When I came back out, Sinead O’Connor’s stunning face filled every screen, singing “Nothing Compares 2 U” against a black backdrop. It was the most dramatic video, very unlike the heavy metal videos in our room. Through the fog I found Andrew perched at the bar, his eyes following a guy who was walking away. “Hey,” I called.
Andrew waved dramatically. “How do we like it?”
“It’s great.”
“You know it’s gay, right?”
“I kind of got that impression.” I did an excellent portrayal of someone poised and comfortable with herself.
“Look,” Andrew said, “if you ever need anything, I’m here to help. And I’d like to start with your hair and clothes. Ahhh!”
I smacked his arm. “Sorry. I’m not into spandex.” I leaned against the bar, cradling the beer he got for me. “Thanks,” I said, raising it to toast with his. “Who was that guy?” I glanced at the one who was walking in the opposite direction.
“He doesn’t know it yet, but he’s going to be mine.”
I shook my head, laughing. “God, I wish I had your confidence.”
“So who is she?”
“Who is who?” I did my best innocent face, but he wasn’t as gullible as I hoped. “It’s no one. Trust me. She’s absolutely no one.”
He grinned broadly. “Ooh, then I must know all about this absolute nobody.”
“No, really.”
“C’mon! I want all the sordid details!”
“There are none!” I shouted over the music.
“You must be in love if you’re this upset.”
He was a sage in spandex. Seeing that I wasn’t ready to talk about it yet, he took my hand and escorted me out on the dance floor.
“Honey, we’re going to have some fun!” He started moving his hips more than any straight guy I knew. Some of his moves looked like they might be illegal.
That night, I had fun. I danced under the lights and forgot about my hair, my face, how I looked to anyone else. The boys weren’t scanning me because they were all gay and didn’t care, and most of the lesbians seemed to be coupled off anyway. It was okay. It was fun—something I could get used to. I might even want to do it again.
* * *
An hour later, a slow song came on, so I decided to sit it out and wait at the only empty chrome table. I watched as couples made up of two boys or two girls danced so easily with each other, without ridicule or judgment. Here everyone was fine with everyone else. It was beautiful. There was no fear. And the way they held each other…I was so entranced by the scene, I hardly noticed when Carol showed up.
“They’ve got a bathroom that’s too pretty to pee in,” she said, taking a seat beside me.
“Hey, you made it.” I helped pull out her chair.
“So where is she?” Carol asked.
“Where is who?” I watched as Andrew ordered more beers for us at the bar.
“The bitch.” Carol didn’t mince words.
“Shut up.” I might have thought it, but I didn’t want anyone else saying it.
“Where is she tonight?” Carol pressed.
“With her boyfriend.”
“Of course she is. C’mon.”
I winced. “Don’t say it. Please.”
“That she’s straight?”
“She was almost with me tonight!” Of course I heard how pathetic that sounded.
“Maybe she’s not straight,” Carol said. “Maybe she’s bisexual. But if the boyfriend trumps you, I say fuck her.”
Just then, Andrew came over. “Hey, Carol!” He beamed. “Fancy seeing you here.”
She waved her hand. “Don’t get all excited. This isn’t a date.”
“Do you want it to be?” Quickly, he threw up his hand. “None of my business!”
She sneered at him. “Bite your tongue.”
Did I miss something? I’d been too wrapped up in my own drama to notice anything, or anyone, else.
“So what’re your holiday plans?” Andrew asked, changing the subject.
“I go home tomorrow,” I replied. “What about you?”
“To Naziville?” he said, rolling his eyes.
I nodded with understanding. Why did the nicest people so often get more than their share of torture? It wasn’t fair.
“It’s okay,” he continued. “I’m staying with some friends.” He looked at Carol.
“Gotta go to Albany,” Carol muttered. “My mom’s all freaked that I haven’t visited in a while. But she’ll be planted on the couch the whole time, while my Gucci sisters squawk about their husbands. It’s fucking annoying.”
“Sorry,” I said softly.
She seemed more agitated toward me than usual. Maybe she’d forgotten her medication. I was concerned about her driving with all the medicine she took and the side effects, not to mention the fact that she was drinking. But she told us all to leave her alone about it, that she had a license and that it was none of our business.
“What do you care?” Carol snapped.
“Hey,” I retorted. “Why are you so hostile?”
“She’s pissed at me,” Carol informed Andrew. “’Cause I speak the truth.” Then she mouthed to me: “The bitch.”
“The truth is overrated,” Andrew said.
“Amen!” I laughed.
“So Andrew,” Carol said. “Did you ever pine over some psycho?”
I shook my head. “Don’t start this.”
“All the time, sweetie,” he answered. “The worst was Jay in Denver. He didn’t know I existed. I stood outside his window in a tank top and got frostbite in places, well, you know.”
“What color was the tank top?” Carol asked.
I looked peculiarly at her. “What?”
“I’m serious,” she continued. “What color?”
He replied, “Orange.”
Carol sat back. “That was your first mistake.”
“Aahh!” When Andrew laughed his trademark laugh, somehow all was right with the world. “Will I be seeing you here at the club again?” he asked me.
“Maybe.” For a fleeting second, I thought about bringing Adrienne here. Then I pictured her heavy metal gang, and promptly dismissed the idea.
* * *
When we left the club, Andrew led me back to his car. We waved to Carol, who was parked on the other side of the lot. We didn’t even get off the curb before a gang of college guys taunted us from the shadows: “Hey, faggot!”
Andrew kept walking through the parking lot. I turned around to see them, but I couldn’t make out faces in the dark. “Why don’t you say something?” I urged him.
“And get the shit beat out of me? No thanks.” He fumbled for his keys.
“Are you a dyke?” Another guy yelled.
Rage and heat pulsed through my body. So this was the life that awaited me if I indulged my feelings and continued through the door I’d opened. Adrienne wasn’t even here tonight. I had a choice. I could shut the door and get on with a normal life. Or I could, as Andrew so succinctly put it, get the shit beaten out of me. The choice seemed clear. It was time to run away from the snakes.
Chapter Forty-Eight
“You’re back, from wherever it was you were.” Tom gave an uneasy smile.
But Robin wasn’t back. Something had changed inside her, and she couldn’t go back to being the person she had been anymore.
Tom saw it in her face. It was as if gravity was the only thing holding her to the earth at this moment. Otherwise, she was detached, almost robotic, a woman who still looked like his wife, but nothing more. He fidgeted in the chair that nobody ever used in their bedroom. He was dressed casually in his favorite polo shirt, obviously not working today. He struggled to confront her; she could feel the anger, the fear, rising in him.
“Are you going to tell me where you went?” he asked. “Or will I hear it on the news?”
She closed her eyes. Of course this had to be torturous for him. She’d been only fleetingly aware of the impact on him. Now she
had to see it, something she’d never been very good at—seeing things she didn’t want to—ever since her last day at Florida State. “It’s not public knowledge,” she said, setting her suitcase down on the bed. “I went to Boston.”
“Boston?” His face reddened. “Who lives in Boston? As if I didn’t know!” He jumped up and punched the hangers in the closet, knocking down as much clothing as he could, feeling contempt for the sequins, the designer fabrics, all mementos of this life of privilege and emptiness.
She shuddered at the sound of his anger. “Tom…”
“I knew this wasn’t a marriage. You kept saying otherwise, so I thought I was being paranoid.” He smiled ironically. “When you admitted the affair, I told myself, well, it was some wild college days. I had spring break in Daytona. Now?”
She could see the beads of sweat breaking out above his upper lip.
“It’s more, isn’t it?” His eyes crinkled as he tried to make sense of his life.
“No.” She closed her eyes again.
“Tell me, does this woman still mean something to you?” His arms were folded. He appeared as though he were interrogating a witness in court.
“No…I don’t know.” She fell upon the bed, hunched over the edge. She didn’t want to look at him or deal with any of this. All the way back on her plane, she had to endure the quiet faces of her staff, all speculating. All she could do was stare out the window, dive into the clouds…here she could only see Tom’s darkened, heartbroken face. It was more than she could handle. She had a debate to prepare for, but her life was unraveling.
“Obviously she does.” He stood over her, refusing to let her look away.
“I know about Darlene,” she said calmly. As his eyes widened with rage, she added, “I don’t blame you.”
“Well, that’s real gracious of you!”
She stood up and grabbed him by the shirt. “I don’t blame you,” she repeated until he stopped breathing so hard.
After a few minutes, they stood there in the perfectly decorated bedroom beside the matching linens and custom wood furniture, leaning against each other, their foreheads touching, as if anchoring each other. It was a solemn moment when neither of them knew what to do next.
“I know you’re confused,” Tom said, rubbing his face. “I know you’re hurting.” He grabbed her shoulders, facing her. “But we can get through this.”
“No, we can’t.” It seemed so clear to her now…
“We have to. You need to get elected.” He rushed to the closet to pick up the mess he made. It was like a switch was flipped and he instantly became someone else.
“This isn’t fair to you, Tom.” She knew he was right from a political perspective. But after Boston, she wanted to lift the veil, to be honest, especially with her family.
“No, Robin. It’s fine.” His eyes were remote. “It wasn’t what I wanted.” He tightened his lips. “I wanted you to be the one.” He began changing into a suit. “But we work with the hand we’re dealt. And we have a duty to each other. There’s your reputation to consider and mine.”
As he fastened his tie, it became clear what he wanted.
“You deserve more,” she said quietly.
“We can revisit this after you’re elected.” He was almost chipper, the immediate change in his demeanor almost chilling. “In the meantime, I can sleep in the guest room if that makes you more comfortable.”
“What about Darlene?”
“She understands the situation.”
“It’s my fault, Tom,” she cried. “All these years, trying so hard to…you deserve better.”
“Will you stop saying that!” he shouted, then donned a plastic smile again, trying to regain his composure. “It doesn’t matter.”
“Doesn’t it?”
He shook his head. “We have obligations.”
She noticed he was dressed in his finest black suit.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“The family photo shoot? For the holiday card?” he replied. “Have you forgotten? You haven’t forgotten about Kendrick.”
The dig about their daughter left her cold, a flailing attempt at making her feel even guiltier. Of course, the holiday photo. Every year they had to do something more spectacular than the year before. They were running out of exotic backdrops already. This year they were planning on a simple waterfall setting. In order to do that, however, the nearby park had to be closed to the public for the photo shoot, and the photographer, who wasn’t used to working with water, had begun complaining about getting moisture on his lenses. She wanted to tell him, and everyone, to go to hell.
When Tom left, she went into the walk-in closet, aimlessly looking for a suitable outfit. As she flipped through the line of suits, she thought about what Tom had said. For so many years she believed as he did, that it was necessary to play a role to get ahead in a political career. There didn’t seem to be any way she could blend her dream career with her personal happiness. The two never seemed to connect. When she tried to explore solutions in her mind, searching for options, it was useless. They all led to dead ends.
Chapter Forty-Nine
Most of my friends were Protestant. But I also had a few who were Catholic. They always talked about this place called purgatory. It’s a place where nothing is good or really bad…kind of like Georgia. Now don’t get me wrong. It’s a beautiful state. But growing up, I always felt restless, as though I needed something more, and the quiet solitude of our ranch and surrounding countryside wasn’t enough. In purgatory, something has to change in order for you to move on. Here, nothing would change. From the hazy green hills in summer to the spotted colors lining the highways in the fall, it would stay the same. In my town, a small suburb of Atlanta, there would always be the main strip, where high school kids rode around, checking each other out at the Cheese ’n Freeze, and the small movie theater that had been there since the 1950s. I used to like being able to count on these things. I used to take comfort in the warm childhood memories and sameness of my surroundings. But now, as I traveled north for the holidays, I knew I had changed. Today, driving through the place of my childhood, I didn’t feel as welcome as before, not with this new knowledge of myself, not with church billboards every few miles, which seemed to shout at me, calling me a sinner.
Of course every teenager feels tortured and that her experience is singular and dramatic and worthy of a movie soundtrack. I was no different. After I crossed the state line, it was like I was in a Western; I could almost hear the music of danger, as though I was an early settler in hostile territory.
I passed church after church, with steeples rising up into a white, expressionless sky. Winter had cast a murky cloud over everything—yellow and brown grass, bare trees and icy patches left on the road from a recent storm. More billboards with Bible quotes… And a chain of “old-time” family restaurants. The photos of the family eating at the restaurant always consisted of a smiling mother and father, and two-point-five kids. Everything seemed a sharp contrast to some of the half-naked men dancing under strobe lights at the Cobra Club. Much to my great surprise, I felt more at home there.
I switched the radio from classical to a heavy metal station. I smiled inside when I heard a song I recognized: The Scorpions’ “No One Like You.” It reminded me of my first night at school. The flashes of neon lights across Adrienne’s profile as she drove…and the smell of smoke even as she held her cigarette out the window… I’d never forget those things. I had to turn the station until I found some sleigh bell-type song, one that was so familiar I didn’t have to really listen to it. After a few more miles, I turned onto the country road—winding toward our grand house. I imagined how Carol, and even Adrienne, would have snickered at such opulence. But why should I apologize for my family having money? I fought with them inside my head as I drove up. I thought about all the things Carol had said about my dad’s policies. I’d never been more confused about things I’d once taken for granted.
The surround
ing yard dusted with snow greeted me like an old friend. I pulled into the familiar gravel driveway and was suddenly grateful for the distraction of Christmas.
After a flurry of hugs from my parents, we assembled in the living room. Dad was trying to hide his interest in a news program as he dragged my suitcase across the floor. He kept glancing at the TV.
“How’s your nose, dear?” Mom asked.
“Yeah.” Dad had plunked into his velvet chair. “You’re not contagious or anything?”
“No, it’s allergies. I’m taking something.” I wouldn’t tell them that I’d been putting off allergy shots as long as possible.
Mom disappeared for a minute, followed by the furious sounds of dishes in the kitchen.
“Does she need help?” I asked, still tired from my trip. Always the dutiful daughter, I felt bad if I didn’t ask.
“Nah, she’s got it,” Dad replied. “She’ll kick you out if you touch anything, believe me.”
“Kenneth’s just pulled in,” Mom announced, eyeing the driveway while carrying a casserole dish to the dining room. I couldn’t remember too many times when I didn’t see my mom carrying a casserole of some sort. “All right, time for dinner!”
“Just a minute, Mother,” Dad complained, as he’d done for twenty years. He continued to stare with glazed eyes at the news.
“Oh, for Pete’s sake, Jimmy! Can’t you stop watching that for a minute?”
“That Reagan is the best thing that’s ever happened to this country,” he declared, clicking off the television.
“Oh, please,” I groaned.
“What?” His eyebrows raised.
“I’m not voting Republican.” I might as well have aimed a gun at everyone.
Hurricane Days Page 21
