Personal note: as some of you may be aware, I've been writing this story for quite some time now. I haven't submitted a chapter in a while, which doesn't mean I haven't been writing. Personal circumstances have made for a topsy five years. I feel it's time to post another bit of the story. Although I was tempted to toy and fiddle with the present chapter -which was written a few years ago- I finally decided to submit it "as is", almost unadulterated and in it's original form. I'm no longer a teenager, in fact I'll be past the mid-twenties mark in a few weeks; maybe as a consequence (or maybe not) what I've written seems childish at times, if not naive. But I've finally decided to stay true to my past self, because I feel it's okay to observe the way we each view life at any given moment - even in writing. And I've also discovered that, even when everything changes, the core/pit/essence stays the same.
(Nov 2000 - 2005)
To Tommy: I'll find laughter in your hidden forest. To A.: Will always remember you. And to Silvia: You were right. It's wonderful to ask for so little, yet to have so many reasons to be thankful.
"To live in hearts we leave behind is not to die" - Thomas Campbell (1777-1844), Hallowed Ground.
Feelings IX
IX. Gracie Mayfair.
Dreamingofwords. He came along only once in my lifetime, but I still managed to lose him three times, in one way or another. He simply left the first time, and I didn't even notice his absence. The second time he left, I screamed. The last time was easier: he simply faded away, unnoticed and never to be seen again. And you can't hurt if you don't remember, right?
Wrong. Unless number four rolls along, and then maybe you'll survive in his name.
Dad?
I awoke suddenly, my heart matching the pounding clatter of the rain against the windows. I forced my shallow breaths into depth, hoping the dream would step back for a moment, instead of dissolving. Sleep was an invitation to get away; I wished to slip back into my dream and into another, until I no longer knew what it was like to be awake.
Calm eventually came upon me, and I closed my eyes, sleeping back into my dead dad dream. A big part of me finally slid into restless slumber. The other part spent most of the night staring back at me in the darkness.
My grandmother was an unwelcome surprise the next morning, accessorized with a dozen suitcases and an attitude. The insistent buzz of the doorbell heralded her arrival.
"Grandma Mayfair?" I asked in bewildered disbelief. I didn't appreciate people ringing my doorbell at 6 am, and annoyance quickly turned into sour resentment. A cabbie nervously dumped her suitcases on the porch and fled to the safety of his car, apparently not expecting a tip.
"Rise and shine, young man," she said as she strode right past me, leaving the collection of suitcases on the porch and expecting me to carry them; her thick British accent hung in the air. "And put some clothes on, I don't need to see you navel."
"What... what are you doing here?" I demanded as I scurried after her. She was surprisingly brisk for a person her age. We had never gotten along: she wasn't the gentle cookie-baking grandmother type, and I certainly wasn't a cuddly grandson.
"I have come to visit," she stated the obvious. "Can't a grandmother check on her grandson?" she added in a voice that defied answers.
"Yes, but... I wasn't expecting you," I said.
"Do I need your permission to visit?" she asked, peering at me through thick eyeglasses.
"No, I guess not," I mumbled. "You own this house after all," I added.
"Nonsense," she said. "Your father owned this house for over two decades, and you have now inherited it."
Traces of my recent dream tugged at me but, once again, the recollection faded before I could zero on its meaning. I felt drained.
"Still, I decided to check up on you a week ago. I did try to reach you on the phone several times, but no one answered. Honestly, you should get one of those cunning little gadgets. Answering machines, I believe."
My face probably darkened. I entertained the idea of sticking a stamp on her butt and shipping her right back to Illinois where she belonged. This British immigrant inhabited an estate on the shores of lake Michigan, of all places. Of course, even after fifty years of American citizenship, she didn't consider herself a Chicagoan because Sears Tower is not Nelson's Column and Heathrow is busier than O'Hare. And there is not enough green in America -at least not in Chicagoland - and don't get her started on the art of infusing proper tea. She had aged noticeably since I had last seen her; shudders were unavoidable when I pictured her at the funeral, a black crow carefully hovering over her son's casket.
She inspected the living room.
"Dear me, this place is a pigsty," she exclaimed, horrified.
"I do my best, Grandma" I said.
"Your best?" she repeated. She kneeled down and picked up a sock. "Your best?" she said again, waving the dirty sock at my face.
"I've been busy," I said, reaching for my cigarettes and lighting up.
"I bet you have, Master Nevers," she said, ignoring the cigarette - she probably craved one, but had given up smoking years ago. "Even that irresponsible sister of yours would have fared better in my book."
My patience snapped.
"Well, I'm not exactly into housework," I retorted, snatching the sock from her hand. "And it's not like my parents are around to do it." Actually, my housecleaning wasn't too bad. I straightened out the rooms whenever I had the chance, and Kimmy dropped by once in a while to help me with other stuff. The local Laundromat effectively cleaned my dirty underwear. And that was about it.
She wasn't fazed by my reply.
"You're old enough to take care of your home," she said. "And don't be cheeky." I rolled my eyes.
"I'm fatigued, the flight was very long and uncomfortable," she continued. "I think I'll retire for a while. Bring some tea to the guestroom after you've carried my bags upstairs." I watched as she climbed the stairs with firm, dignified steps.
I narrowed my eyes.
"Af coarse Mah-dem," I mocked her stuffy British accent. "Should I appoint your infusion with biscuits?" She whirled around and looked at me with sharp eyes, and I glared right back at her.
"Don't be disrespectful," she said.
"God save the Queen," I blurted stupidly. She shook her head and stomped up the stairs.
"Great, fucking great," I muttered as she reached the last step and wobbled out of sight.
"You shall not use such language as long as we're sharing a roof," she called. Her uncanny hearing ability surprised me. I groaned again and considered moving out.
"So how long is she staying?" Jason asked as I slammed my locker shut. Then I realized that I'd taken the wrong notebook so I opened my locker again with a sigh.
"A whole week, probably longer," I whined as I flipped an obnoxious strand of hair off my forehead. I briefly considered getting a crew-cut, or maybe even going for a spiky look.
"By the way, you look good today," Jason whispered. I rolled my eyes, but secretly scrapped the funky haircut.
Jason laughed. He was extremely adept at being perky and finding bright sides in all situations. I both envied and pitied him because that was something I just couldn't do. Funny how sometimes opposites do attract. The one thing we had in common was the fact that we both hid our true natures: underneath hunky layers of muscle, Jason was a vulnerable sweetie. Me? I was complicated, thornier than him for sure. I'm no sweetie, though. Cherry wine can be sweet, but after a while it simply turns sour.
"She can't be that bad," he continued; he'd met my Grandmother on several occasions and he knew all about her difficult ways. I stared at him. I found deep green gardens in his eyes.
"Shut up," I said, annoyed. I found the right notebook and snatched it.
"You'll live," he said with a smile. "By the way, I spent the night at Karen's place," he added.
I paused, then quacked in a mocking tone:
"You'll live."
"I slept on the couch," he said.
I rolled my eyes again. I needed to snap at someone, and Jason knew how to press the right buttons, but for some reason he never went far enough. Years of friendship I guessed. Frustrated and itching for a fight, I decided to ignore him and stuck my head into the locker, randomly fumbling through textbooks, as if suddenly becoming an ostrich would make me feel better.
"I'll wind up killing her before the week is out," I muttered, referring to my grandmother. Or Karen. Or both. Jason laughed again, and I coughed.
"Hello boys," a female voice purred. I peeked out of my locker to find Kimmy standing next to me. I barely recognized her. The familiar tomboyish clothes had vanished, and she wore a downright seductive outfit instead. Her generous chest was prominently displayed in a sprout of red cotton, while a short blue skirt revealed shapely legs. A dramatic white scarf swept her hair off her shoulders, and she'd used makeup. A green heart-shaped charm on her necklace emphasized the forest eyes she shared with Jason. She looked untouchable and wonderful.
"Kim?" I asked uncertainly. Jason whistled wolfishly.
"Way to go sis," he exclaimed. Kimmy beamed.
"I assume you guys like my new look?" she asked. I nodded, uncertain because I hated change.
"I'm looking for takers," she explained as she glanced at me. Getting over me obviously implied finding a straight boyfriend.
"Well, Jeremy here is available," Jason offered.
"Jeremy is gay," Kimmy told him. Jason arched his eyebrows and glanced at me; I gathered that his sister hadn't let him know about my confession.
I glared at both of them.
"Go ahead and publish it," I snapped. My two friends laughed at my paranoia.
"Oh, Jeremy, we both love you, " Kimmy teased. She hugged me.
"She's right, we do love you," Jason smirked. After a second, though, he joined the hug. I pushed them both away quickly, unwilling to indulge in Kodak moments at 8 a.m.
"My brother loves you more though," Kimmy said.
"Nah, he has the hots for Karen" I answered.
"I did notice a certain someone wasn't around this morning." Kim glanced at Jason. "I told the folks you'd left early for practice. "
"Thanks sis," Jason said.
Kimmy left, announcing it was time to touch up her makeup again. I wasn't used to her being so female. Until that morning, Kim had only been a woman because she had a surplus of holes.
Jason started to say something, but I interrupted him.
"She doesn't know you've sucked me off," I impatiently informed him, in a tone of voice I use when I'm pissed off. He looked relieved but,
"Maybe she does," he answered quietly. "And, anyway, you could be sweet about it," he continued. " "Sucking you", as you put it, happens to mean a lot to me, you know."
I softened, noticing his hurt. Jason could surprise me.
"I know Jase," I said. "I'm sorry."
His face hardened suddenly.
"You'd better turn on the charm cos your boyfriend is here," he muttered. Tommy was ambling towards us, walking on sunshine as usual.
"Be nice to him," I warned Jason . "And he's not my boyfriend." Jason rolled his eyes as Tommy neared us.
"Hi Jeremy," Tommy said with a warm smile. "Hey Jason," he added. Jason completely ignored him and stifled a distasteful yawn.
"Hey Tomboy," I said. Jason snickered and I gave him a withering look.
"What's up?" Tommy asked.
Jason looked at me mischievously. I glared at him and faced Tommy. For the first time, I noticed the fine, tired lines on the skin beneath his eyes.
"My grandmother arrived today," I said absently, examining my discovery. Not creases, not folds, just simple lines. Lines on his body map. Where's the X?
"What about her?" Tommy asked. I shook my head into focus.
"She's a pain in the ass," I said bluntly. "The bad kind." Tommy raised his eyebrows.
"That bad huh," he said. He didn't look sympathetic, and I was annoyed. For some reason I needed the world to be on my side, especially Tommy, but my two friends weren't helping.
"Yeah," I sighed. No one said anything for a few moments, and Jason wouldn't look at me.
"It's early, do you guys wanna get some coffee before class?" Tommy asked.
"I couldn't. I feel like puking this morning," Jason said. He belched to prove his point, and turned to his locker. He wasn't being subtle, that's for sure.
"I'll join you in a second," I shooed Tommy away because I wanted to grill Jason. "Black, one sugar." Tommy nodded and walked off.
"You asshole!" I barked as soon as Tommy was out of earshot. "What's up your ass!"
"I know what's not up my ass," Jason said pointedly and I found myself blushing. He seemed slightly amused because I rarely allowed anger to take control of me, and especially not in public.
"You're right, you didn't," I snapped. "You only just treated him like shit
"I treated him like you treat Karen," Jason said, closing his locker.
"Where's that coming from!?" I demanded. "You know I like Karen."
"Yeah, well, maybe you should fuck her too," Jason growled and stalked off.
Tommy was waiting in the cafeteria, looking meek. A bunch of girls sat at a nearby table, whispering and giggling.
"What was that all about?" he asked as he handed me the Styrofoam cup. The coffee was a steamy dark cloud. I used a small spoon to stir it, dissolving stubborn sugar.
"Jason isn't feeling well," I said as I offered him a few coins to cover the coffee; he waved them away.
"My treat," he said. "Wanna go outside?"
"Sure," I replied and thanked him for the coffee. On the way out, I noticed a bright orange poster. A beach party. Hmm.
We reached our usual spot at the back parking lot and sat down, resting our backs on a tree. I could smell his trademark woody cologne, and I made it mine.
"He doesn't like me," Tommy said after a while. He was using a twig to doodle on the soil.
"You mean Jason?" I asked. I hated discussing Jason because I was pretty sure that the dislike was mutual, yet I knew Tommy would never admit it, because he was careful and considerate.
"Yeah," he said; he dropped the twig and fixed his eyes on mine. Apparently some early-morning dew had settled on his irises, so they were the color of hidden, shady lakes. I literally forced myself to breath as I stared back. I wondered if he cried sometimes.
"He doesn't know you," I said. And neither do I, I realized. "Jason can be pretty reserved sometimes. He just doesn't open up to people easily."
"Well, neither do I," Tommy answered; he broke eye contact. "And neither do you, I think."
"Give him time, he's a nice guy," I said feebly, wondering why I was defending Jason in the first place. "He's very territorial," I added.
"It's not like I'm going to kidnap you," Tommy said, frowning. I had to smile, wondering if he was the least bit aware of the power he held over me. Maybe love meant giving in to someone other than yourself, and losing your being in the process. At the same time, though, I'd never felt so deeply in touch with myself before.
"But if that's true, where does the other person stand?" I wondered. Love was supposed to be unselfish. I shook my head.
The sweet scent of smoke. My quick glance found him lighting a cigarette. Again, we shared in silence.
"There's a beach party tomorrow," I said and waited for an answer, taking the cigarette from his hand.
"Oh?" he didn't sound interested; Karen had mentioned that her cousin disliked parties.
"Are you going?" I asked, sipping my coffee.
"Maybe..." he said reluctantly as he returned to his doodles.
"C'mon, it'll be fun," I pushed. "Maybe you'll even get lucky, find yourself a girl or two..."
"Yeah, right," he snorted. He reached for the cigarette and sucked it.
"I'm serious," I said, testing the waters, studying his reactions. "Maybe you could make a few new friends."
"Yeah, well..." he trailed off as he stared at his cup. "Maybe I will go."
"Cool," I said. I wondered if I had just shot myself in the foot. I could just picture him making out with a beach bunny, and I cringed.
"I'm not really into parties," he said quietly.
"How come?" I asked him. He hesitated.
"I'm just no good when it comes to people, flirting, and crap. I'm shy," he said. "And I feel intimidated."
"But you're open around me," I pointed out. A bit open, anyway.
"Yeah, but you and I click," he said. "It's like.... I dunno." He wouldn't meet my eyes; the ground was very seductive that day because he spent half the time staring at it. He flicked the dead ash away, and it landed on the center of his doodle. That dream from the previous night briefly came upon me again, but it slipped away before I could grasp it. I shook my head, feeling unnerved.
"Okay, I'll go to the party," he finally said.
"Nah, that's okay," I replied too quickly. "Don't go if you don't want to."
"I do want to keep you company. You'll be there, and I'm comfortable around you," he said. "We can hang out together." The bell rang faintly so I didn't reply. I thought of something.
"I can't figure out your dedication on the painting," I admitted.
"You can't?" he sounded surprised.
"Nope, I don't have a clue..." I said. "Tell me about it?"
"No, I'm sure you'll figure it out for yourself," he said, getting up. "Birds, you know. You're smart enough."
"Is this a dare?" I asked. He laughed and stretched his arms out. "What if I don't get it?"
"Then I'll explain it to you. Maybe." He looked so tall, towering above me. I took his hands as he pulled me to back to my feet.
Tommy's face had become serious.
"Want to come over for dinner tonight?" I asked we walked towards the back entrance. "I promise you won't have to cook this time."
"Yeah, sure" he said as he dumped our cups in a trashcan.
I didn't hide my happiness.
"Great. But I should warn you, Granny dearest will be around," I said.
"Oh I think I'll be able to handle her," he answered. I nodded doubtfully.
I thought about my parents as I drove home. They'd been gone for less than three months but it seemed like centuries. Once more, I regretted each and every time I'd hurt them - had I known what fate had in store, I would have been much kinder to them. Life can be so heartless sometimes, and it's difficult -but not impossible- to find a heartbeat in death, within family.
My grandmother was different. She was British and her strict European upbringing showed in her manners. She was dignified, prim and proper, and quite hard to please. I knew she'd loved her only son dearly, but she had not cried when he died - at least not in front of me. Her upper lip was stark steel. I supposed she loved me in her own way, but it was often difficult to tell. I was as almost hardheaded as she was, and sparks flew whenever we were together.
I nearly drove off the road when my house came into view.
"Jesus," I muttered as I turned into the driveway. Several vans were parked right on the lawn, and a whole brigade of people swarmed in and out of my front door. Pro Housecleaners, Jessie's Gourmet Catering Service, Leefy Landscapers, Spotless Windows and Dial-a-Mart.
"You're late young man," my grandmother said as I barged into the kitchen.
"What the hell is going on?" I demanded as a woman poured a foul-smelling liquid on the floor; she stared at me blankly for a second before punishing floor tiles with heavy wire scrubs.
"Do not use that tone of voice," she chided. "I hired help to clean up the house and to stock up on some essentials. I refuse to believe that you lived in this swamp for three months."
"What?" I cried. Two guys pushed past me, carrying a huge carpet cleaner; I noticed countless Saran-wrapped plates of food on the counters and a bunch of girls were silently placing each dish inside a brand new industrial-sized freezer.
"Honestly, the garden was two steps away from becoming a jungle. And the house... Dust in every room" she shuddered. "And don't you ever wash your clothes?" I seethed in silence, resenting her intrusion as she railed on. She said she'd mail ordered an answering machine, and I groaned inwardly.
"I want you to meet someone," she continued. She produced a tiny silver bell and rang it twice. A petite foreign-looking lady was instantly by her side.
"Jeremy, this is Maria," Grandma said. "From now on, she'll be coming in three times a week to tidy up a bit."
"A maid?!!" I yelled. "Are you out of your mind?" Grandma ignored me and announced:
"Maria, I'll have some tea now." Maria nodded and scampered off to prepare tea for Her Royal Highness. I stared at my Grandmother in disbelief.
"I really wish you'd at least pretend to be grateful; the extra help will benefit you, and I'll be paying for her service," she said. "Now make yourself useful. Why don't you polish some silverware?"
"I can't, I'm going out," I told her, turning to leave.
"Again? But you just came in. Goodness. Are you pursuing a ladyfriend?" she asked, following me.
"I am not," I answered.
"I got married at your age," Grandma said, and it almost sounded like a threat. My eyebrows whipped together.
"Good for you," I said. "I'm not planning on getting married."
Her face registered confusion:
"What?" she asked.
"I happen to be gay," I snapped before I could stop myself.
"What? You're happy you mean?" she asked.
Honestly, my confession just sprang out and, for a split second, I was horrified.
"Gay in the American sense. That means I fall in love and have sex with men," I enlightened her, unsuccessfully trying to simplify my feelings In fact, I'd barely scraped homosexuality's skin.
She didn't even blink.
"How very interesting," she said. "My, my, youth these days..." She slipped her eyeglasses off and polished the lenses. After a few moments she asked:
"So you're courting a boy?"
I didn't say a word, but my troubled feelings must have been obvious because:
"I'd be delighted to meet him," Grandma said, and I couldn't tell whether she was just being tightly polite or whether she really meant it.
"Please invite him for dinner," she added.
"As a matter of fact, I already have advised him. His name is Thomas Nevers," I said, trying to match her fancy vocabulary. "He'll be joining us for dinner."
Grandma stared at me with strange smile.
"I'll be delighted to meet him," she said again.
She was still ordering people around as I stormed out of the house.
**
I drove idly, immersed in thought. Pine Grove neared, and I headed towards Tommy's place.
He wasn't at home. I rang the doorbell insistently, but no one answered. I anxiously discovered that I needed his warm presence and silent pauses, even those unnerving moments when he simply peered at me to find what he needed to find - unasked, but not uninvited.
I rang the doorbell for the last time, and sighed.
"Maybe he'll find me instead," I thought.
But it was Jupiter who found me.
"Hi there," I said, rubbing his smooth fur.
I followed him as he impatiently scampered towards the back of the house, only to find a very sweaty Kevin kneeling in the orchard.
"Jeremy, hi," he said, smiling broadly. He stood up.
"Uhm hello," I answered, practically choking on my tongue because Kevin's charcoal colored tee-shirt was clinging too tightly to his body for his own good.
"Thomas isn't in right now," he said, wiping sweat off his forehead. "If that's whom you're after."
"Oh uhm," my tongue had now officially slid down my throat.
Kevin laughed and extended his hand. I shook it meekly, completely off balance and in awe of the sexy creature in the orchard.
I watched as Kevin kneeled down again, his black short shorts snugly making themselves at home around his butt. His legs were athletic, lightly covered with golden brown hair.
"Wanna give me a hand?" he asked, looking at up at me.
Would I?
"Sure," I said, "But I should warn you I can't tell grass from a tree."
Kevin looked up at me and winked.
"Gardening is not that hard," he laughed.
"If you say so," I smiled.
We worked for a couple of hours, planting, picking and watering. Kevin was blatantly proud of his orchard, and he let it show.
Kevin explained that his son wasn't fond of "weeds and dirt", so he was used to tending it on his own; he seemed to enjoy my presence though. I'm no good when it comes to small talk, but Kevin quickly put me at ease with his bright charisma; still, I could sense unrelenting probes in his questions, and reserve in his answers. My initial awkwardness melted in his warm, sexy, presence, and I found myself enjoying his company. Still, I couldn't help feeling dissected and vulnerable, but I didn't mind. If Tommy was a mellow angel, Kevin was heady heaven.
After a while, I found myself doing most of the talking, and he listened quietly. I told him about my grandmother's unwelcome visit, about schoolwork and my interests, but I didn't mention my parents' death - I figured there was no need to bring parents up at all, and he didn't ask.
Sunlight slowly dimmed, and the tall pines that surrounded us cast shadows that grew wider and deeper as the day faded.
"Here comes Tommy," Kevin said, wiping sweat off his forehead.
I looked up and saw Tommy approaching us. Suddenly, I was nervous.
"Hello Dad," he said. "Hi Jeremy," he added.
Kevin smiled at him. I blushed.
"Hi," I muttered.
"Where have you been?" Kevin asked. "Jeremy and I were getting a little worried about you."
"I went for a walk," Tommy said, not answering the question. He carried a knapsack, and I could just make out the tip of binoculars.
"So, Jeremy, you're into turnips now?" Tommy changed the subject.
"Not really," I answered. "I'm just helping your Dad."
"My point exactly," Tommy smirked.
"Jeremy is good at this," Kevin defended me. "And I'm not a turnip."
Tommy laughed and winked at me.
"You shouldn't put my friends to work out here in the dirt," Tommy told his father with a smile. "I think it's rude. He's covered in mud."
"Okay, okay," Kevin laughed. "I'll leave you two alone."
"Actually, I should get going," I said. "My grandmother is expecting me for a welcome-home dinner. She thinks she's welcome, anyway."
"Dinner with royalty huh," Kevin smiled. "That's bound to be thrilling."
"Yeah, as thrilling as getting a tooth pulled out with no anesthesia," I rolled my eyes. "Thankfully, Tommy's joining us, so it shouldn't be too bad."
"Jeremy, you make it sound so enticing," Tommy smiled. "I think I might not go after all."
"I wouldn't blame you," I answered. "Kevin, you're also welcome if you like." Part of the invitation came from politeness, but some of it was pure want.
Kevin's face contorted in surprise, but he recovered quickly.
"Thanks Jeremy, but I already have plans for tonight," he said.
"That's fine," I said, glancing at Tommy's neutral face.
"Hold on," Kevin said. He jumped over a hedge and knelt down.
"Are you coming home with me now?" I asked Tommy.
"No," Tommy answered. "I have to get ready. At what time should I drop by?"
"Around six I guess," I answered.
Kevin's head appeared over the hedge, and he offered me a small bunch of flowers.
"Give these to your grandmother," he said.
The flowers were strange, they were very similar to daisies except for their pale blue petals. I took them.
"They're daisies," Kevin said. "Nevers daisies."
"Blue daisies?" I asked.
"Yeah," Kevin answered. "My mother cross pollinated countless types of daisies and obtained this variety. They're unique, you can only get them from this orchard. They're beautiful, don't you think?"
"I guess," I answered, staring at the strange flowers. "Thanks for the gift."
"You're very welcome," Kevin answered. "And I hope you'll drop by often to give me a hand out here. I can certainly use the help, and I've really enjoyed your company."
I took to the road and headed home, choosing a side-road instead of the usual highway. The sea was on my right hand side, deepening forest on my left, and the daisies lay on the passenger seat, unwilted.
I had to admit that the house did look better. Everything was neat, polished and shiny. The new freezer was packed with scrumptious food.
"When is your boy-friend scheduled to arrive?" my Grandmother asked as she lay the table.
"He's not my boyfriend, we're just friends," I reminded her. "And he should be here at six o'clock."
"I hope he's punctual," Grandma said, and it sounded like a warning.
I sighed. "These are for you," I said, handing her the daisies. Her eyes widened. She probably wasn't expecting a gift from her rebellious grandson.
"These are peculiar," she said, examining the flowers. "Where did you find them?"
"A friend gave them to me."
"My, my." She set the flowers in a vase, and used the arrangement as a simple table centerpiece.
I showered quickly and chose fresh clothes. I was very worried, wondering if the whole dinner business was a good idea; after all, Grandma could be extremely nasty to people she didn't like, and I didn't need her scaring Tommy away, I could manage very well on my own.
Tommy rang the doorbell at exactly six pm and I almost fell on my ass when I opened the door. He wore fancy khaki pants, a dark red polo shirt, and he'd slicked his hair neatly. His eyes sparkled, and mine widened. His bright yellow hair contrasted with the red shirt nicely.
"Name? Social Security Number?" I asked, pretending to check a list. "I'm very sorry to inconvenience you Sir, but you don't look familiar" I teased; he blushed and I laughed. "I guess you can look okay when you try hard enough," I added.
"You look good too," Tommy said.
I shook my head and whispered "Thanks for coming."
Tommy nodded and I led him to the kitchen.
My grandmother stared at him as we walked up to her.
"Grandma, this is Thomas Nevers," I said formally. "Tommy, meet my Grandmother, Grace Mayfair." They shook hands. Her pale skin contrasted sharply against Tommy's honey colored hand.
"It's a pleasure to meet you Mrs. Mayfair," Tommy said, easy and poised.
"The pleasure is all mine," she said carefully. She reached for her eyeglasses and peered at him curiously.
"I think not," Tommy said, and smiled. I was amazed because he didn't appear to be intimidated. He added boldly:
"Jeremy resembles you. You're face is exquisite."
I stared at him openmouthed and my grandmother blushed for the first time in her life. Even if my grandmother's features had attracted their share of compliments in her time, she was not often reminded. Also, she wasn't one to chase compliments.
"Oh you cheeky devil," she giggled girlishly, hiding her face behind her hands.
"Pardon me if I'm being a nuisance" Tommy hastily excused himself.
"You are not, Mr. Nevers," she said and took his arm. Tommy beamed at her, offering his right arm and winning her over for good.
"Are you coming, Jeremy?" Tommy asked.
"Not right away, he's not. Jeremy, do bring appetizers for our guest to the drawing room," she ordered as she majestically glided towards the door, holding on to Tommy.
"To the what! You mean the den?" I scowled.
Grandma gave me a look and waltzed out of sight, clinging to Tommy every step of the way.
I slapped a small cheese and pickle sandwich together, and gathered a few other tidbits and dumped them on a plate.
"I'll take care of that Mr. Jeremy," Maria said; she pronounced my name Jey-ree-mee.
"That's okay Maria, I can handle it," I said, because I could manage to prepare Tommy's favorite snack on my own. "And drop the "Mister" crap." I winked, and she smiled at me.
I stormed into the "drawing" room, sandwich in one hand, platter on the other.
"Here's your appetizer, Sir," I growled, shoving the sandwich into Tommy's hands.
"Jeremy! Don't be rude!" my Grandmother cried. "Really and truly, you disappoint me. I'm flabbergasted."
"Oh I'm sorry, I just flunked Finishing School is all," I told her. She shook her head in disapproval, as if she actually believed this. She surveyed the platter and chose a pickled damson.
"Miss Mayfair, Jeremy isn't being rude to me," Tommy, the altar boy, explained. "We usually refer to each other this way."
"Call me Gracie please," came Grandmother's reply.
"You heard her, Cherub," I snarled. "Just yell Gracie." Tommy smiled at me, amused.
She ignored me and turned to Tommy; her eyes grimaced in distaste when they focused on the sandwich.
"Is that sandwich all right?" she asked, watching as Tommy successfully maneuvered it into his mouth. "Jeremy, why didn't you bring some country pate and brioche instead?"
"Because this is not the country and we are not in France, "I said. She humphed. I glared at her.
"The sandwich is perfect," Tommy said with a smile. "Thanks Jeremy, you shouldn't have bothered."
I glared at him too.
Dinner was a similar affair as Tommy displayed his princely manners and Grandma basked in his attention. She told charming stories about Jolly England and the good old times, and Tommy nodded and oohed and aahed at the right times. Their eye contact was both respectful and intimate as he learned about my predecessors and she regained hope in the new generations. Grandma was so taken by him that she didn't even notice my deliberate protocol infringements. Maria kept scurrying into the dining room, carrying obscene amounts of fancy food. Tommy masterfully handled fish knives and salad forks. I fumed in silence, nonexistent and jealous.
After dinner, Tommy and Grandma laughed over drinks and blinis, and I stared at them like an outsider, sipping Glenmorangie whisky. Later still, we had buttered scones and drank tea. Grandma stayed up way past her bedtime. Their conversation never ran dry, but I finally reminded the two loverbirds that it was a weeknight and that we all had to get up early the following morning.
"Thank you so much for a delightful evening, Gracie," Tommy said as the three of walked to the front door.
"Please, I should thank you for your memorable company, Tommy," Grandma cooed. "And I expect to see you very soon, please." He smiled at her.
"It shall be my pleasure," he said and shook her hand. I sighed in relief because I'd half-expected him to kiss her hand.
"I'll ride you home, Prince Tommy," I said scornfully as Grandmother stared at Tommy in fascination. "Wait outside, I've got to find the keys to the carriage." Grandma pulled me aside as soon as Tommy was out the door.
"Jeremy, I like this boy," she said. "He's sensitive and sweet and well-mannered. I think you should woo him." I laughed hysterically.
"He's not gay," I said when my laughter finally subsided. "And this is not Victorian England." Grandma ignored my outburst.
"He's an extraordinary young man," she said.
"Shall I compare thee to a summer's day..." I snickered, recalling a Shakespeare sonnet.
"Oh shut up," she snapped. "In my time, a true man fought for his love. And I expect things work in the same way in this day and age, sexual preferences aside." I did shut up. She held my gaze defiantly.
"You are so blind and stubborn sometimes. Please don't behave like a Marks, that name I married into. Take a risk and I'll be proud to be your Grandmother; bear my name for once, because we Mayfairs survive," she said.
"What do you mean?" I asked, suddenly feeling dizzy.
"You need a fourth one to stop the dread and the pain," she answered. "Take my name."
"What?" I mumbled. My temples thudded.
My grandmother sighed impatiently.
"Never mind, just take the poor lad home, he must be very tired, God bless him. But don't be foolish, trust yourself and be true to your feelings."
I left then, hating her because we were the same.
"You shouldn't treat the old bird so harshly," Tommy said as I drove. "She's had a hard life."
"Yeah, well, I know about that," I said, coldly.
"I didn't mean it that way," he said quietly. "She's just old and deep set in her own ways. There's nothing wrong with that. And I bet it's hard to bury your own son."
He had a point so I let him win.
"Maybe you're right." I dug inside my pockets for my Reds and lit one, then handed the pack to Tommy.
"So I'm looking forward to the beach party tomorrow..." he said.
"I'm sure it'll be a blast," I said. As long as you don't go chasing after the girls, I thought darkly as I puffed my cigarette.
"Yeah, I kinda like being around you, so it should be fun," he said. I glanced at him, but he was staring straight ahead. I felt my resentment fade.
I drove down Tommy's unlit driveway, carefully looking out for trees and potential bumper dents. The place was eerie at night.
"Good night Prince Charming," I pretended to tease him as I parked near the front door.
"See ya tomorrow," he said. He reached out and patted my hand; I turned to face him and smiled. He smiled back. The hair goo had dried up and a few strands of yellow hair fell over his forehead.
Tommy got out of the car and Jupiter -who burst out of the dark - scampered towards him wildly.
"Hi boy," Tommy laughed as the dog pawed his legs, totally messing up his tan pants with mud. Tommy didn't seem to mind.
"Hey Jupiter," I called. The dog ignored me, completely caught up on his owner. Tommy winked at me and walked to the porch. He fumbled with his keys and dropped them on the ground. He bent over to pick them up, and I forced myself to divert my eyes because I couldn't handle the sight of his butt: it was like spying on a sweet cherub who was taking a leak.
Tommy finally managed to unlock his front door, and Jupiter rushed into the house. Tommy didn't follow him. I could feel him hesitate as my heart began flapping like a thousand bluebirds. He turned around and looked at me doubtfully; I broke into a warm smile, even though my body was clammy... anxious.
Tommy retraced his steps back to my car, and I rolled down the window.
"Want a cup of coffee?" he asked. I smiled inwardly.
"No thanks," I said. Tommy's face fell.
"I could use some tea though," I quickly added. "I know you're into all things British tonight."
Tommy rolled his eyes.
Feelings X
Tbc soon
My new email address is bluedistraction@gmail.com As always, I await opinions and the like. If you feel like writing, please do. Thank you for reading.