Seeing Me Naked

by Liza Palmer

  “The fact that—” I press.

  “Will,” Daniel says, his eyes connecting with mine.

  “What about him?” I say, the hairs on the back of my neck standing on end. Daniel crosses and recrosses his arms across his wide chest, searching for the words. All the while, I grow angrier and angrier. We’re back here again? With the Will stuff? “Why are we even talking about Will?”

  “It’s not . . . I know you’ve come to some resolution about Will, and I know you love me. It’s not that. You have to understand that Will would no sooner welcome me into your world voluntarily than he would lie down in front of oncoming traffic,” Daniel explains. Will actually did that back in high school. I won’t mention this.

  “He doesn’t have to welcome you into my world,” I say.

  “No, I know that. But he does have to take his cue from you. The fact is, you’re still tolerating his bullshit. And I know that he’s part of your family’s history and all that, but . . .”

  “But?” I say.

  “But he’s an asshole to me. And that should matter to you,” Daniel finishes.

  “It does matter to me,” I say, mixing defensiveness with anger—a wonderful mix, by the way.

  “Then where were you when he was talking about not recognizing me because I was wearing a suit?” Daniel says, his voice strong but heartbreakingly trying to soldier on.

  “I thought you wanted to handle it. You did handle it. You were perfect,” I say.

  “I shouldn’t have had to handle it on my own. I guess I just felt separate—distanced from you by that much more,” Daniel says.

  “But how does this lead to you going home for Christmas?” I ask, beginning to panic.

  Daniel’s face reddens, and he looks like he wants to say a thousand things all at one time. “You buy houses on a whim, Elisabeth! Rascal doesn’t need the house anymore? Need the house anymore? My parents have been paying off their mortgage for twenty-seven years. I just don’t understand sometimes. I felt like I was . . . like not even my posture was good enough. I know you hate this—I know you think you’re not part of it—but you are. Maybe more than you think.” I feel like my legs are going to give way. I know what he’s saying is true; I know it. I feared that once we got past all the smoke and mirrors that surround me, he would arrive at the juicy center of the Real Me and be met with a hollow void instead of the surprise bubblegum treat. I knew being seen naked meant being exposed as imperfect. I knew I should have played it safer.

  “I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable—I mean, holidays are about family,” I say, looking at the tree, the Gatorade bottle hanging askew. I grind my teeth and feel myself shutting down emotionally.

  “Elisabeth . . .” Daniel steps closer to me.

  “When do you leave?” I ask, not wanting to know the answer. Originally, I hadn’t expected to spend Christmas with Daniel, figuring he had family of his own. But when he said he was staying, I allowed myself. I hoped. I didn’t have to believe it to see it. Funny.

  “I leave tomorrow morning. Seven A.M.,” Daniel says.

  “Tomorrow morning,” I say.

  “You’ve got to give me time,” Daniel says.

  “Give you time?” I say.

  “I love you,” Daniel says, kissing me gently.

  I stand back from him. I don’t understand. You’ve seen parts of me that are not perfect, and you still love me? “What?” I ask.

  “I love you,” Daniel repeats.

  “Then why are you leaving?” I ask.

  Daniel searches for an answer. “This is just not how we do things in Kansas,” he says, almost to himself.

  “So, the ‘what’s important’ speech only works if you’re from Kansas?” I ask, my voice rising.

  “What?” Daniel asks.

  “I love you,” I say, as if it just occurred to me. This is what it feels like to do something completely unsafe and spur-of-the-moment because you want to be near the one you love. When I committed to buying Rascal’s house, I didn’t think. I didn’t calculate. In that moment, I knew I had to do whatever I could, out of love. It was a gut reaction I couldn’t control. “I bought a house. I bought a fucking house, Daniel. I don’t just buy houses like I buy shoes, despite what you may think. I never thought I’d buy a house at all. I certainly never wanted one. All I knew in that moment was I couldn’t stand being away from you,” I say.

  “Elisabeth—” Daniel tries.

  “I fucked up at the charity auction. It’s not the first time, and it won’t be the last. I’m so sorry I hurt you by not defending you in front of Will, but I didn’t want to emasculate you by coming to your rescue. Shit, I’ll stab him in the neck next time I see him if that’ll prove it to you,” I say. Daniel barks out a laugh, and it breaks the tension in the room. I stand there, exhausted and smiling. “This is scary and overwhelming for both of us—for both of us. I’m not asking you to move in with me, Daniel. I’m just asking you to love me as big and messy as I love you.”

  “I should have been in on it. We’re a team,” Daniel presses.

  “I thought you could put up a basketball hoop in the driveway,” I say.

  “I need to know that I can take care of you.”

  “That’s what all this is about?” I ask.

  “I don’t know if I could put up a basketball hoop at a house I didn’t buy,” Daniel whispers.

  “You have a lot to learn about being a team, then,” I say. Daniel is silent. I continue, “I want to go to Samuel and Margot’s dinner party/housewarming thing. It will give you some time. Give me some time,” I say, finding my purse and fishing my keys out.

  “I’ll go with you,” Daniel offers.

  “No, please. I’ll go by myself,” I say, kissing him gently. Daniel holds me close, his eyes imploring, sad and frustrated. He kisses me once more. I open the door and then close it tightly behind me.

  Chapter Forty-one

  My BlackBerry rings from the pocket of the jeans I’m wearing. I can’t feel my face. I dig in my pocket as I walk back out to my car on my way to Samuel and Margot’s.

  “Merry Christmas Eve, darling!” Mom says. “I’ve planned an impromptu Christmas Eve at our house. I hope you don’t mind. Rascal’s driven in from Montana.” Rascal lives and dies by the open road. Any normal person would have flown here for the holiday festivities, but the highway is like therapy for Rascal.

  “Remember Samuel and Margot invited me over to their house for Christmas Eve?” I say. Usually, our family saves the festivities for Christmas Day.

  “Your father and Rascal have spoken, darling,” Mom begins.

  “And?” I ask.

  “It seems your father will be joining us for Christmas dinner.” Mom’s voice is tentative. She’s obviously testing the waters.

  “That sounds lovely,” I say. I relax a little, trusting Rascal’s decision completely.

  “So you’ll be in Montecito on Christmas, correct?”

  “Bright and early,” I say.

  “Will Daniel be joining us for dinner?” Mom asks.

  “Oh . . . he decided to celebrate Christmas at home. He’s flying out tomorrow morning,” I say.

  “I never got a chance to speak with him properly, darling. We’ll set up a lunch with him soon. Is that all right?” she asks.

  “He’d love it,” I say, aching and fearing that my big, messy love is too much for the boy from Kansas.

  I sign off with Mom and head over to the local 7-Eleven, the only store open on Christmas Eve. I buy a bottle of white wine.

  “Welcome! Welcome!” Margot opens the door or, should I say, her stomach opens the door.

  “My God, woman,” I say, contorting around her belly to give her a big hug. I hand the wine to Samuel as Oberon wags his tail, hoping to be next in line for some attention; he looks healthy. I kiss Samuel on both cheeks and take in their new home.

  “Where’s Daniel?” Margot asks.

  “He decided to go home for Christmas. He sends his regards,” I say,
smiling. My voice is smooth and mechanical. I don’t add that I fear our relationship is over and that while I sit here enjoying wine and good conversation, my boyfriend is packing up and getting as far away from my crazy ass as possible.

  “I wish you’d seen the place before,” Margot says, handing me a glass of wine. The large living room is decorated with overstuffed couches in beautiful shades of red and brown. At present, however, the entire room revolves around a giant birthing pool set up in the dead center. Quite the icebreaker at parties, I expect.

  Samuel brings out a cheese plate and sets it on the leather ottoman to the left of the birthing pool. He offers me a place on the couch. I walk around the birthing pool and sit. I can’t help but take it in. It looks like a grown-up kiddie pool. Put some jets in this puppy, and you’ve got yourself an indoor Jacuzzi.

  “We gutted the kitchen. Samuel’s little sandbox, I call it,” Margot says later on as we finish a beautiful Sierra apple tarte tatin with crème fraîche. Samuel is quiet, cradling a mug of yogi tea, taking in his wife.

  “Do you need anything? More wine?” Margot lifts herself from her chair and doubles over. “Aaaaaaaarghhhhhh!” She holds her belly, and Samuel leaps up from the couch.

  “What? What is it?” His voice cracks.

  “I think my water broke, baby. My water broke. Call Joanne! Call the midwife! Oh my God.” Margot looks up at Samuel. The purest expression. Love in all of its big, messy glory. Samuel leads her to the bathroom.

  I start to disentangle myself from what’s going to be a pretty intimate affair, but Margot implores me to stay. She says she’ll need the company because giving birth is probably going to take most of the night. She takes my hand and says, “Please?” I realize I have nowhere else to go. All of my belongings are in boxes at Rascal’s house—I should probably stop referring to it as Rascal’s. I’m not quite ready to go back to Daniel’s. I could drive up the coast to Montecito, but I wouldn’t have anything along. I accept this most outlandish of invitations: dinner party turned birthing party.

  Watching a woman give birth doesn’t seem real. It’s like a dream. Margot in her polka-dotted bikini being helped into the birth pool. The midwife is calm and I don’t catch her name. I also don’t know if her role is any different from Joanne’s. I keep this realization to myself, certain my ignorance in this matter would be the object of much derision. Joanne and her assistant calmly and serenely walk around, timing contractions and asking Margot how she’s feeling. Samuel paces, paces, paces. I take on the role of court jester, busily yammering on about anything I can think of. Margot laughs in her haze. After a while, Oberon and I stand back and watch. The blur of life is beginning all around us. Music is playing throughout the house. Fresh-cut flowers are everywhere. There is laughter, there are phone calls to be made. Life is coming. Life is pushing its way into this little house in the hills.

  “Okay, Margot, sweetheart, you’re fully dilated,” the midwife says, Joanne right at her side. As the sun comes up, there is not one anecdote or joke left at the bottom of my bag of tricks. I’ve been a one-woman all-night telethon where the only calls have been from Daniel. He’s been calling me all night. I’ve let the calls go straight to voice mail.

  “I’m ready,” Margot says. Samuel has changed into his swim shorts with no shirt. I’ve gotten used to a half-naked Margot being escorted around the house for bathroom breaks and leg stretches. Samuel’s family is on the way from New Orleans, and Margot’s family is taking the red-eye in from Wisconsin. They should all be arriving shortly.

  “Okay, Margot, go ahead and focus for me,” the midwife says. The sloshing water and the scent of candles will be forever burned in my brain. Jasmine, I think. I sit in the chair and hold my mug of steaming yogi tea. I made up a batch somewhere around four in the morning. I also baked off a batch of scones, and I laid them out on a tray sometime around five-thirty. When in doubt—bake.

  With every quiet moment, I’m haunted by Daniel’s absence. There’s something bigger happening here this morning. No squeaky hospital floors. No heart monitors and tubes everywhere. That scared me at first. I thought it would be gross or hard to look at. But all I’ve seen this morning is family. Life. Soothing water and soft music. Its very simplicity is stunningly beautiful. I remember again how I’ve tried to complicate everything over the years. Each dessert the carefully measured set of cabalistic ingredients. Each relationship a complex maze of fear and no trust. That perfection is somehow an attainable goal. I think of my new approach to food. “Simple and pure” is not ordinary or pedestrian. Having someone see me naked, warts and all, and love me anyway is by far the sweetest delicacy of all.

  There is more water sloshing. Samuel sits behind Margot in the pool. Her full weight is leaning on him. Her hair is wet and braided tightly. That was one thing I could do for her.

  Margot’s face contorts in pain, and Samuel holds her.

  “Here he is! Okay, sweetheart, the baby’s here!” The midwife reaches below the water, and Margot’s face relaxes. She immediately wells up with tears. Samuel is crying. We’re all crying.

  “It’s a boy! It’s a boy!” Even Oberon gets up for that minute and walks toward the birthing pool. Samuel curls over Margot’s exhausted body as the midwife brings the baby up to Margot’s polka-dotted bikini, and there. Right there.

  Flash.

  That indelible image of Margot, Samuel, and their tiny son is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. Everyone is looking at everyone else. Are you seeing this? they must be thinking. His tiny, tiny hands. His little eyes blinking and blinking. He cries and sniffles. Margot and Samuel are gazing at the boy. They kiss. Samuel smoothes her hair. She can’t stop crying and touching the baby all over. Is he real? Is he okay? Samuel quietly wipes away tear after tear.

  “What will you name him, dear?” Joanne says, offering Samuel the tools to cut the umbilical cord. He does so with precision and confidence. Margot and Samuel look at the boy.

  “Julian,” Samuel says.

  Margot looks up at Samuel and kisses him right on the jaw-line. It’s so impromptu and, oddly enough, private. Joanne begins the cleanup as the midwife climbs out of the birthing pool. Margot tries to get Julian to breast-feed, but there’s far too much commotion. At last Margot looks at me. Her eyes are gleaming and full of life. I can’t get myself under control.

  “Isn’t he beautiful, Elisabeth?” Margot asks.

  “He’s unimaginable. He’s gorgeous,” I say. As I look at Julian, I allow tear after tear to fall. Thank God I’m in a room where everyone is crying, even Julian.

  Oh, God. It’s happening. Do I just walk around like this? How do people walk around like this? Am I going to start crying at movies now? I thought it was an aberration when I got teary watching an ad for Toys for Tots the other day. Did that start to open the floodgates? Is this the Big Bang I’ve been waiting for? Not the moment my two worlds collided but the moment I collided with myself?

  “Do you want to hold him?” Samuel walks over to me with his brand-new baby boy. His face looks so calm, like he’s been fulfilled somehow.

  I look right in Samuel’s deep brown eyes and hold out my arms. “Yes, I’d love to,” I answer. Samuel adjusts Julian’s silk cowboy blankie and passes him to me. Julian is cooing and simultaneously sucking on his entire tiny hand. His eyes are calm, and he looks up at me with an unblinking wisdom. His little fingernails. His tiny nose. His dimpled chin. He’s perfect.

  “You are quite the Christmas gift,” I coo. I am swaying back and forth, cradling Julian.

  Samuel looks on. “You’re putting him to sleep,” he says. The phone rings. It’s been ringing all morning. Samuel asks if I’ll hold Julian while he gets the phone. I nod. I hear Samuel in the distance. The proud papa. He’s giving directions to the new house. He says to bring food and drink. There’s laughter, and Samuel says his son’s name. His voice catches.

  “Julian,” he says.

  “They almost named you Lot,” I whisper, swaying back an
d forth. Julian’s eyes close. If he only knew.

  I slip out when Margot and Samuel’s families converge upon the house. Samuel asks me to do him a quick favor—he thinks he might have left his cell phone at the Santa Monica house. Could I stop by and see on my way to Montecito? I have to drop in and get some clothes for my trip up the coast anyway, so I tell him I will, and I hop in my car. It’s barely six in the morning. There’s no traffic as I head down onto Sunset Boulevard. Daniel’s probably at the airport already. I check the time once more. He probably hasn’t boarded yet. I dial his cell phone. Please pick up. Please pick up.

  “Hello?” His voice is urgent.

  “Hey,” I say.

  “Where are you? Where have you been?” Daniel asks.

  “Margot had the baby. He’s just lovely. They named him Julian.”

  “Where are you?” Daniel asks again.

  “I’m driving from Silver Lake over to the Santa Monica house before I head on up to Montecito. Samuel thinks he left his cell phone there, and I’ve got to grab some extra clothes. But I just—”

  “Elisabeth, I’m so sorry about last night,” Daniel begins.

  “You don’t have to be. It’s the holidays. They make people do crazy things—like buy houses. You can’t get rid of me that easily,” I add, weaving through the empty streets of Los Angeles.

  “I can’t?” Daniel softens. I can hear the smile in his voice. I have to take this leap of faith. Loving someone and letting him know how important he is won’t automatically trigger his inevitable exodus from my life. With Daniel, I’m home. It’s pure and simple. Not because of who he is but because of who I am when I allow myself to be trusted and loved.

  “No, you can’t,” I say, finally acclimating to this big, new aquarium.

  “Okay, well, merry Christmas. Merry Christmas to your family,” Daniel says.

  “Merry Christmas,” I say. Daniel signs off. I’m glad I caught him but wish we had more time before he flew home.