Fingering The Family Jewels

by Greg Lilly

  “I don’t allow smoking in this house,” she pronounced.

  “This house belongs to Grandma, not you.”

  “Nevertheless,” she leaned against the counter, thin arms folded across her bony body, “you’ll do as I ask. Please put out that cigarette and leave.”

  “Please?” I laughed. “Aren’t you polite? But I came here to see you.”

  “Why?”

  I straightened up in the chair, ready for my time in the ring with her. “I want to know why you treat me like a bastard son.”

  “What?” she huffed. “I do no such thing.”

  The Bitch had the audacity to deny it. “Cut the crap, Gladys. Ever since you found out I’m gay, you’ve hated me. You tried to ignore me, and when I wouldn’t let you, you banished me to that Lynchburg brainwashing college. You told me never to come home, but here I am. I’m grown, and I accept who I am, what I am. I know myself better than any of your country club friends will ever know themselves if they live to be a hundred.” I pushed the chair back and took a step toward her. “You see, I haven’t played the role you set up for me. I made my own decisions and paid for the wrong ones. Living on my own, in a place far from the strangling grip of the Harris family, I succeeded by my hard work and knowing my true self.”

  She pushed herself from the counter, away from me, to a neutral corner by the stove. “You think you know yourself,” she spit the words toward me. “I raised you; I’ve been on this earth longer than you will ever be. Don’t come in here, twenty-five years old, and tell me you have all the answers. That arrogance shows you don’t know anything.”

  I walked toward her again, and she glared at me. Grinning at her, I said, “I admit I don’t know all the answers. That’s why I’m here.” My cigarette smoldered in the cereal bowl. “Tell me, Mother.” I turned my back to her and took my seat again. “Why do you hate me? Is it the gay thing? That little secret is out.”

  “Published in the Observer,” she slammed her tight little fist against the marble countertop, “like some cheap trailer park trash on one of those horrible talk shows. You bringing Vernon ‘s campaign into it.”

  ” Vernon ‘s political aspirations come before your own son?” The second I said it, I knew it wasn’t worth asking.

  She stalked across the floor as she talked. “Our reputation in this city, this state, is spotless, or it was until you decided to tell the world you like boys.”

  “Correction, I like men. I like big strapping men, the kind who work in construction. Isn’t that perfect, how my family owns a construction business?” Horror contorted her face. “Gee, Mom, do you think Vernon would give me a job in personnel? I could test-drive the workers before they go on site.”

  “You vulgar, vulgar boy.” She started toward me, but I stopped her with a blast of cigarette smoke in her face.

  “What, Mother dear? Were you going to hit me?”

  Rage burned her thin translucent cheeks. Gladys the Bitch trembled with anger. “Get out!”

  I took a deep breath; better to let her lose her temper without me joining. “So, that’s it. You hate me because I’m gay. I thought you were more complex than that.”

  A measure of calm had settled over her; she seemed embarrassed by her outburst. “If you have learned anything at that job of yours, you should know sometimes the greater good of a group is worth the sacrifice of a few.”

  So, I was the sacrifice. Banished because I didn’t fit the mold. Her statement hit me harder than she knew; I wouldn’t give her the satisfaction, so I steadied my hands on the table and watched her lean over the counter and push the window up higher to either let out the cigarette smoke or to cool herself down.

  “This family is all we have.” She turned back to me.

  “We?” I asked.

  “Yes. Vernon plans for us; the Senate seat is just the beginning. His sons can go even further.”

  “What does that do for your own children? Tim? Valerie? What does Ruby get from Vernon ‘s success? Edwina and Roscoe don’t see it that way.”

  She shook her head side to side. “Edwina and Roscoe are imbeciles. They only want what benefits them; they give no thought to the rest of the family.”

  “But, isn’t that what Vernon is doing for his sons? Again, what does it do for the rest of the family?”

  Her gaze slapped me like I was missing the entire point. “Status, influence, control, standing, power. Don’t you see that as Vernon ‘s position increases, ours does too? Our family will be regarded in the ranks of the Kennedys, the Bushes; forget the Charlotte families, we’ve surpassed them, John Belk, Harvey Gantt.”

  I didn’t get it. “What more could you want? All the cousins are rich. None of them, or their children, could spend the money they have. If it’s power and influence, isn’t it dangerous to push someone like Vernon into that position?”

  ” Vernon is wiser than you think.”

  “I hope so.” I replayed the meeting I’d had with him in his campaign office. “He strikes me as a bigot, a chauvinist, and a racist. But besides Vernon taking this family to national prominence, how does all of this factor into you sending me away? That’s what I want to know. Forget fame and fortune, let’s talk about you and me.”

  Her sharp eyes focused on the chair opposite me. I motioned for her to take the seat. She settled on the cushion like a skinny hawk perching on her nest. “If you want to talk to me, please put out that vile cigarette.” Apparently, smoke riled her feathers.

  “The fact that I’m gay was published in the newspaper,” I stated. “Your biggest fear has seen the light of day-welcome to the world out of the closet.”

  She glared at me.

  I ground out my cigarette. ” Vernon did not burst into flames on his soapbox; you are still accepted at the country club; people may whisper behind your back for a few days, but before long, something more sensational will come along.” I looked her in her cold gray eyes; I wanted her to admit it, that I’d been sacrificed. “This is why you sent me away at seventeen?”

  “You can’t begin to understand. The simple fact that you are a homosexual means very little to me.”

  “What? That’s all you’ve dwelt on for the past eight years.”

  “No,” she interrupted. “That’s all you have dwelt on for the past eight years. I have moved on to other things.”

  “Other things to hate about me?”

  “Things you rebel against.” Her voice composed, she added, “Things you represent.”

  We circled back. “Not living the life you set for me?” I asked.

  “One day, you’ll see I knew what was best for you.” She actually seemed to believe what she had just said.

  My head ached as if each word she uttered tightened a vise. “You will never know what’s best for me, because you don’t have a fucking clue as to who I am.”

  “Don’t use that tone with me,” she warned. “Remember you are in my house.”

  “I’ve been in your house too damn long.” I stood. ” Vernon will not get elected. Your dreams of being Rose Kennedy will not come true. I know secrets about this family that will make a scandal over a gay son pale by comparison.”

  She flew from her perch. “Go home, Derek! You shouldn’t be here! Go back to San Francisco!”

  Chapter Twenty-one

  I STORMED INTO Ruby’s house and found her and Valerie fussing around the kitchen, putting away groceries Valerie had brought. I realized I should have gone to the grocery store during Ruby’s hospital stay, but had forgotten, “Sorry, I didn’t know we were out of so much.” I helped put the food away.

  “That’s okay,” Valerie said. “I dropped by the store on the way home.” She stopped and stared at me for a moment. “You look like you just had a run-in with a mad dog.”

  “I did.”

  “Gladys was home?” Ruby asked.

  “You went to see Mother?” Valerie sat a bag of Dixie Crystal Sugar on the counter, but didn’t move her hands from it.

  “Yeah
, I guess I should have been ready for a fight.” I sighed and leaned against the counter. “Any time I’m around her, she gets me so unnerved. I end up yelling; she ends up yelling. Do you know she thinks Vernon is going to pave the way for a big political family in Washington? She actually believes that Mark or Mike will one day follow him into national politics.”

  Valerie released the sugar and brushed her hair away from her face. “I didn’t know his boys wanted a career in public service.”

  “Public service?” I quipped. “There’s nothing service-oriented about running for office. It’s all money, power, and influence, getting your way, helping out your contributors. Policy-making is just another way to grant, or repay, favors.”

  ” Vernon won’t get elected,” Ruby pronounced. “He’s too dumb for that. People will see through him.”

  “George W. Bush got elected,” I pointed out. “All you have to do is say what the people want to hear.”

  “I don’t want to talk about Vernon.” Valerie shut the cabinet doors and scrunched up the plastic grocery bags.

  The rustling crinkle of the bags reminded me of Edwina’s wind suits. “If Vernon leaves the company to go to Washington, who takes over?”

  “The Board will decide.” Valerie stuffed the bags in the recycle box. “Why?”

  My mind tried to link the possibilities. “Mark or Mike? What about Tim?”

  “Tim? My brother?” Valerie laughed.

  Ruby didn’t smile but sternly said, “Edwina and Roscoe think Tim could do a good job. They talked to Walterene about getting him moved up once Vernon was gone. In fact, I may vote for him myself.”

  Valerie and I stared at her as if someone else possessed her body, talking of company business and strategic moves.

  “Well,” Ruby began to sound like herself again, “Tim isn’t that bad. And if Vernon leaves, it would be good to have someone to represent us.”

  “Us?” I asked.

  “Me, Walterene, Edwina, Roscoe, Sam, Odell. Vernon and Gladys have always run that Board, the other cousins need some say in what goes on.” Ruby crossed her plump arms over her ample chest.

  “Edwina been talking to you?” Valerie asked.

  “Walterene talked about it. Edwina says Tim needs to be on the Board to look out for our interests. It’s not Vernon Construction; it’s Harris Construction. We all own it.”

  “But what if Vernon doesn’t get elected? The Board continues as it does today,” I said.

  Ruby thought about it. “I suppose Vernon will get elected, even though I hate to see it. Edwina and Roscoe said he will.”

  I laughed. “Edwina and Roscoe aren’t astute political analysts.”

  “Let’s talk about something else,” Valerie pleaded. “Politics and Vernon are not my favorite subjects.” She turned to me and smiled. “So, you spent the night at Daniel’s?”

  Daniel. I had some questions for him. The thought of the folder on the family and me, plus his attitude toward Mark, propelled me to go directly to his house, but because I had spent so little time with Ruby since she left the hospital, I squelched the urge to call him. “Yes, I saw him,” I answered in a slate-cold tone.

  “Sounds like Mom wasn’t the only one you had a fight with.”

  “Just some things I need to get settled.” Now it was my turn to change the subject. “What time’s supper?”

  “Seven o’clock,” grinned Ruby. She loved having people around at mealtime. “Valerie, stay for supper.”

  “I need to get home and feed the cat,” Valerie said, “but I’ll be back.”

  “Yeah, I want to go for a run.” I kissed Ruby’s soft powdery cheek. “All this energy needs to be burned off.”

  RUNNING DOWN POINDEXTER, I took a left onto Park Road and headed north. The spring sun warmed me as I passed blooming white dogwoods and pastel tulips. Traffic and exhaust fumes were heavy as rush hour picked up and uptown Charlotte emptied. I hit a tempo in my run, exhaling on the fourth step, feeling like a chugging train. I hooked left to follow Park Road into Dilworth, or Lower Dilworth, where the houses were more mill houses than the mansions surrounding Dilworth Road and Latta Park. Lower Dilworth, where Daniel lived. Maybe I had this in mind when I decided to go running, but now, as I ran along the shaded sidewalks, the thought of talking to him seemed like fate, something I had to do. Turning the corner, I saw Daniel sweeping off his front porch; how domestic, how serene. He must have noticed me, because he leaned the broom against the railing and waved.

  “Hey, Derek,” he greeted. “I can’t believe you jogged here.”

  “It’s…” I panted, finally stopping and realizing how far I’d come, “It’s not…” I tried to catch my breath. “It’s not that far.”

  “Come on in and get some water.” Daniel led me inside, and I glanced at his desk and the folder as we walked through the den. “I’m glad you came. I’ve been thinking about you all day.”

  Sweat streamed down my face, but I felt strong and energized. He handed me a glass of ice water, and I drank it down with greed. I gave him back the empty glass to refill. “Thanks.” I pulled off my wet shirt and walked out to the back patio.

  Daniel came up behind me and trailed the cold glass of water down my back. I drew back. He kissed the back of my neck, and I flinched again. “You okay?” he asked.

  I decided to get right to the point. “I saw that folder on your desk.”

  Confusion clouded his face. “What folder? My desk?”

  “The one labeled ‘Vernon Harris.’ This morning, I started to straighten up the house after you left for work… I just saw it.” I hated to admit I snooped. “There on your desk, with Vernon ‘s name on it.” Walking a few steps away from him, I ran my hand along the rough bark of a silver maple hovering over the patio. I had thought confronting him would be so much easier; his deep brown eyes bored into me, his smile fading. “I thought you said everything between us was off the record…” My voice trailed off.

  “You went through my files?” Hurt and anger cracked his voice.

  “No, not files, just one. But it was out and had Vernon ‘s name on it,” I explained in a weak, small voice-the tone of a boy begging for forgiveness. That sound sickened me.

  Fuck ‘em blasted through my head.

  “Never mind how I saw it. I did.” I took the offensive. “Why are things I said to you in confidence written down in a file on Vernon ‘s campaign?” I took a few steps toward him, and he backed up. “I trusted you. I thought you cared for me.”

  “Hold on.” He reached out to touch my shoulder, but I dodged his grasp. “Derek, I didn’t have anything in there concerning you.”

  “No?” I asked. “Let’s just see about that.” I brushed past him and retrieved the file from his desk. Coming back to the patio, I grabbed the glass of water and gulped it down. “Here.” The folder slapped the table as I sat down and rooted through it. “This handwritten page with my name at the top. Who could that be about? You know another Derek Mason?”

  He sat down across the table and reached for the page, but I jerked it away. “Says here: ‘Derek Mason is the gay nephew. Living in San Francisco. Works at a computer software firm. Here for his mother’s cousin Walterene’s funeral. Staying with Ruby Harris on Sedgefield Road. Brother to Valerie and Tim. Estranged from Mother and Father.’”

  “But, that was stuff from the article.” Daniel interrupted.

  That statement pissed me off. How dumb did he think I was? “How do you explain the rest?” I continued reading. “‘Doesn’t understand the dynamics of the family. Visited Vernon Harris, Mark Harris, and Bill Robertson. Received harassing phone calls after article. Investigating something from the 1940s-find out what. Attacked in the morgue of the Observer, claims he heard the same voice as the phone calls. Ruby Harris hospitalized after a home invasion-could be connected to the phone calls. Research family’s history especially related to views on gays/lesbians. Likely a family dispute-research police records for past incidents. What happened between D
erek and his parents?’”

  Staring into his eyes, I said, “You are shit. You used me. I want to know why.” A sick feeling wallowed in the bottom of my stomach; maybe it was from drinking the water so fast after running, maybe it was the stress of confronting Daniel, maybe it was knowing he was ready to tell a hell of a lie.

  Strong hands ran along the edge of the table as he stared at the paper I held across from him, obviously churning up a performance so believable an Oscar would be awarded. He took a deep breath, frowned, eyes darting to the right. “I always take notes.” His eyes met mine. “Derek, believe me, I’m not using you for any political reasons, no professional reasons. What has happened to you in the past two weeks mystifies me; I just wanted to get the facts, see what I could find out to help you.”

  I sat stone-faced, allowing him to go deeper.

  “I know you haven’t told me everything that’s going on. Things don’t fit,” he said clasping his hands together on the table. “Your uncle’s campaign doesn’t warrant the things that happened to you or Ruby, there isn’t that much risk to justify the means. No opponent or activist opposed to him, and there are plenty, would go to such extremes.” He rubbed his mustached lip. “Besides, anyone wanting to defeat Vernon Harris would welcome you.”

  “Politics. That’s where you took this discussion.” I stood and grabbed my wet shirt from the back of the chair. “I should have known. Your first interest in me was because of Vernon, now I guess that was all there was.”

  “No!” He bounded from his seat and held my wrists with his hands to keep me facing him. “That’s not true. You attracted me, physically, mentally. Being Vernon Harris’ nephew had nothing to do with it-it only complicated things.”

  “Sorry.” I pulled loose from his grip and headed around the side of the house toward the street.

  “Derek!” Daniel called, but he didn’t follow.

  VALERIE, RUBY, AND I fixed an incredible supper of vegetarian lasagna, crusty-garlic rolls, and drank a couple of bottles of smooth Merlot. By the end of the meal, giggling dominated any attempted conversation. I dismissed Daniel as a wrong turn on the road of life; in fact, the mention of his name never surfaced after I returned to Ruby’s. The women probably sensed he wasn’t a subject to be discussed, like a pimple on the end of a nose. We all knew it was there, but we also knew it would be impolite to call attention to it. Daniel, a pimple, seemed appropriate to me.