Family Album

by Danielle Steel

  “I don't know. He looks different to me suddenly. Didn't you notice something about him tonight?”

  “No,” she lied.

  “I don't know …” He walked slowly to his closet and hung up his jacket, still wearing the same frown. “I just get a funny feeling about him.” Faye felt her whole body grow cold. She wondered if he had the same suspicions about their son. And like Lionel, she wasn't at all sure he could survive knowing the truth, although maybe he would have to one day. In the meantime, she was dedicated to keeping the truth from him. “Maybe I should say something to Lionel. Warn him … he may think I'm nuts, but if I'm right, he may thank me someday. Greg thought there was something wrong with him when he turned down that scholarship at Georgia Tech. Maybe he was right.” It was their ultimate criterion, much to Faye's chagrin.

  Faye looked suddenly annoyed. “Just because he doesn't want to play football doesn't mean he's gay for chrissake. Maybe he's interested in other things.”

  “You never see him with girls.” They didn't see Lionel with girls either, but Faye didn't point that out to him. And she knew Ward just assumed that Lionel kept his love life to himself . He did not assume he was carrying on with men, just because he didn't see the girls. But she didn't point that out to him.

  “I think you're being unfair. It's like a witch hunt, for God's sake.”

  “I just don't want Lionel living with some damn queer, and not realizing it.”

  “I'm sure he's old enough to figure it out for himself. If that's the case.”

  “Maybe not. He's so wrapped up in those crazy films of his. Sometimes I think he's completely lost in his own world.” Well, he had noticed that much about his oldest son at least, she told herself.

  “He's a remarkably creative boy.” She was anxious to get Ward off the subject of John. And she had to admit, there had been something different about him tonight. But instinctively, she felt a need to protect him. She suspected that he was involved with John. Only Lionel still didn't look like what he was, and John was beginning to, and he had talked a lot about decorating and interior design. Maybe it was time she said something to Lionel about him. “Have you seen Li's last film, sweetheart? It's beautiful.”

  Ward sighed and sat down on their bed in his shorts. He was still a beautiful man, and at forty-eight he was as well built as his sons. “Just between us, Faye, I have to tell you it's not my cup of tea.”

  “It's a whole new wave, sweetheart.”

  “It still isn't something I understand.”

  She smiled at him. He was so good at what he did, but he was rarely open to new ideas. He put packages together for her films, but he was interested in none of the new and more exotic trends in films. He had hated the Cannes film festival that year. But he loved the Academy Awards and had been disappointed when she hadn't won another one. He had bought her a beautiful emerald ring to make up for it, and it reminded her of the old days before 1952 when everything changed for them. “You ought to give Li's films a chance, love. One of these days he's going to surprise the hell out of you and win an award for one of those odd little films.” She was convinced of it, but Ward didn't look impressed.

  “Good for him. Did you hear from Greg today? He said he'd call about the weekend he wants us to come down.”

  “No he didn't call, and I'm not sure I can. I've got meetings with the new script writer every day for the next three weeks.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “More or less. Why don't you ask Lionel to go with you?” Ward didn't look sure, but in the end he did, and it gave him the perfect opening to ask him about John when he extended the invitation to him.

  “You don't think he's a fag, do you, Li?”

  Lionel forced himself to keep a blank look in his eyes. He hated that word, and it took every ounce of restraint not to lash out in defense of his friend. “For heaven's sake, what makes you say a thing like that?”

  Ward smiled. “You look just like your mother when you say that.” But then his face sobered rapidly. “I don't know. He looks different to me suddenly and he talks about decorating all the time.”

  “That's ridiculous. That doesn't make him gay.”

  “No, but chasing men would. Watch out he doesn't go after you. And if you sense anything weird about him, throw him out of that house. You don't owe him a thing.” For the first time in his life, Lionel had to fight the urge to punch his father out, but he managed to appear calm until he left his parents' house, and he drove all the way back at eighty miles an hour, wanting to kill somebody, mainly his Dad. When he reached the house, he slammed the front door, and a moment later, slammed the door to his room and locked the door. It was one of the rare times his roommates had ever seen him out of control, and everyone looked shocked. And a while later, John wandered into his own room and locked his door as well. He walked quickly through the bathroom that joined the two rooms.

  “What's wrong, love?” Lionel looked up at John with fire in his eyes, and he had to admit to himself that John was beginning to look gay. In spite of the well-muscled physique, there was something smooth and pure about his face, he was wearing his hair differently, and his clothes were almost too perfect, too stylish, too neat, but he loved the boy, loved his talent, his warm heart, his giving ways, his body, his soul, he loved everything about him, and if he were a girl, they would already have been engaged and no one would have been surprised. But he was not, so everyone called him queer. “What's wrong?” He sat down quietly in a chair and waited for Lionel to unload.

  “Nothing. I don't want to talk about it.”

  John looked at the ceiling quietly and then back at his friend. “That's a dumb way to handle it. Why not get it off your chest?” And then, suddenly he suspected that it had to do with him. “Did I do something to upset you, Li?” He looked so worried and hurt, that Lionel walked over to him and gently touched his cheek.

  “No … it has nothing to do with you….” But it did, and he didn't know how to explain it to him. “It's nothing. My father just pissed me off.”

  “Did he say something about us?” He had correctly sensed that Ward had been staring at him the other night. “Does he suspect?”

  Lionel wanted to be vague, but John was too sharp. “He might. I think he's just feeling around.”

  “What did you say?” John looked concerned. What if he said something to the Wells? They had so much to hide. What if they had him arrested, or sent away, or … it was terrifying thinking of it all, but Lionel kissed his neck and spoke to him soothingly. He knew how worried he got.

  “Relax. He's just talking off the top of his head. He doesn't know anything.”

  John had tears in his eyes. “Do you want me to move out?”

  “No!” Lionel almost shouted the word. “Not unless I go too. But we don't have to do that.”

  “Do you think hell say something to my Dad?”

  “Stop being so paranoid. He just made some cracks and he pissed me off, that's all. It's not the end of the world.” But to pacify Ward, Lionel went to Alabama with him, to watch Greg play ball, and it was the most boring weekend he had ever spent in his life. He hated football almost as much as John, and he had nothing to say to Greg. Worse yet, there were endless painful silences with his Dad, who went berserk as he watched the game when one of their star players suffered an injury and the coach put Greg in his place, just in time for Greg to score a touchdown in the last two and a half seconds of the game and win for his team. Lionel tried to feign the same excitement as Ward felt but it just wasn't there, and he was desperately relieved on the flight home, as he talked film to him, and tried to explain what he was working on. But as he had felt that he might as well have been on the moon as he watched Greg play, his father looked at him as he described his latest avant-garde film.

  “Do you really think you can make money with something like that one day?” Lionel looked at him, stupefied, it was a goal that had never entered his mind. They were trying out new techniques, stretching the lang
uage of film to its utmost. Who gave a damn about making money on it? This was much more important than that, and the two men stared at each other in confused disbelief, each convinced that the other was a fool, yet feeling the burden of pretending that they respected the other's views. It was a terrible strain for both of them, and they both looked relieved to see Faye waiting for them at the gate. Ward talked endlessly about Greg's extraordinary touchdown, crushed that she hadn't watched it on TV, and Lionel looked at her as though he couldn't have stood a moment more. She laughed to herself, knowing them both so well and how different they were, yet she loved them both, just as she loved her other son, and the girls. They were just all very different people, who needed different things from her.

  She dropped Ward off at home first, and then said that she would run Lionel home, and come back in time for a drink with Ward. It gave her a few minutes to talk to her oldest son, and commiserate over the boring weekend he had had.

  “Was it terrible, love?” She smiled at the look on his face, and he groaned as he leaned his head back against the seat after they dropped his father off at home. He had never felt as exhausted in his entire life.

  “Worse. It was like going to another planet and trying to talk their language all weekend long.” She wondered if it was just the boredom of the sport, or the strain of pretending to be straight, but she didn't ask.

  “Poor thing. How was Greg?”

  “The same.” He didn't need to say more to her. She knew how little they had in common. Sometimes it was hard to believe that they were both her sons. And then she asked him what she had worried about all weekend long.

  “Did your father ask about John?”

  Lionel's face went tense and he sat up again. “No. Why? Has he said anything else to you?” He sought her eyes, he still hadn't admitted anything to her, but he knew that she knew without being told, and he wasn't sure what she thought. He had a feeling that she thought it was too close to home, and in some ways she was right.

  “I think you ought to be careful, li.”

  “I am, Mom.” He sounded very young and her heart went out to him.

  “Are you in love with him?” It was the first time she had asked, and he nodded with serious eyes.

  “Yes.”

  “Then be careful, for both your sakes. Do the Wells know about John?”

  Lionel shook his head, and Faye felt a ripple of fear course up her spine as she drove home alone again. One day it would all come out, and someone would get hurt … maybe a lot of people would … John, Lionel … the Wells … Ward … she didn't care so much about John and his family, although she was fond of them … but she was terrified about what it would do to Ward … and Lionel…. She thought that Lionel could probably weather the storm. He was growing up, unconsciously preparing himself to face that one day, not just from his father, but from everyone. Lionel wasn't the kind of man to hide for the rest of his life. But Faye wasn't sure how Ward would survive the shock. It would destroy a part of him, she knew that, and it terrified her. But there was nothing she could do. Lionel had promised to be discreet. And at that moment, he had just locked his bedroom door, and was quietly kissing John, and then sighed as he told him how lonely the weekend had been.

  CHAPTER 21

  On Christmas Day, Lionel joined his family for their traditional Christmas dinner. Greg was home for a few days, although he had to go back early to play another game, and Ward was going with him. And after that, they were flying to the Super Bowl. Ward wanted Lionel to come too, but he insisted that he had other plans, and Ward looked annoyed, but Faye distracted them all with an enormous turkey, and champagne for all. Valerie drank a little too much, and everyone teased Van. She looked absolutely beautiful in a new hairdo and a new dress. She was in love for the first time, with a boy she had met at a school dance several weeks before, and she looked suddenly grown up. Even Anne had changed remarkably this year. In the past few months, she had sprouted up, and she was as tall as the twins, though she hadn't come into her own yet, but she was getting there. Lionel reminded them all as he toasted her, and she blushed, that she would be fourteen in a few weeks. And after dinner, Lionel and Anne sat by the fire and talked. He saw her less than he would have liked to these days, not so much because he was living out of the house, but because of his work on the film, but it was clear that he still adored her, and it was mutual. And then she surprised him by asking for John, and there was an odd look in her eyes when she did, as though she had a crush on him, and he was surprised that he hadn't realized it before. But everything about her was so hidden and so clandestine, it wasn't surprising that he hadn't noticed it.

  “He's fine. I guess he's doing all right in school. I don't see him very much.”

  “He's still living at your house though, isn't he? I saw Sally Wells the other day, and she said he loved it there.” Sally Wells was Anne's age, but she was far more mature, and he prayed that Sally hadn't figured things out and told Anne, but it didn't look as though she had. Anne still had that light of innocence and hope in her eyes.

  “Yes, he's still there.”

  “I haven't seen him in a long time.” She looked at Lionel wistfully and he wanted to laugh she looked so sweet, but he didn't say anything.

  “I'll tell him you said hello.” She nodded and the others came in. Ward lit a fire, and they were all pleased with their gifts, and Ward and Faye looked over each other's heads and smiled. It had been a good year all around.

  Lionel was the first to leave, as was John at the Wells' home. The other boys were all gone for the holidays. They had the whole house to themselves, so they didn't have to hide and lock their bedroom doors. It was wonderful being able to relax and be themselves. It was a strain being careful all the time, especially for John, who seemed to be growing more obviously effeminate day by day. Now he could fill the house with flowers, and spend long hours in bed with Lionel every afternoon, who was taking a break from his film over the holidays. The two boys took long walks, and talked a lot, and came home to cook and drink hot toddies or white wine by the fire.

  It was almost like being grown up, John teased, so much so that they didn't even bother to lock the front door, and never heard Lionel's father walk in the day after Christmas Day. He had stopped in to see if he could talk Lionel into flying South with him after all, and watching Greg play, before all three of them went to the Super Bowl. But the thought went right out of his head, as he walked quietly in after no one had answered his knock, and he found the two boys lying near the fire, fully dressed, but with John's head nestled in Lionel's lap, Li's head bent low, saying something endearing to him. Ward stopped and uttered an almost animal groan, as the two boys jumped and looked up, and Lionel's face went white. They both scrambled to their feet, and without thinking, Ward advanced toward John angrily, and took a vicious swing at him, making his nose bleed at once, and then he swung at Lionel, but Li grabbed his arm and stopped the blow before it reached his face. There were tears in his eyes, and his father was crying with rage, screaming obscenities at both of them.

  “You little sonofabitch … you whore … !” The words were meant for John, but he was shouting them at his son, too, his eyes blinded by fury and tears. He couldn't believe what he had just seen. He wanted them to take it back, to tell him it wasn't true, but it was, and there was no hiding from it now. Lionel felt physically sick as he held his father away from him, and John had begun to cry. It was a nightmarish scene and Lionel was attempting to keep calm. He felt as if his whole life was in question now, and he had to explain it to him. Maybe he would understand … he had to try desperately to explain how different he had always been from Greg … from all of them … how he had felt … he didn't even feel the tears pouring down his cheeks, or the blow when his father finally freed his hands and slapped his face.

  “Dad, please … I want to talk to you … I… “

  “I don't want to hear any of it!” He was trembling from head to foot and Lionel was suddenly terrified he woul
d have a heart attack. “I never want to see you again! You two fag bitches!” He looked at them both. “You scum!” And then at Lionel. “You're not my son anymore, you little queen. I never want to see you in my house again. I won't pay another dime for your support. You are out of my life from now on, is that clear? And stay away from my family!” He was sobbing and shouting and he advanced menacingly on John again. All his dreams had been shattered at once. His oldest son was queer. It was more than he could bear, more than losing his fortune years before or the threat of his losing his wife shortly after that … in his eyes, this was even worse than a death. It was a loss he would never understand, and in some ways a loss he was inflicting on himself, but he didn't realize that. “You're through! Is that clear?” Lionel nodded his head numbly, and staggering toward the door he had come in only moments before, Ward almost fell blindly down the stairs as he left. The shock was too much for him. He went straight to the nearest bar, had four scotches straight up, and at eight o'clock Faye called Lionel with a worried voice. She hated to bother him, but it didn't make sense. They had been expecting guests at six o'clock and Ward hadn't come home. They said he had left the studio early that afternoon, and she couldn't imagine where he'd gone.

  “Darling, did your father call you today?” Lionel was still numb. John had been sobbing on the couch for hours, aghast at what had been said, the end result, and the fear that Ward would tell his parents too. Lionel had tried to calm him and had forced him to put an ice pack on his swollen cheek and nose, and he felt an anguish in his own heart that no one could soothe now. His voice was still trembling when he answered the phone, and he couldn't answer her at first. And then suddenly, with an icy chill, she realized something was wrong. “Li … sweetheart, are you all right?”

  “I … yuh … I…” The words were unintelligible, and suddenly he began to sob too, as John sat up and stared at him. He had been so calm, so strong, and suddenly he was falling apart. “Mom … I … can't …”