by Cherry Kay
“You work here?” he asked her, his expensive camera swinging from a strap onto his chest. He wore a tight, navy t-shirt and the muscles of his upper arms were well defined and large. She noticed that he was unshaven and that his blond hair was messy and could do with a cut. It fell partly into his eyes and almost touched his collar.
“I'm the curator here, I thought you might be an artist so I came out to see if you wanted to know more about the building.”
He put out his hand to her and she shook his. They held hands for a few seconds, both of them feeling a wave that they would later only describe as electricity pass through them. It was an instant attraction and they found themselves grinning at each other, unable to speak for a while.
“An architect,” he finally said.
“I'm sorry?”
“I'm not an artist, I'm an architect. But I got a day off and I spend my free time taking pictures of various aspects of building construction.”
“Oh, I see. Well, you don't look much like an architect, aren't you a bit young? And your clothes. Oh. I'm sorry.”
“No don't be, like I say, it's my day off. I'm Christopher, by the way.”
“Lorelle.”
“Lorelle, if you don't mind, I would like to know more about this building. How about I buy you lunch?”
“I think I can allow you to do that.”
It was with ease that they slipped into a relationship. One that swept them along and seemed to exclude their friends for the most part and, up until now, parents.
She never got on with hers and left LA as soon as she could and got as far away as possible, to paint and draw. Her family thought she was crazy and told her she'd never make it as an artist, and she wanted to prove them wrong. Christopher, by stark contrast, believed in her and was there for one of her installations and a photography exhibition that was featured in online art magazine. He had complete faith in her and for Lorelle, that was all she needed. She had complete trust in him.
3
Tuesday morning arrived and Lorelle slept badly the night before, tossing and turning, hoping she would impress Christopher's family. After packing, she poured herself a large glass of wine to still her nerves but finding it hard to relax, even in her best rose and lavender bubble bath, she got out and poured herself another and fell asleep shortly afterwards, waking just hours later with a splitting headache.
“You look like death, Lorelle, what happened?”
Christopher was his usual perky self when he bounced into her studio apartment to pick her up for their trip.
“Thanks a lot, Christopher.” Lorelle was putting her coat on and gave him a scathing look.
“No, I mean, did you get to bed late?”
“You're digging yourself a hole here. I'm nervous enough as it is.”
“I told you, there's absolutely nothing to worry about. Alpine is beautiful in the winter. If it gets too much at my parents we can get away, take pictures. We can eat in this quaint little restaurant with an amazing skyline at night. You'll love it.”
“Won't I be out of place in somewhere like Alpine?”
“Why would you? Come on. Let's go.” He picked up her suitcase and headed for the door. “I take it back, you look as beautiful as ever.”
She locked the door and followed him down. When she asked if she'd be out of place in Alpine, what she'd really meant was it wasn't a place to find many black people. And how would his parents feel about her being among their friends.
Christopher was talking about the drive being a bit dangerous with the snow, but she wasn't listening. Suddenly it hit her. Had Christopher told his parents she was black? She looked at him quizzically as he loaded her case into the trunk but couldn't bring herself to ask. Of course he must have said something to them. But what if he hadn't, surely, they would be like him and her color wouldn't matter. She took a deep breath and got into the car as Christopher held the door open for her. He gave her a long, lingering kiss on the lips and then they drove off. She decided she was being silly and that it wasn't a good idea to bring it up in case he got offended.
Lorelle relaxed into the seat of Christopher's Mercedes sports car and watched the grays and browns, the stone and the concrete fade away. Soon trees and hills replaced the high rises and drifts of snow and ice covered everything she saw, including vast open spaces that would show green and splendid when the seasons changed again.
She felt a little sleepy and dozed off as Christopher's car struggled up snowy hills. The large houses were spaced out so that it took a good few minutes to drive from one to the other. Not like the City. The windows of all the houses had Christmas trees in them and were decorated with lights. He looked over at Lorelle in her multi-colored woolen hat with a large pompom on top and smiled.
She was missing it all, but looked like she needed the sleep.
He pulled into the wide driveway of his parents’ four bedroom house in Alpine just before midday. Lorelle jerked herself awake and sat up.
“We're here, sleepy head.”
She looked out at the long stone house painted in white. There were two large trees in the front to either side and to the left of one of them was a wide garage door. Also in white. There was a thin powdering of snow on the sloped roof which seemed to house a loft room or attic.
Christopher opened her door and as she stepped out onto the snow-covered gravel, she almost slipped.
“Careful, honey.” Just then his cell rang. “I should take this. You ring the bell, I'll bring the bags up.”
She hesitated before approaching the large oak door. It had an elaborate brass door knocker and at first she couldn’t find the doorbell. She looked around, but suddenly someone opened the door.
“Yes?” The woman had blond-gray hair in a collar length bob. Her skirt was plaid and fitted to below the knee. She wore her cardigan just on the tops of her shoulders over a cream, silk blouse with a ruffle at the chest.
“I'm Lorelle.” She smiled and held out her hand but the woman did not take it. Instead she looked over Lorelle's shoulder towards Christopher's car and waved to him. He was still talking on the phone and waved back.
“If you've come about the catering,” she said looking down her nose at Lorelle, “you're days early. The Christmas party isn't until Christmas day. Friday. That's three days away, my dear.”
“No, I mean I'm Lorelle, I'm with Christopher.”
“With Christopher?”
Just then he arrived, carrying both their cases. He dropped them on the deep step where Lorelle stood, baffled, and hugged his mother.
“Oh, Christopher,” she said. “It's always too long. Why do you have to stay away for such extraordinarily long periods of time? Anyone would think you hated us.”
She turned her eyes to Lorelle.
“Have you two introduced yourselves?” he asked. “Mother this is Lorelle and Lorelle this is my mother, Judith.”
Judith looked Lorelle up and down from the tip of the pompom on her hat to the thick, but worn boots on her feet. Lorelle turned to Christopher.
“You never told them I was coming. What's the matter with you, Christopher? Let me start again. Hello Judith I'm Lorelle, Christopher's girlfriend.”
She held out her hand again and Judith lightly shook it.
“He told you he had a girlfriend, right?”
“Right. But I didn't think it was serious. Not serious enough for an invitation to spend the holidays with his family.”
Christopher claimed the cases again and brushed past this mother. “You don't mind do you, Mother? There's lots of room.”
A tall man with reddish hair and flushed cheeks came bounding down the corridor from a back room.
“Dad!”
Christopher and his father hugged each other like old college friends. Lorelle smiled and looked on. Turning to Judith as the two men exchanged a few words about the football, Lorelle saw the look Judith was giving her. Instantly she saw the same blue in her eyes that Christopher had but there was none
of the warmth, only a thin layer of ice that was for Lorelle's benefit only.
“And Dad, I'd like you to meet, Lorelle.”
Lorelle stepped off the deep front door mat and into the hallway that neither Christopher nor his mother had welcomed her to do.
“Lorelle, this is my Dad, Philip.”
“Nice to meet you, Philip. I take it your son forgot to mention he was bringing a guest.”
“And a beautiful one at that.” He gave Lorelle a hug and patted her back. “Come in, come in, we're letting the heat out. You must need a drink after that drive. I like to hibernate at this time of year, no unnecessary driving around here if I can help it.” He gestured for them to enter the living room and made his way to the bar in the corner.
There were two very wide and deep sofas opposite each other in worn leather covered with expensive throws on the back. Between them was a wide, solid oak coffee table. They were adjacent to a fur rug that sat before a fireplace glowing with heat and surrounded by an ornate, alabaster mantel which housed three Christmas stockings. There were oak tables dotted around the large room, either with antique lamps or delicate vases neatly placed on top of them. Over by the large window stood a tall pine tree, subtly decorated, by a professional, Lorelle imagined, with silver bells and ribbons and a string of white lights woven among the branches. There was a stack of presents under the tree and two enormous armchairs facing it.
“What can I get you, Lorelle?” Philip boomed from the bar.
“If you don't mind, I think I'd prefer a tea.”
“Tea?” Judith repeated.
“Only if you have it.”
“Of course we have it, we have everything. Christopher, you come keep me company while I make tea.”
He followed his mother out and winked at Lorelle who stood awkwardly in the middle of the room wringing her hands.
“Here, Lorelle, let me take your coat. There you go. Please forgive our manners, we don't get many visitors.” He laughed as he also disappeared from the room. She spun around again and he was back. “There we have it. Now, where was I. Ah yes, a brandy. Just ideal for this weather, you sure I can't tempt you?”
“Oh, I’d better not,” she said. “I didn't eat breakfast so it'll go straight to my head and I'll embarrass myself.”
“Right you are.” He raised a glass and walked over to the fire place.
“Take a seat, Lorelle. Make yourself at home. So, how long have the two of you been seeing each other?”
“Oh it's nearly ten months.”
“Ten months, that must be a record for Christopher since Joanna.”
“Joanna?”
“His first love. They went to college together, got engaged and everything, the next thing I knew it was over.”
“I see.”
“He never said?”
“Never.”
“Well he was pretty heartbroken. Spent his time dating every last female in New York I believe.”
“Oh.” Lorelle looked down at her knees.
“But I'm sure he's different now.” Philip coughed loudly and stepped quickly out of the room. “I'll just take the bags upstairs.”
On her own again, Lorelle stood up to look at the painting above the fireplace.
“That's St Andrew and St Thomas,” Judith said as she came into the living carrying a tray, and looking up at the painting. Lorelle heard Christopher call to her father to help him with one of the cases so she was alone with Judith.
“Here,” she placed the tray down. There was a china teapot and one cup and saucer and a matching bowl of sugar and small jug of milk. “The artist is not renowned for his painting.”
“I know,” Lorelle said. “Bernini is predominantly a sculptor.”
“Oh, you know Bernini?”
“Yes, but I always preferred the intensity of Caravaggio.” Lorelle said and stepped back from the painting.
“I wouldn't have thought that your people were much into artists.”
“My people?”
“Yes, your people.” Judith sat on the sofa. “Shall I pour?”
“Please.”
“Take a seat, dear you don't have to stand before me.”
“Mrs. Knight.”
“Judith, please.” She looked down her thin nose as she poured the tea.
“Do we have a problem, Judith?”
“Do you want to give me a problem, Lorelle?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, Christopher is my only son. I don't want his life ruined, not by anyone.”
“And why do you think I would ruin his life?”
“He always was, shall we say, experimental in his tastes. But he has a particular type of woman in mind for his future and I can't see that changing. Not for anyone. Sugar?”
“No thank you.”
“Milk?”
“Please, just a splash.”
“There you go my dear. Just as long as we understand each other.” She handed the cup to Lorelle, it did not rattle once against the saucer.
“I think we understand each other perfectly,” Lorelle said, accepting the tea. “And if you feel that you wish to leave here earlier than planned, then I won't be in the least bit slighted.”
“I see. Well, for your information, Judith, I'm going nowhere. If Christopher can't stand it here any longer and leaves before Christmas Day, then I'll leave with him. Until then...” she shuffled back in her seat, blew hard into the cup and sipped her tea with wide eyes staring back at Judith.
The men returned, laughing.
“Now, boys, I'm going to prepare us a light lunch while these two lovebirds unpack,” Judith sprang to her feet and smiled over at Lorelle. “You finish your tea, Lorelle and then Christopher can show you to the guest room.”
“Oh no, Mother. Lorelle and I will share my room. It will give you less to do.”
“Nonsense, Christopher. Lorelle might want her own space. Do you two live together in the city?” She focused her gaze on Lorelle who smiled sweetly back at her.
“I have my own place but I don't mind sharing with Christopher for a few days. We spend most of our time together anyway. Thank you for the tea.” She got up and handed the cup to Judith who stood staring at it, open mouthed.
“Shall we?” Lorelle said and Christopher led her out of the room.
4
Up in Christopher's room, Lorelle swung around. Christopher's face dropped.
“What is it, Lorelle?” he asked.
Lorelle's eyes opened wide. “What is it, Lorelle? What is it, Lorelle? Christopher I could kill you!”
“What did I do?”
“It's what you didn't do. First, you didn't tell them I was coming and second, you failed to mention that this casual girlfriend you had was black.”
“Okay, I should have told them. It only occurred to me on the way up here that I hadn't. I had a deadline to meet before the trip and I guess it kinda slipped my mind.”
“Kinda slipped your mind. I swear I could kill you.” She slumped down on the bed and crossed her arms. Christopher came and knelt beside her, looking up with those large, blue eyes, doleful and pleading for forgiveness.
“You know she hates me, right?” Lorelle finally said, looking out of the window at the large gnarled oak with a twisted branch that sat at the same level as the window sill. She spotted a birds' nest. It was deserted and the leaves of the tree were all gone. All that remained were bare branches and twigs, some snow lay on the thicker ones and icicles clung to the thick trunk. The sky was white and she could see snow peaked mountains off in the distance.
“She doesn't hate you,” Christopher said. “She was just taken by surprise and Mother hates surprises. Once she gets to know you, you'll see, she'll be all over you, like Dad is.”
She knew that had he been aware of her conversation with Judith, he'd have a different opinion. She decided to say nothing about the positively racist comments his mother had made, hoping that her fussing might just drive Christopher away early. Th
e alternative was to brave this one out for Christopher's sake and, for all she knew, she might never have to see that woman again. From what his father was saying, Christopher slept around so maybe he already had plans to ditch her for another model after the holidays anyway.
She hoped not. To think that the ten months they'd spent together might soon come to a close made her sad. She knew a breakup would destroy her, having grown so fond of Christopher. She loved to have him around, to be part of her life. He supported her art career, she loved his sense of humor and if she was honest – she loved him.
“Do you think I should go and help her with lunch?” Lorelle asked. He was still on his knees and was running his hands up and down her legs. She wore dark jeans under her boots which he now unzipped and peeled off her legs slowly and seductively.
“Mother usually likes to have the kitchen to herself. Entry is by invitation only. So I'd say we have a few minutes to ourselves.” He parted her legs and leaned up to kiss her.
“Wait, we can't do this here. What will your parents think?”
