Heart's Desire

by Laura Pedersen

  Gil and Doris have arranged to meet me at an Indian restaurant just down the street from his new place, which I guess is not so new anymore, even though it will never really seem like his home to me. A young woman wearing a brightly colored sari escorts me to their table.

  Gil rises and gives me a full-sized hug. His wrist is out of the cast and he looks okay, though perhaps a bit somber and slightly thinner. However, a big smile crosses his face when I surprise him by pulling his baseball glove out of my backpack.

  Doris is in her mid-thirties, maybe a year or two younger than Gil, wearing a flowered dress with two strands of pearls, looking very proper and midwestern. She has short brown hair, hazel eyes, and seagull-shaped eyebrows that appear to have been penciled in about an inch above and to the right of the originals.

  “Sweetheart,” Gil says, turning to Doris, “this is Hallie.”

  “It’s wonderful to finally meet you, Hallie. Gilbert has told me so much about you that I feel as if we already know each other.” She speaks in a cheerful Kentucky drawl that sounds slightly fake, at least the cheerful part does. Her smile could power all of downtown Cleveland, and perhaps one or two suburbs, depending on whether or not air conditioners are in use.

  I go to shake her hand but she uses the contact as an opportunity to reel me in for a big hug like I’m her partner at a square dance. There’s nothing to do but hug back and try not to burp.

  Despite the fact that Doris has a shapely figure and only a few discernible lines (though they appear to be more a result of cracks in her pancake makeup than the onset of old age), she seems the older of the two. I don’t know if it’s the way she calls him “dear” like in those 1950s movies that Bernard is always watching, or because she wipes down everyone’s silverware with her napkin.

  Obviously they’ve been dating a lot, because Doris points to all of Gil’s favorite dishes on the menu, as if her happiness depends on him having the perfect meal. Then she asks me about school and if I like to ride horses.

  “I’ve bet on a lot more horses than I’ve ridden,” I tell her truthfully.

  “Oh, what an interesting hobby. Did you know that Gilbert’s family once ran the best horse-breeding farm in all of Kentucky?” She affectionately squeezes his arm. “Isn’t that right, dear?”

  “Maybe it was one of the top ten,” Gil says modestly.

  Of course I knew that! I only lived with him for almost a year— longer than she’s been dating him! “Actually, I did,” I say, trying to sound polite and yet at the same time inform Doris that she doesn’t know more about Gilbert than everyone else in the world.

  “Maybe after we’re married we’ll have some horses and you can come over and ride,” suggests Doris.

  “Married?” I look at her hand, and sure enough, there’s the diamond ring.

  “I didn’t want to tell you over the phone,” Gil says apologetically. In other words, he probably didn’t want to tell me while Bernard was listening in.

  Gil and Doris, Bernard and Melik—it’s all so wrong. I want my adopted parents back! But I try to appear happy for them. Raising my Coke to toast their engagement, I say, “Oh, well, then congratulations!” But I do it too fast and some cola spills onto the tablecloth and down my arm. “Excuse me, but I have to go to the ladies’ room.”

  I rush to the back of the restaurant and grab the receiver off the pay phone. But who am I going to call? Bernard might stick his head into the bread machine. No, I’d tell him in person, with trained professionals standing by. Craig? What is he supposed to do. Olivia? She’ll just say, “Que sera, sera.” I’ll have to deal with this one on my own. And suddenly I have an idea of how to do exactly that.

  When I return to the table Doris charges ahead with her sunny conversation. “And what about you, Hallie? Do you have a boyfriend?”

  “Oh sure,” I say as if my phone rings so much that I’ve worn out two answering machines just in the past week. “Tons of them. Why be tied down to one person?”

  “I suppose not, at your age,” agrees Doris. “But in a few years you may find yourself thinking about settling down and starting a family.” She automatically scrunches closer to Gil in the booth and I’m scared to look down for fear that she may be initiating a game of kneesies under the table.

  “Maybe,” I say. “But I feel as if I have two perfectly good families already—my own and the Stocktons. Hey Gil, remember the time Bernard put the earrings on while we were having breakfast and the coffee sprayed out of your nose and all over the tablecloth?”

  But Gil is shaking his head from side to side indicating that this would not be a good thing to recollect right now. He moves his eyes toward Doris and I think I get his drift. However, I’m suddenly curious as to exactly how much of Gil’s old life Doris knows about. If I really wanted to be evil I could call her up at home and tell her. Or else anonymously send her the picture of Bernard and Gil dressed up as Antony and Cleopatra.

  After dinner we drop Doris off at her town house. At first I think it’s rather odd that she doesn’t stay over; however, Gil explains that Doris leaves for her job as a bookkeeper early in the morning. He invites me back to his place and I’m surprised to find that he still hasn’t unpacked. But I suppose that soon enough he and Doris will be buying a house together, and so why bother.

  “How is everyone back in Cosgrove?” Gil finally asks. “Is Craig home for the summer?”

  “Just for a few weeks, but he’s working on building a pond over at the house, and so I guess I’ll see him a lot.” I feel a sudden rush of excitement talking about Craig. “It’s a wild pond—there are going to be lily pads and fish and even lights for at night!”

  “So Bernard finally went ahead with the pond.” Gil says this a bit regretfully, I think, as if he’s fondly recalling the many nest-building projects that were constantly under way.

  “He has a new boyfriend.” I say this casually and pretend to look over at the pole lamp but keep a careful eye out for any reaction from Gil. “He’s a rug dealer, and so of course they have a lot in common.”

  “I see,” Gil appears interested, but not necessarily in a happy sort of way, more like he’s listening to bad test results from a doctor’s office.

  “He loves Bernard’s cooking, but then who wouldn’t?” I begin to lay it on thick. “And they go to lots of movies together. Melik, that’s his name, he’s very knowledgeable about foreign films.” I’m careful not to mention the recent adoption trauma.

  “Oh, Melik, is it? No wonder I haven’t heard from Bernard in a while. Does this Melik—I mean, is he . . . what does he look like?”

  “He’s Turkish, with dark shiny hair and these really gorgeous eyes. I figure he’s in his late twenties, and in nice shape, too. I guess you get pretty good muscles from lifting all those rugs.” I laugh as if this is a joke. But Gil looks really depressed. So I take this as my cue to continue.

  “Gosh, he missed you like crazy at first. I was really worried about him. Same with Olivia. But now he’s back to his usual happy self. Brandt installed a computer down at the shop so, believe it or not, he actually sells merchandise online. And he finally bought one of those grills that you set up on top of the kitchen stove. It has cast-iron construction for superior heat retention and distribution,” I quote directly from the manual.

  It’s hard to tell whether it’s the strain of the engagement or the new grill that does the trick, but it’s at this moment that I know Gil is going to fall right into line with my plan.

  Chapter Fifty-three

  WHEN I ARRIVE BACK FROM CLEVELAND, THE DOWNSTAIRS lights are still on and so I assume that Bernard is waiting in the living room to ambush me. The wreckage from Rocky’s rampage has been more or less tidied up, aside from a few pieces that were thrown away or sent out for restoration. But Bernard certainly hasn’t forgiven him. Not only does he have the chimp on probation, he’s been giving Rocky the silent treatment as well.

  It turns out to be Olivia, who’s reading a book in the living room
while awaiting my arrival, and that Bernard went upstairs to bed after returning from the movies. And Olivia’s not there because she’s interested in being the first to get the latest gossip on Gil, either.

  “I’m afraid the Kunckle situation is going to be more difficult to resolve than I initially thought,” she confides in me. “Most of the lawyers with whom the Judge used to work have since retired. And the only one remaining whose legal expertise I respect attempted to get me in a clinch this afternoon, the crazy old fool.”

  “Sorry to hear that.” However, I don’t know if I agree that he’s crazy, since Olivia is attractive, fun, and sexy. After her husband died, a lot of men in town tried to date her. In fact, if I didn’t like Olivia so much, I’d be jealous that she has so many admirers and a steady boyfriend, while I’ve been spending most nights playing hearts against the computer.

  “Oh, if only the Judge were still down at the courthouse,” says Olivia. “He would have known exactly how to fix this mess!”

  “What are you two witches whispering about down there?” Bernard’s voice can be heard from the top of the stairwell. He comes down wrapped in his bathrobe and sits in a chair opposite us.

  Olivia gives me an exasperated look meant to convey how impossible it is to have a discussion in this house without Bernard either eavesdropping or inserting himself. She’s constantly accusing him of being too nosy for his own good. Bernard insists he’s been imbued with insatiable curiosity the same way that virtuosity is in the genetic code of all great musicians.

  “Mother, you’ve been entirely too chummy with Hallie over the past few days,” says a not-to-be-left-out Bernard. “Whatever are the two of you cooking up? And it had better not be a surprise party for me! Or if it is, I at least need to have some say regarding the menu. And the theme should involve sequins—they’re all the rage right now. Maybe Las Vegas or Motown or—”

  “Would you be devastated if I said that we weren’t discussing you?” Olivia cuts him off.

  Only I’m secretly guessing that Bernard is actually giving this little performance as a way of demonstrating to us both just how over Gil he really is.

  “Yes, I would find that difficult to believe,” Bernard says with mock astonishment. “But if it’s the truth, then may I take the liberty of proposing myself as an endlessly fascinating topic of conversation?”

  Just then Rocky sneaks up behind Bernard and places his hands over Bernard’s eyes the way you do when you want the other person to guess who it is. However, Bernard refuses to play along. “Rocky, stop being a pain in the neck!” he says while removing the chimp’s hands from his face. “You’ve done enough damage for one week. And besides, I’m pretending you don’t exist.”

  When Rocky is no longer directly behind Bernard, I can see that he’s wearing a blue-and-white gingham dress complete with white lace gloves, blue hat with white plastic peonies sewn onto the brim, and has a matching blue pocketbook slung over his arm. I recognize the getup from the costume rack in the garage as an outfit worn by Laura Wingfield in Gil’s production of The Glass Menagerie. This isn’t the first time that Rocky has made use of the clothing. He always gets to pick something for bartending at Bernard’s theme parties. And once Rocky, Gil, and Bernard dressed up as the Three Gay Caballeros, complete with vests, chaps, and six-shooters, for a benefit to raise money for Gil’s theater group.

  Now that Rocky has our full attention, he strikes a pose with one hand above his head, the way he’s seen Bernard do when showing off a new item of vintage clothing that he’s found for the shop.

  Olivia laughs so hard that her eyes water. Bernard turns around to see what his mother finds so humorous, and despite the gaily dressed and posed Rocky, he remains in character as the disgruntled homeowner.

  “Take that off right now!” orders Bernard.

  But Rocky flashes him a wide grin and by this time the overall effect of the ensemble has also struck Bernard and he’s beginning to chuckle, silently at first, as if he’s still determined to remain angry and is only having a slight body spasm. However, when Rocky opens his pocketbook and offers Bernard a lace-trimmed hankie, Bernard completely loses it, suffers an attack of laughter that sounds not entirely unlike whooping cough, and has to lean on the arm of his chair to keep from toppling over.

  Olivia comes over and pats Rocky approvingly and says, “I think you’re very convincing as Laura Wingfield.”

  Bernard looks down at the floor as he attempts to catch his breath, but every time he glances up and sees Rocky he starts snorting with laughter again. Finally he manages to gasp, “We can tell the audience that Rocky’s fur-covered body is just a slight imperfection !” Bernard quotes the famous line from the play and then leans backward in another gale of giggles.

  Chapter Fifty-four

  BERNARD STILL HAS YET TO ASK ME ABOUT MY DINNER WITH GIL. When I enter the kitchen the next morning he’s singing “Mad About the Boy.” I know it’s stupid to be mad about the boy, I’m so ashamed of it, But must admit, The sleepless nights I’ve had about the boy. On the Silver Screen, He melts my foolish heart in every single scene.

  Bernard stops his off-key crooning to deliver a message. “Ray phoned while you were in the shower and wants you to call him back.”

  “Thanks,” I say, and head for the refrigerator.

  “He wants you to visit him in Manhattan this weekend,” continues Bernard. “Of course, it’s much too dangerous to fly these days, not to mention the city itself, and so I implied that I didn’t think you should go.” Bernard proceeds to tell me about the drafting class Ray is taking at Parsons School of Design. Not only that, but he’s pressed Ray into service by asking him to stop at a nearby antiques store and check the price tag on a Hans Holbein rug decorated with stylized Kufic script that Bernard has placed there on consignment. Apparently Bernard is convinced that the owner is lying to him over the phone, insisting he can’t sell the rugs that Bernard sends him for nearly as much money as he really does.

  “What did you do?” I ask. “Interview Ray for the newspaper?” But everyone knows that if Bernard happens to pick up the phone when he’s the least bit bored or anxious, he’ll talk for an hour, even to someone he doesn’t know. Same with customers who wander into the shop. Olivia says she has to at least give Bernard credit for being an “equal opportunity gossip.”

  “I suppose he sounds like a nice-enough young man,” Bernard says and sighs.

  It’s obvious he had his hopes up that Craig and I would reconnect, especially after throwing the two of us together in the yard. But as anyone can plainly see, Craig arrives in the morning, does his work, and heads off again before dinner, despite Bernard’s invitation to join us. Though unbeknownst to Bernard, yesterday when everyone else was gone, Craig and I did have a fun lunch together. We sat in the shed eating Fluffernutter sandwiches and drinking big glasses of chocolate Yoo-hoo with scoops of vanilla ice cream in them. I keep the peanut butter and marshmallow Fluff hidden behind the lawn mower because Bernard insists that it’s for “philistines” and will throw it away if he finds it in the kitchen.

  Upon finishing the rundown on Ray and the Manhattan rug swindler, Bernard chatters away about the movie that he and Melik went to see as part of a test audience. Afterward they were asked to fill out questionnaires and then participate in a discussion with the famous Danish director Gorm Eghoff.

  “The movie takes place in the 1920s and I felt it was my duty to point out that the Zephyr clock on the night table of the wealthy landowner was designed by Kim Weber, inspired by the German Bauhaus style of the period, but not in fact on the market until 1934.”

  “You told the director that there’s a mistake in his movie?” I ask.

  “Of course,” says Bernard. “I also took the liberty of explaining that Art Deco wasn’t meant as a negation of the hard lines and harsh materials of the Industrial Age, as he implied in the film, so much as the design world’s answer to jazz—a series of riffs and improvisations on the moods and themes of the
early twentieth century.”

  “And what did Mr. Eghoff say to that?” I ask.

  “He took my card and expressed an interest in having me consult on the set design for his next film. It’s about an impoverished Scandinavian fisherman who moves to Ohio in the 1890s and becomes a hugely successful wheat farmer.”

  “And let me guess, you may just happen to have some items down at the shop that would be perfect for it.”

  “Indeed, I might. Mother would have adored the film we saw last night,” he continues. “The migrant workers revolted in the end.”

  “Gil is engaged to Doris,” I find myself blurting out.

  “Good for him.” Bernard is the essence of cool, but I can tell by the way he clenches his jaw that he wasn’t prepared for this. “I hope she registers at a place where I can buy them some driftwood sculptures, ceramic salt-and-pepper shakers shaped like windmills, and a macramé plant hanger with a big philodendron in it.”

  “It’s time to bury the spatula,” I say firmly. “We’re going to have dinner with them on Friday night.”

  “Absolutely not! I will not be seen at a restaurant with those pseudo-heterosexuals. Besides, I’ve moved on. I’ve washed that man right out of my hair. And I have no intention of going to his place and making a fool of myself like Freddie, singing ‘Here on the Street Where You Live’ in front of a periodontist’s office.”

  “You won’t make a fool of yourself. We’ll have dinner here. And you can invite Melik. Don’t you want Gil to see what a handsome new boyfriend you have?”

  Bernard immediately brightens. “Oh, well, that’s different. I suppose that would be okay. But not the trollop, just Gil.”

  “It’s too late. I already asked them. And the trollop happens to be his fiancée.”