“All right,” I said, with no attempt at hiding my doubts.
Soon enough, and with very little help from me, Kimberly had her hair swept up, secured and hair sprayed into within an inch of concrete. “Would you please go get Duane for me? I don’t want Mom to see me until it’s too late for her to tell me what I’ve done wrong.”
I nodded and headed down the hall to Iris’s bedroom suite. The door was open, so I didn’t have to knock, but when I reached the threshold, I stopped short. Standing in front of her full-length mirror, with a softness in her expression that I couldn’t remember ever having seen, Iris admired the dream of a dress Duane had designed for her. Knowing they would be standing beside each other most of the night, he had created a dress that would not only complement Kimberly’s, but one which, when seen together, would make them stand out as the two most admired women in the room. Using the same shade of blue that was hinted at in the tulle of Kimberly’s dress, he had created a long-sleeved satin gown that could not have flattered Iris’s more “sophisticated” form any more grandly, and then to play off both the white of the more youthful dress as well as the tulle layer that floated over it, Duane had designed a high-standing mini-shrug that acted as a subtly dramatic collar and also tied the two gowns flawlessly together.
“Wow,” I said. “Iris, you look amazing.”
“Thank you.” She met my eyes, then turned hers to Duane. “But he deserves the credit.”
Duane feigned modesty somewhat convincingly.
Returning to admire her appearance in the mirror, Iris said, “Your father used to love for me to dress up. Do you remember? He would buy us tickets to anything formal, just so we’d have the excuse.”
It surprised me a little to hear Iris speak of my father. I’m not implying it was such an incredibly rare event, but it was usually tainted with pain and tiredness. This time it seemed a pleasant memory, almost a tribute.
“I do remember the two of you going out a lot,” I said. Even as I said it, I realized that in my memory I’d always imagined they’d done it so much because it was what Iris had wanted, but then as I remembered the way he had always called her “my princess,” it suddenly occurred to me how proud it must have made him to show her off. Even now she was still a beautiful woman, and for him I suppose she had always seemed like something from a fairy tale.
“Kimberly wants help with her makeup so that she doesn’t mess anything up,” I said to Duane.
“I love a client who is willing to listen!” Duane said as he rushed out of the door.
I hung back with Iris, hoping to hear what else she might say about my dad. After we’d both stood there for a while admiring her dress, almost without my realizing it, I found myself asking her, “Did you love him?”
Iris looked at my reflection in the mirror with surprise. “Your father?”
I nodded.
She lowered her eyes, smoothing down an imaginary wrinkle on the skirt of her gown. “I loved how happy I made him.”
“But did you love him?”
“Why are you asking me this now?”
“Because I want to know.”
She turned around to face me, picking up her glass of wine and taking a sip. “Your father was the best man I ever met. He treated me, and every person he came into contact with, with respect and kindness. And when we got married, I was certain that he was going to make me happier than anyone had ever managed to before.”
“But did you love him?”
She met my eyes. “Honestly?”
“Yes. Please.”
She began to straighten up the things on her vanity. “I think I would have grown to. I liked and esteemed him more than any man I’ve ever known. But love is a very slow thing for me, Chris. I don’t know if you can understand that. And he was gone before … well, he was gone too soon.”
“So why did you marry him?”
“Because he was a good man. And I thought we could make each other very happy. He did make me happy, and, I thought, I made him happy.”
“And because he could pay for your children and fix up your house.”
Iris moved back to stand in front of the mirror, and holding up panels of her dress, said, “Is it so awful to want nice things for your children?”
I don’t know if it’ll make sense to anyone else, but our conversation didn’t make me angry. I didn’t even need to ask if my father had known the truth about her feelings, because I knew he had been the kind of man who believed that what he wanted would come to him if he worked hard enough for it, even if that meant her love. I was also, oddly, feeling relief. I’d finally asked the one question I’d spent so many hours wondering about, and now I knew the answer. It wasn’t the answer I would have preferred, but it was the truth. And my dad had always told me that the truth was the best place on which to stand.
“Do you hate me?” Iris asked.
“No,” I said. “But I am going to leave you now and get ready for tonight.” At least now I didn’t have to feel quite as guilty if J.J. and I being in love might keep her from having another meal ticket.
As I walked down the hall towards the stairs, I passed by Buck’s room, where he stood in front of the mirror, in boxers and a tux shirt, struggling with his bow tie. Seeing me, he said, “Why can’t I have a clip-on tie?”
“I’ll help you once I’m ready,” I said.
“Duane’s here, right? He can help me.”
“Not until you put pants on,” I said. Just to be safe, to keep Duane from walking down the hall between Iris’s and Kimberly’s room and seeing anything he’d no doubt spent many hours imagining, I closed the door firmly.
From the moment we all entered the party, as I’d expected, Kimberly and Iris were the most looked-at women in the room, and Duane handed out more business cards than a candidate for senior-class president hands out flyers. J.J. and his parents went to great lengths to keep introducing them to everyone with whom they spoke, and although I didn’t really intend to, I found myself hanging back as much as possible, which gave me the view of an observer more than of a participant. Old habits die hard. It was with a mixture of pride and regret that I was really able to take in the picture of all-American perfection that J.J. and Kimberly presented beside each other. They were both so beautiful individually, that when paired together it almost seemed like a golden aura emanated from them in a self-produced spotlight, and everyone unconsciously rotated around their sun.
But then an unexpected flash of anger coursed through me. Why wasn’t that me beside J.J. being introduced to the crème de la crème, with everyone offering praise, and admiration, and wishes for a glorious future? In fact, if it were me, wouldn’t a lot of those covetous looks turn to hate, and judgement, and disgust? It wasn’t fair, and it wasn’t right. Love is supposed to be the truest and most esteemed emotion in the world, but many of these people would only be willing to admire it on their own terms, under their own rules. Rules which J.J. and I, and even Kimberly for that matter, had had no part in creating.
“Dude, your boyfriend seems to be the hit of the party,” Buck said, leaning in and putting a hand on my shoulder.
WHAT?! Buck had caught on to J.J.’s and my secret?!
But luckily I managed to keep myself from screaming out in horror, because then I realized he was looking at Duane. “Buck, do you really think I’d keep dating someone who keeps throwing himself at you?”
Buck shrugged, then waved his hands over himself as if he were a prize on a gameshow. “You might as well accept that it’s going to happen with just about anyone you bring home. The gays love me.”
“But not as much as you love yourself,” I said.
“Maybe we’ll call it a draw,” Buck said with a “modest” wink.
I rolled my eyes, but even as I did it, I felt grateful that he’d distracted me from my internal rant. To keep myself diverted, I played Buck’s wingman for a while as he caroused and flirted with just about every woman in the place under fifty. And as much as it pa
ined me to acknowledge, I had to admire his skills.
I kept checking my watch, not wanting to miss my agreed upon pre-midnight kiss with J.J., and had even gone so far as to have timed the number of minutes (or even seconds) it took me to get through the crowd to the library from just about every point in the house to which we party guests had access. By 11:45 I decided that I was going to sneak two glasses of champagne from the bar under the Millais painting I’d admired, which was between one minute and thirty-seven seconds and two minutes and fifteen seconds, depending on foot traffic, from the library threshold. I wasn’t entirely sure if I was supposed to meet J.J. there or inside, but the idea of entering on my own seemed a little presumptuous. Besides, with two glasses in my hands, I might risk spilling the champagne if I tried to open the door myself, so waiting for J.J. was probably best all around.
But then, just as I began lurking near the bar, trying to figure out if the bartender was carding anyone, I felt a hand lightly touch the small of my back and turned around to find Jonas Kennerly, J.J.’s father, smiling politely at me. Busted.
Hoping I might still be able to play off my bar proximity as accidental, I stammered through what I hoped was convincing confusion. “Uh, hello, sir. I, er … I was just … uh, wondering if, uh, you know … the, uh, wait staff needed any help with midnight dispersal. Not for myself, of course, but … um. …”
“We have enough help, Chris, thank you, but very kind of you to offer. I was wondering if I could speak to you for a minute alone.”
“Who? Me? Alone?”
“Yes, you, alone.”
“Now?”
“Unless you have something else you need to attend to.”
“Uh, well, sir—”
“Please, call me Jonas.”
“I can’t do that. I mean, I could, I’m not saying no to you, per se, but—”
“Okay, just anything but sir. I realize I’m ancient by your standards, but ‘sir’ makes me feel like I need to tip, and I do enough of that without having to worry about J.J.’s friends.”
“Yes, sir—I mean, uh, yes.”
“So can we talk?”
“Oh, right, of course. What did you want to talk about?”
He looked at all of the people in close proximity and made a “follow me” gesture with his head. “Let’s go talk in the library?”
NO, NOT THE LIBRARY! That, of course, was only in my head. Out loud I said, “Of course, sir. Not sir. I didn’t mean that.”
He laughed, then led the way through his guests, telling people who tried to engage him in conversation that he’d be right back. I didn’t check my watch, but I’d guess that these slight interruptions added a good thirty seconds to our walk to the library, so we were probably inside with the door closed by 11:50. Which meant I had five minutes until J.J. was supposed to arrive for our New Year’s Eve kiss. Because my mind was so full of these considerations, I realized that Mr. Kennerly’s mouth was moving, and I wasn’t listening to him.
He was in the middle of a sentence as I tuned in. “… and with you at the other end of the table, I didn’t get to hear your views.”
“The table?”
“Yes, Thanksgiving dinner. I really did mean to talk to you more that day, but there was a lot of family to deal with.”
“I can relate,” I said. “Pardon the pun.”
Mr. Kennerly chuckled, nodding his head. “J.J. said you were quick.”
“He did?”
“Yes, he speaks very highly of you, and he’s been exceedingly impressed with your integrity and intellect.”
“He has?” I cleared my throat. “That’s very kind of him. But we both know he’s really the one everyone looks up to.”
Mr. Kennerly cocked his head, one side of his mouth raising in an appreciative smile. “See, it’s answers like that which make me think he’s right about you.” He put a hand on my shoulder, and looked me directly in the eyes with a suddenly very serious expression. “Obviously, he has several years of schooling and seasoning left, but it’s no secret that if he chooses to pursue public service as a career, the sky could be the limit for J.J.”
I knew he was talking about political offices, and since J.J. had been talked about as a potential president of the United States from birth, he probably really meant that. But what did any of this have to do with me? Since I wasn’t quite sure what he wanted me to say, I simply nodded.
“I realize the two of you haven’t known each other that long, Chris, but when you grow up in a family like ours, it can be very hard to meet people you really trust. And J.J. trusts you. Now I know that your own interests may lie in another direction all together, so if politics isn’t for you, that’s totally understandable. Clearly I wasn’t really meant to excel in it.” He dropped his head, perhaps flashing back on the dark period of his life when he had been close to getting his party’s nomination, but then broke into tears during a press conference, and almost overnight his political career was over. He shook it off. “But J.J. is a better man than I am, and he needs to surround himself with other good men. What I’m saying is that if you ever have any interest in being a part of that team, I want you to feel free to come talk to me.”
I don’t know if you’ve ever had one of those moments when what is being said to you seems so out of someone else’s life that you wonder if you’re actually asleep. But I was having one of those. I was an eighteen-year-old high school student, and unless I was just being stupid, this guy was asking me if I had any interest in someday being part of a future presidential campaign or something. Clearly someone had slipped hallucinogenic drugs into the crudités’ dip. I just wasn’t sure which of us had eaten too much of it.
“You look a little overwhelmed,” Mr. Kennerly said. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to spring too much on you, but I’ve never known J.J. to have so much praise for anyone, and I trust his instincts. I thought I’d plant the seed. But it’s just between the two of us. J.J. doesn’t know I’m doing this.”
“I’m beyond flattered, believe me. But, Mr. Kennerly, I just don’t quite understand what you would want me to do.”
“Chris, I’m not asking you to do anything. I promise. I’m just letting you know that if you ever find yourself interested in politics, you come highly recommended, and I think we could help each other. And even if you have no interest in it—and who could blame you, it’s a very frustrating business—we always need smart people we trust to give us honest feedback. Even if you decided to become, I don’t know, a potato farmer, you could still help J.J. out by giving us a politically unbiased view into the gay community, what the chattering classes are really saying … you know, the things people won’t tell someone taking a poll.”
Now I don’t know if you caught that part about a “view into the gay community,” but those were the last of his words that I really heard, because as soon as they were out of his mouth, I was fighting the urge to run for the hills. That meant that J.J.’s dad knew that I was gay, right? What else did he know? Did he know that J.J. was gay? Did he know that his son and I were doing gay things together? Or was—oh, shit, he’d just asked me a question, hadn’t he?
“I’m sorry,” I said. “Could you repeat the question?”
“That wasn’t a question, Chris, it was an offer.”
Not helping me figure out what I missed, Mr. Kennerly.
“Dad?” Although he didn’t know he’d be helping save me from admitting to his father that I hadn’t been listening, J.J. looked equally confused as Mr. Kennerly and I turned to see him standing in the doorway to the library. “And Chris,” J.J. added, sounding almost as mystified as I felt.
“J.J.!” Mr. Kennerly said. “Chris and I were just having a little talk.”
“You were?” J.J. said, his eyes going back and forth between his dad and me. Each time his eyes landed on me, I tried to let him know with my expression that I had had nothing to do with this.
“You’re right about this one,” Mr. Kennerly said, patting my back again.
“It’s 11:55,” J.J. said, looking at me.
As overloaded as my brain was from what had just been thrown at me in the last few moments, I knew with complete sadness that what he meant was our chances of sharing our New Year’s kiss had been ruined.
“Well, then I guess we’d better get in there, hadn’t we?” Mr. Kennerly said. “Your mother will kill me if I’m not by her side at the stroke of midnight.”
“Yeah, that’s why I came looking for you,” J.J. answered, meeting my eyes briefly while shrugging apologetically, as Mr. Kennerly ushered us both out into the hallway.
We found everyone in the main salon. Iris and Jennifer Kennerly were laughing like old friends, and I’d be hard pressed to say if Kimberly or Duane looked happier at the way their night was turning out. I, on the other hand, had a lot running through my mind. While in some ways it had been nice to have J.J.’s father acknowledge homosexuality in such a casual, non-event kind of way, I was also feeling a little violated that I’d been outed to him. I mean, obviously, J.J., Duane, and my family knew, but beyond that, it had still been my secret, and I wasn’t sure how I felt about someone else telling it for me. Had J.J. done it as a way to see how his family would react? Was it his way of breaking the ice, getting them to like me, so that when he told them the truth about us, it wouldn’t seem like such a horrible thing? I guess I could see the value in that, even though it would have been nice if he’d asked if it was okay with me. But if it got us what we needed in the end, he knew how to deal with his parents better than I did, and I trusted J.J. to look out for my best interest. So maybe it was for the best. And now that I knew the truth about Iris’s feelings for my dad, and I didn’t have to feel so bad if things didn’t go as she’d planned for Kimberly and J.J., and maybe if we made sure the media kept paying attention to Kimberly, she wouldn’t really mind that we kind of used her, and she had, after all, turned out to be surprisingly sympathetic and supportive of my being gay, and she certainly accepted Duane, who was the most flamboyant person I’d ever met, and, well, maybe this wasn’t going to be such a bad New Year’s Eve after all. Things were certainly looking up for the year ahead!
My Fairy Godmother is a Drag Queen Page 17
