to Bernadette and Jacob, and waved at Michael and Doris who were training newbies in the kitchen. Finally, they reached the office and found Joan reading through some papers at her desk. London knocked on the heavy wood of the door frame, and Joan looked up.

  “Hello.” She set down her papers. “Please come in.”

  Reggie and London filed in and took the same chairs as last time. It had been only a month ago, but it felt like a lifetime to London. She’d been so unsure and panicky about taking Q home. She couldn’t believe how quickly he’d become a part of her life, her family. This room suddenly seemed smaller, less daunting, as if forging her relationship with Quentin had made her larger.

  “How can I help you this evening?” Joan asked. “You were cryptic on the phone today, London.”

  “That seems to be the theme of the day,” Reggie said. “What’s this all about, babe?”

  London took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. For good measure, she did this two more times before she spoke. “I’d like to know the truth about Quentin.”

  Joan frowned. “I’m not sure I know what you mean. What is it you’d like to know?”

  London laced her fingers together and set her hands in her lap, “I found out from Quentin today that he met you,” London turned to Reggie, “on the night his parents kicked him out. In fact, he was dropped off at Stonewall, and you were the one who got him to Joan.” She paused, surveying the look of surprise on Reggie’s face; she relished it. Good, let her be surprised. I’m tired of being the only one blindsided by people’s secrets. “Why didn’t you tell me? If not when I started volunteering here, at least when we brought him home. Did you think it wouldn’t come up someday?”

  “I thought it would take longer than it did,” Reggie said. “I didn’t expect him to share so much so fast with you. I figured it would come out naturally, and I did plan to tell you, but I thought I had more time.”

  “I don’t understand. More time for what? Why didn’t you just tell me you knew him?”

  “Maybe I can help a little with this,” Joan said. “If I may?”

  “Please,” London said, and Reggie nodded.

  “It was clear, so many months ago when Regina brought Quentin here, that he was an incredibly special little boy. No child deserves to be cast out, as so many of the ones who come to us have been. But Quentin? He’s all sweetness. He’s not wild or rebellious or hard to handle; he’s just a compassionate, loving child.”

  “Okay,” London said. “I get all of that. But why the secrecy, Reg? Q said you came here to visit him a couple times, and the night we brought him home, you never mentioned it. You acted like that was the first night you met him, and I want to know why.”

  In all their years together, London had never known Reggie to lie, not even by omission, to her or to anyone else. It was one of the things she loved most, her inability to be anything but truthful. The question that had been in her mind since Quentin told her he already knew Reggie surfaced again. Why would she start now?

  “I just loved him,” Reggie said. “We’ve been talking for years about adopting, but I never got a firm answer from you. I knew if I begged, you might go through with it, but I didn’t want to beg. It shouldn’t be like that.”

  “What does adopting have to do with you meeting Quentin?” Moments after London said it, things added up in her head, and she gasped and stared. How foolish she’d been. Everyone else had seen this coming; everyone had known on some level that this was the plan. She hadn’t been able to get her mind around it because of what she knew—or thought she knew—about Reggie. Reggie, who was always honest and direct, hadn’t breathed a word about adoption, and so she hadn’t thought it was on the table. London didn’t know which was worse, realizing Reggie betrayed her in ways she never thought possible or how inexplicably stupid she had been about the whole situation.

  Joan stood. “Why don’t I give you two some time alone. I’ll go see the kids.” She slid around the desk and left, closing the door gently behind her.

  “London—”

  “Is that why you asked me to marry you?”

  “I asked you because I want you to be my wife. But, yes, it’s easier to adopt when the couple is married. Especially when it’s a lesbian couple.”

  London kneaded her forehead with her knuckles. “So, you met Q a few times, decided we should adopt him, and you and Joan concocted this whole plan together? This is why you steered me toward Compass when I became interested in marketing work? Did you know what was going to happen when we came here on Thanksgiving?” She’d just realized Reggie lied, and now she had to come to terms with the way she’d manipulated her. That hurt so much worse than the lies. London had spent her childhood and young adult life being manipulated by her parents and always felt as if her thoughts and emotions were being twisted in an attempt to get her to bend to their will. Never could she have imagined Reggie might be capable of something like that. Her head pounded, and her heart throbbed with this new knowledge.

  Reggie tried to speak and stuttered a few nonsensical words.

  “You did know. Jesus. You’ve been pulling my strings since September, and I’ve been the good little puppet, going along with every scene you’ve set up for me to perform in.”

  “It’s not like that.”

  “How is it, then?”

  “Please,” Reggie s
aid, “give me a moment to explain.”

  London crossed her arms. Six months ago, she would have gotten up and walked out, but they’d been through so much together recently. She was keenly aware of all the ways Reg had shown up for her, and all the concessions she’d made for their relationship, and for that reason alone, she stayed in her chair.

  “Like Joan said, the moment we met Q, we knew he was special. He made me think again about adoption, brought it back to the front of my mind. At first, even though he was the catalyst, it wasn’t even him I was thinking about. We’ve always talked about adopting a baby or a toddler, a child we could raise from the beginning who would only know us as parents.

  “At the same time, my birthday was coming…my fortieth birthday. I have my career, my finances, my friends, exactly as I want them. And I have you, but I wanted more with you and for us. I wanted you to be my wife. I wanted us to have a family. Suddenly, with my birthday looming over me, I just…”

  “You just what?”

  “I realized that I don’t have an unlimited amount of time to have the life I dreamed of. You and I have been together for six years, and I knew I wanted to marry you and have kids with you three weeks in. I thought you’d eventually come around, but all these years later, I wasn’t so sure. I’ve spent all this time giving you space to come to the same conclusions—that we would be married, with a family—and I realized you may not ever get there. And I decided to give you a nudge.”

  “A nudge.” The room swirled, and she clenched the armrests to steady herself.

  “Yes. I thought, I’d ask you to marry me, and if you said no, there’d be no harm done, you know? That if you said no, nothing would change, and we could just keep going as we had been because married or not, kids or not, we had a beautiful life.”

  “But when I said no, you left me.”

  “I wasn’t prepared for how much it would hurt. I wasn’t prepared for how brokenhearted I was when you turned me down.”

  London didn’t know what to say. She was sorry she’d hurt Reggie, but she’d already made all of her apologies for that, and besides, she was too furious about what she’d discovered tonight to feel sympathy right now. “So, steering me toward Compass. That was all a ruse to get me close to Quentin?”