Bryan came inside first and put his arm around me. “I know I just met you, but I love you.”
“Thanks.”
“Even though I don’t understand this two-women thing, whatever, I think it’s totally cool. And you should do what you want. Just don’t drop your pants in public. There’s a law against it.”
I smiled a little, as he held my chin.
“Made you smile,” he sang. “Fuck those straighties out there, except me. I’m a cool straighty.”
“You sure about that?” My eyes locked on his.
He became a nervous fruit fly, darting toward the glass door. “Honey, I love me some ladies!”
“See, straight guys don’t say that,” I called to the door as it closed.
When Bryan left, Mom, the appointed family diplomat, was sent in by the rest of the gang to talk to me.
“It’s an emotional time,” she said. “Tensions are running high.”
“All my life I’ve been hearing what a pretty girl I am, how I’d make someone a lucky guy. You can’t turn on the TV without getting the message you have to be straight.”
“And that’s our fault?” Mom gestured outside.
“I know you grew up in a different world. You always said that. But I’m tired of always being the one who has to understand. For a couple of hours tomorrow, everyone else has to understand. And if you or Aunt Rita or anyone can’t do that, then I don’t want you to be here!”
“Why are you so angry?”
“Tell me something,” I replied. “Will my wedding pictures be overflowing on your tables and walls for your bingo friends to see? Right alongside Joanne’s wedding photos?”
“Of course they will!”
“Sorry.” I searched the ceiling for the perfect words. I did get angry sometimes. “It’s like you and Joanne and Dad were all on one side of this riverbank, and I was on the other side. And nothing I could do or feel or say would get me across the river. You know I used to make myself fantasize about Ricky Schroeder because we were the same age? I’d pretend he was my boyfriend.”
“And?”
“Nothing.” Nada, zip.
“When you were little,” Mom said, “you’d play with the other children, but the teacher said you were just as content playing by yourself. You’d go over to this little playhouse and make up stories about all of the people who lived inside. You were different, but different in a good way.”
I smiled in spite of myself, and she put her arms around me. With her warm, well-padded arms, Mom was the perfect hugger. And she always smelled like fresh air. And she was here. That was important.
“I’m glad you’re here,” I told her.
Joanne burst in with Cabbot at her side.
“He has something he wants to say.” She squeezed his hand tighter.
“I’m sorry,” he said on cue. “I’m happy you’re getting married.” He looked up at Joanne for approval. When she nodded, he ran back outside.
“Close the door all the way!” she screamed. “The bugs!”
Mom looked at the clock. “I’d better get some sleep. Have to get to Boston early.”
“Wait,” I blurted. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”
“Aunt Rita is getting up there, you know. She’ll probably be dead this time next year.” With that, Mom gave me a goodnight kiss and headed off to bed.
“Huh,” I muttered. “Can’t argue with that.”
Mom could win any disagreement by bringing up death. She used this power in most tricky family situations. I watched her stocky, determined little legs climb the ladder to the loft where she was staying. There was just enough room up there for a twin bed and a nightstand. I didn’t even know it was there when we first arrived.
Joanne’s face pitied me. I knew she didn’t want Aunt Rita there either. She let out a heavy sigh.
“I’m sorry about Cabbot,” she said.
“It’s okay.”
“Aren’t you sorry for accusing me of being a bad parent?”
“I didn’t accuse you of—”
“Is it my fault we’re rich and our neighbors are white Republicans?” She tried to lower her voice with Mom in the loft.
“What’s the deal with you?”
“Nothing.” She was hunched over the counter like a kicked dog.
“What is it?”
“I love my kids. Don’t get me wrong.” Her voice was shaking.
I knew what was coming. Every few years Joanne would lament about the dream deferred, some path not taken, although she’d never say exactly where that path led. Until tonight.
“I wanted to be a gymnast. Mom knew it too. But she said you had the fatter thighs. No, wait, muscular, she said. So she didn’t even consider it.”
“It was your father!” Mom protested from above.
“I never took gymnastics,” I replied defensively.
“I know.” Joanne lowered her voice. “Mom never called the guy who taught it. Then it was too late. He moved out west to raise cattle. And that was it. Then I was too old to even start. They want you when you’re like six, you know.”
I was speechless. “How come you never told me?”
“It seems so stupid now, me on a balance beam. I get dizzy in elevators. But I loved the way they seemed so free on the floor exercises, leaping and jumping…”
“Huh.” I was stunned. “That would explain the poster of Mary Lou Retton in your bedroom. I wondered if you had a crush on her.”
Joanne laughed, shaking her head. “Sometimes when I look at Nathan, I think of how different my life would’ve been if I’d had an Olympic gold medal.”
“The Olympics!” I was impressed; I’d always tried to keep my expectations low.
“I didn’t tell anyone because what does it matter now?” She wiped her eyes. “And because you’d look at me like that!”
“Like what?”
“The pity pout!”
“No! I think it’s cool you had that dream.” I reached out to hug her. “You just have to make a new one.”
She pulled back abruptly. “Easy for you to say.”
“What does that mean?”
“You’re always one step out the door.”
My face flushed. “That’s not fair. Uh, twelve-year relationship?”
“How many jobs have you had?”
I put my head down. “Hey, they weren’t all my fault.”
“I know.” Joanne sounded a little tipsy. Then she got really close to my ear and said, “This one’s a keeper. Don’t run away.”
“I’m not running—”
Then Joanne started crying—not crying, gushing. There weren’t enough tissues in the house to catch all of the water streaming out of her. “The doctor said…” She couldn’t finish.
My mind raced to the worst. She had some appointment and found out she had a disease.
“What?” I grabbed Joanne’s shoulders.
“Quiet down there!” Mom leaned over the rail wearing an Elmo nightshirt. On most women her age, it might have looked odd. But not on Mom.
“I’m premenopausal!” Joanne cried harder.
I exhaled, relieved. “That’s great! Just think, no more periods!”
She bawled uncontrollably.
“What? You want your periods?” In my world, this was a positive thing. I couldn’t wait to be premenopausal. Then it hit me. I was talking to the Angel of Death. “Oh, you think you’re closer to…”
“Just marching toward death!” she finished.
“I really think you should see a therapist about your death issues.”
“Why…doesn’t…everyone…have death issues? Doesn’t it bother you?”
“I have bigger worries right now, like Aunt Rita.”
She looked suddenly sympathetic, wiping her nose. “I had no idea about her. I swear.”
Aunt Rita had been dying since she was fifty. She hadn’t left Miami in forty years because she always wanted to be close to her doctors and her favorite hospital. The tr
uth was, she’d probably outlive us all.
“I’m sorry.” Joanne sniffed. “This isn’t about me.”
“Maybe some hormone pills will help.” I patted her back.
“Oh, that’s your answer for everything! Take a pill!”
Nathan came in. “So, Sydney, how you liking the violent mood swings?”
“What?” I was a little afraid.
“She’ll be fine.” He winked at me reassuringly and hugged Joanne until she could breathe normally again.
That was another thing about living so far away. I didn’t know what was going on, and I wasn’t the one who could help her like I used to. How was I to know she was in the midst of a hormonal tornado? Only Nathan knew what to do. It made me a little sad.
Chapter Thirty-Two
“Shut Up, Fran”
The doorbell rang, and Joanne pulled herself together in record time. She dabbed at her pink, swollen eyes and donned a plastic smile.
It was Morgan and Fran. They looked soggy and tired, but it wasn’t raining out. I noticed the kayak on top of their car, which they took everywhere. They had moved from Granolas Birkenstockius to Lesbius Action-Figurious or something like that. Whenever we called, they were out hiking, biking or fighting off bears in the woods.
“Shut up, Fran,” Morgan spat as soon as I opened the door.
I think I startled them; they weren’t ready to come in yet.
“Oh, hi,” Morgan said, and then came the flurry of hugs.
“We’re here for the big day,” she announced robustly. “It’s about damn time!” She scanned the place. “You must be the sister. You guys don’t look a thing alike.” She hugged Joanne so hard I thought I heard a bone crack.
“You’re wet,” I said.
“We snuck in a kayak ride,” Fran said apologetically. “Morgan wanted to stop on the way or we would’ve been here sooner.”
“Will you let it go?” Morgan barked.
“We missed dinner, I bet!” Fran hollered. Her eyes pleaded with me. She was wiry like a bird but could eat more than all of us.
“No, there’s more out back,” Nathan replied.
“I’m really glad you guys are here.” I made all the introductions. “Joanne, Morgan and Fran. Ellie’s out back, and Mom went to bed.”
Then Mom, now with a green facial mask, leaned over the railing. “I’m not asleep. Nice to see you!” She waved.
“Hey, Ms. G,” Morgan called, not the least bit rattled by Mom’s appearance.
I took them in with one glance and imagined how Aunt Rita and Mr. Hutchins would see them—not as the loyal friends who left their horsefly-ridden barn house to be with us whenever we needed them or to come and pick apples with us last year just because it was fall and it seemed like the thing to do. No, they’d be squinting behind their trifocals, trying to figure out whether they were girls or boys. And Aunt Rita would say it aloud too. She might even call Morgan “sir” or something awful like that. They came all this way only to get their feelings hurt. I couldn’t bear to think about it. I was worried. My stomach churned. It was a nightmare. I’d beg Ellie to call it all off if I didn’t think it would kill her.
When they went outside to see Ellie, I gave Joanne a hug.
“Things will get better.”
“What things?”
“The things you were crying about a second ago?”
“Oh, it’s okay.” Joanne waved me away, not wanting to share her pain in front of new people.
Ellie came in. “You joining the party?”
“Yeah.” I was confused and worried. People were going to collide here, people who should never be in the same space under any circumstances.
Mr. Hutchins came in. “Nature calls,” he announced.
He was followed by Bryan, who was getting more drinks.
“So you’re not gay?” Mr. Hutchins repeated.
Bryan drifted into the kitchen. “Oh, no. I love the ladies. Love breasts and thighs…”
Mr. Hutchins squinted. “Are you talkin’ about women or a bucket of chicken? All of a sudden, I’m hungry again.” He laughed to himself as he made his way to the bathroom.
Outside, a storm was blowing in. How appropriate.
Everyone except Mom had settled in on lounge chairs. Bugs flew all around me, and I kept waving them away. I noticed no one else had this problem. Bugs always seemed to come to me; I was the Bug Whisperer.
“What did you do with your dog?” I asked Morgan and Fran. I could never remember its name, only that it was a hyperactive terrier of some sort.
“Had to board him.” Morgan gave Fran a sideways glance. There had been an argument over this.
“We can only stay four days,” Fran said. “I don’t want him to get kettle cough.”
“You mean kennel,” Morgan corrected.
“Whatever.”
“You know how to get to Logan?” Joanne asked Nathan.
“I’ll figure it out.” His calmness irritated her.
“It’s great to see y’all again,” Penny told Morgan and Fran.
“What is it with men and directions!” Joanne exclaimed.
“He can use my GPS,” Ellie said.
“If he wants to go to Connecticut!” I shouted. “It doesn’t work. When are you going to admit that it doesn’t work?”
“Okay, blow my head off,” Ellie mumbled. I’d done it. I could tell. She was getting her pouty lip.
“Sorry,” I said. On second thought, maybe it wouldn’t have been such a bad idea if Aunt Rita ended up in Connecticut. She’d be more at home there.
“Our GPS works,” Fran offered.
“Shut up, Fran.” Morgan crossed her arms.
“Say that to me one more time and I’m moving out!” Her spiked hair stood higher if that was possible.
“It’s set to go back to Vermont. I don’t know how to reset it.”
“Really?” Fran was incredulous. “If you didn’t insist on kayaking up and down the Eastern Seaboard, it might not be covered in rust.”
“That’s not why it doesn’t work.”
“I don’t care!” Fran crossed her arms, unwilling to hear the exact technical cause of the malfunction.
“Whatever happened to maps?” I asked, trying to lighten the mood.
Everyone stared at me like I’d taken all my clothes off.
“I have trouble reading them,” Morgan said. “All the little lines. I need two pairs of glasses to see the back roads.”
Mr. Hutchins had returned from the bathroom.
“I got one of those larger print atlases,” Mr. Hutchins replied, turning to Morgan and Fran. “Are y’all gay too?”
Everyone held their breath with awkward smiles.
“Uh, yeah,” Morgan answered, shifting in her seat.
I stared intensely at her, trying to silently apologize. “Mr. Hutchins is Nathan’s dad. We didn’t know he was…coming.”
She nodded, immediately understanding. “So what do you do?” Morgan asked comfortably.
“I’m a businessman. I own most of Augusta.” He grinned broadly, taking a few chips. “What about yourself? I can’t picture what a…young lady like yourself would be doing.”
“I work for the post office,” Morgan declared.
“Well, good for you. Yeah, that’s a good thing. We need y’all. Can you get ’em to quit raisin’ the price of stamps?”
“I’ll see what I can do.” Morgan smirked and gulped her drink. I could tell she disliked him.
Then he turned his attention to Fran. “How did you get your hair like that? Looks like you been plugged into a socket.”
“Dad, come on,” Nathan interrupted. Then to Fran, “He likes to joke.”
“It was lightning actually,” Fran replied. “It’s never been the same since.”
I smiled at Fran, so grateful for her warmth and humor. We certainly needed it tonight.
The waves had begun crashing harder, and the sky started to spit on us and the steak. As we took the party inside, I h
eard my therapist’s words echoing in my head: “Breathe. You can’t let worry in when you focus on your breathing.”
Sometimes she was right.
Chapter Thirty-Three
“Ring Ring”
The next morning, I popped Tums and Xanax.
Ellie was like a little kid, excited to show me a secret. She pulled out a shopping bag from the closet and took out not one, but two boxes. I was confused.
Inside the box was a silver ring with two garnet stones embedded in the band. Garnet was my favorite stone, and Ellie knew that I didn’t like rings with fat, protruding stones that can catch on your clothes or moving cars.
Before I could say anything, she opened the other box with an identical ring inside.
“I know how you feel about ring shopping,” she said. “I wanted them to match.”
I stared at them. “You did everything.”
“Is that bad?” Her eyes were questioning and suddenly a little scared. “Is this a good surprise or a bad surprise? If you’d rather pick them out together, we could just use them for the wedding, then get different ones…”
I covered her mouth. “It’s…great.”
When your life is normal, so to speak, you tend to react to situations and events in a so-called normal way. But when you don’t have a point of reference for the event taking place before you, you’re kind of lost and confused and you don’t react the way you’re “supposed” to.
“We’re not a man and a woman,” I said carefully. “They have all these traditions, rules…the guy getting down on one knee, you know.”
Ellie was already on the floor with me, so she lifted a knee. “Will you marry me?”
“Who said you were a guy?”
We laughed.
“It’s just there are all these things, about rings, cakes, brides and grooms. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.” I stared helplessly at her.
“Isn’t that what you said was a good thing about being gay? You can make your own rules. There’s no right or wrong way. Who cares who does what first? I got two women figurines for the cake. Isn’t that cool? There’s a shop here that sells stuff just like that.”
The Comfortable Shoe Diaries Page 20
