Back Talk (20 page)

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She got dressed, having decided on her charcoal gray wool pantsuit with a black silk blouse. It was one of her favorite winter outfits. It was a typical cold rainy day, so she wouldn’t be too warmly dressed. She tried not to think about bad gag gifts and black balloons, to be followed by a lunch date with her parents.

She hoped Victoria would abstain from discussing Gerald. She didn’t want another fight like on Thanksgiving. Birthdays were serious. They were meant to be points of reference and reflection on what a person was doing with her life and where her life could go in the future. She knew this birthday was one of bifurcation, the quintessential fork in the road. This next year of her life would determine more things about her life than any others and she didn’t want edible underwear and tacky comments on aging to shroud its importance. If she was changing sides of the sexual preference fence she needed to face it with seriousness she had yet to know.

When she got to the office Ed met her at the door with a card.

“Just a little something to get you through the day,” he said. He winked at her and left her to her day. In the studio she found a dozen red roses and the place filled with helium balloons. Not one of them was black.

Hilton, Dave, Veronica—even Liz and Jessie, who had obviously taken the morning off from school—all sang “Happy Birthday.” Jessie inhaled some helium and sang the final verse in a Chipmunk-style crescendo.

Lillian walked in and looked around. “What’s this?” she asked suspiciously.

“It’s Anne’s birthday,” Hilton said.

“Earth Day, what a stupid holiday. Nothing but a bunch of kooks trying to take our money. The whole group of them are nothing but a bunch of leftover Commie bastards. I dated one once. Horrible man—didn’t bathe, didn’t shave,” Lillian muttered.

On the way to the control room she snagged a cup of sparkling cider and eyed the angel food cake that Veronica had made.

“What is she talking about?” Hilton asked Anne.

“Environmentalists. She hates them. It has something to do 147

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with the Alaskan Pipeline, mating caribou and an Eskimo,” Anne replied in Chipmunk talk. Jessie had given her a quick lesson on how to inhale just enough to get through a couple sentences. Anne wondered if she’d spend her lunch hour with the helium tank.

That would really irritate her mother.

Hilton laughed. “Happy birthday.” She gave her a hug.

“I suppose you’re the one responsible for this little soiree?”

Anne whispered in her ear.

“I had a lot of help.”

Dave did the honors. “So, we all chipped in and got you a little something.” He handed her a small box wrapped in silver paper with a red bow.

Flattered, Anne opened it. People didn’t usually do things like this for her. She was always the one who arranged parties and sent flowers. It felt kind of odd and yet special to be on the receiving end. Inside the box was an iPod. “Hey, this is neat.” She stuck an ear bud in.

“You can scroll down like this,” Hilton said, showing her how.

“Dave downloaded all your favorite bumper music, you know, the whole song.”

Jessie handed her another box. “This is from the girls at the house.”

Anne tried not blush at the pleasant surprise. She opened it to find an electronic key locator. “You didn’t.”

“I’ve never known anyone that loses their car keys so much.

Here, hand them over and we’ll see if this thing works,” Jessie said, holding out her hand.

Anne frisked her pockets. She couldn’t find them.

“Are you serious?” Hilton said. She started to laugh.

Veronica picked them up off the reception desk counter. “Here they are.”

Anne laughed. “Okay, I guess I really do need one.”

“Let’s have cake,” Jessie suggested.

“Is that all she ever thinks about?” Anne asked. She took the 148

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knife from Veronica and cut the cake. There were no candles and she thought that was tasteful.

“No, there’s one other thing,” Hilton replied.

Veronica blushed at the implication.

Anne handed Jessie the first piece. “Veronica, this looks stunning.”

“Thank you. It’s one of my specialties.”

“Wait until you taste it. She let me sample the filling. I didn’t know cherries could taste like that,” Jessie said.

“Jessie, you better watch your backside if you keep hanging out with Veronica,” Hilton said.

“Not with the gym and our extracurricular activities,” Jessie said.

“We’re taking a cycle spinning class together. You wouldn’t believe the amount of calories you can burn pedaling your brains out,” Veronica said.

“Yeah, and in our class you get to watch reruns of
the L Word.

On the big-screen television no less,” Jessie added.

Liz rolled her eyes, “As we were saying—her stomach and her nether regions.”

“Nether regions?” Jessie asked.

Liz pointed to her crotch.

“Oh, that.”

They all laughed.

Anne centered that day’s radio show around the best and worst birthdays. Why not? she reasoned. There were some poignant stories from the callers—the romantic balloon ride to getting dumped on your birthday. After the show Anne’s parents came by to take her to a late lunch. Later on she and Hilton were going to Gerald’s for dinner.

“Hilton, I want you to meet my parents,” Anne said, drawing her near.

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Hilton shook hands with both of them.

Victoria eyed her intently. “Hilton, you look familiar. What’s your last name?”

“It’s probably from the billboard all over town that advertises the cast of the radio program,” Anne said.

“No, I don’t think so,” Victoria said, her eyes narrowing.

“It’s Withers isn’t it?” her father said innocently.

Anne gave him a look that he obviously didn’t get. She wanted to keep Hilton’s identity quiet for a little while until some things had ironed themselves out.

“Hilton Withers. Aren’t you Senator Percy Withers estranged, lesbian, heiress daughter?”

“Yeah, that’d be me.”

“Funny, Gerald didn’t mention that,” Victoria said.

Anne smiled at her.
That’s because he’s too polite. I don’t introduce
you as my control-freak, psychotic, tactless mother even though that’s
what you are.
“It probably slipped his mind,” she said sweetly.

“Why doesn’t Hilton come to lunch with us?” Malcolm said.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea. I’m already taxing her for dinner tonight with the boys,” Anne said.

Hilton looked distinctly uncomfortable.

“You know, let me go to the restroom and then we’ll go,” Anne said.

Anne left and Malcolm said to Hilton, “I really like what you’ve done with the Web site. I think it definitely enhances the program.

This new trend, it’s very spot on.”

“Thank you, Mr. Counterman.”

“Call me Malcolm.” He winked at her. “I have a feeling we’ll be seeing a lot of you.”

“All right, Malcolm.”

“I think the Web cam is changing the face of radio. It’s like the new formatting style of FM; they’re using the train-wreck method of running all kinds of music together.”

“You know a lot about radio.”

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“I love it as a medium, and of course I listen because of Anne’s show. But it has to evolve in order to keep vibrant.”

“Like in the early eighties when everyone thought MTV would kill radio. Instead some songs made it big because the video was so good,” Hilton said.

“Precisely,” Malcolm said, beaming at her.

Victoria was still staring at her like she was an alien. Her cell phone rang. She pulled it off her belt. “Excuse me,” she said as she turned away.

It was Anne. “I don’t want you to think I didn’t want you to come to lunch. It’s just my mother.”

“You worry too much. Everything will be fine.”

“Okay, I’ll pick you up at six.”

“Great. You know, I’m looking forward to this.”

“Really?”

“Yes. Are you always this weird on your birthday?”

“Yes, be kind to me.”

Hilton laughed. She couldn’t wait for tonight. She had an extra-special present for Anne and she wanted to meet Gerald. She couldn’t help but wonder what kind of person Anne had loved.

Anne came by promptly at six. She had changed from her charcoal gray suit to linen pants and a yellow cashmere V-necked sweater. Hilton had decided after much contemplation on black leather pants and a white silk shirt that Liz had kindly ironed for her.

“You look nice,” Anne said.

“I wouldn’t want Gerald to think you were hanging out with a slob,” Hilton said, grabbing her coat and checking her breast pocket for Anne’s present. She picked up the two bottles of Cabernet Sauvignon that she’d chosen earlier and placed in the foyer.

“Is Shannon going to be okay with this?” Anne asked as they made their way to the car.

“Yeah, she’s hanging out with the girls. They’re going to watch 151

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this movie called
Good Boy
. It’s about a boy and a dog that’s from outer space. Jessie is into appropriate movies when she baby-sits. I think Shannon is just really interested in the huge hambone I got her.”

“Great, thanks for doing this. I’m not sure I’d go if it wasn’t for you.” Anne started the Chevy Avalanche. She was about to drive off when Hilton stopped her.

“Wait, I want to give you something.”

“Another present?” Anne said, raising her eyebrow.

“This is a me-to-you kind of present.” Hilton avoided her gaze as she handed her the box.

“What’s this?”

“Open it and see.” This time Hilton looked at her. She wanted to kiss her and whisper, “I love you—okay, I admit it, I love you,”

but she knew she’d do neither. She took a deep breath and smiled.

“I hope you like it.”

“Hilton, it’s beautiful.” Anne pulled the ladies Rolex watch out of the plush jewelry box. “And very expensive.”

“I’m an heiress, remember.” Hilton had spent a solid week searching jewelry stores for the ultimate one. She’d finally decided on a thin gold band with an oyster-shell face and a small diamond inset at twelve o’clock.

Anne slipped it on her wrist and then held it out to admire it.

“You know, sometimes I actually forget. Wow, this is awesome.”

“It looks good on you.”

“How’d you know I’ve always wanted one?”

“All lesbians have the ability to read secret desires. It comes with the territory.” She was teasing but wished it was true. She wanted to peek in Anne’s brain and search the place that held her desires, shuffle around a bit and find one with her name on it, like rummaging through the sale rack and locating the one treasure it contained.

Anne furrowed her brow. “You’re joking, right?”

“Why? Are you hiding something?”

“Other than a secret desire for a Rolex?”

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“Yes.”

“You’ll have to wait and see.”

She wrapped her arms around Hilton and held her. “Thank you.”

A hundred erotic images raced through Hilton’s brain but caution ultimately won out, screaming in panic, “Be careful, be careful, don’t mess this up.” It was like there were yellow caution signs everywhere telling her to let Anne lead the way.

When they got to Gerald and Philip’s immaculate and tasteful house, Hilton whispered, “He really is a fag.” The yellow bungalow had a large front porch complete with a swing. The yard was well cared for and terra-cotta pots lined the stairs up to the porch.

They contained topiary plants.

“I know,” Anne said. She handed Gerald her leather coat and white scarf.

Philip came to greet them. His blond hair was spiky on top and his high cheekbones and thin nose all contributed to his good looks. He was wearing a blue-and-white twill apron over khaki slacks and a dark blue dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up.

“Hilton, it’s been so long. You look great. Gerald was surprised I knew you. I told him, ‘How many dykes do you know named Hilton who makes money from pickles.’”

“Uh, yeah, that’d be me. Philip, I haven’t seen you in ages.” She hadn’t equated Anne’s description of him with the grad student she’d met during one of the Queer Nation protests. She’d liked him. He seemed sweet and intelligent.

He gave her a big hug. Anne looked quizzically at Hilton.

“No, all gay people do not all know each other,” Hilton said.

“She’s teaching me things,” Anne said.

Gerald and Philip stood holding hands and looking at the two of them with what seemed like fraternal warmth. Hilton studied their gaze. Did they look like they wanted them to be together or was she imagining it? This was like the ten other questions she 153

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asked herself every day about her relationship with Anne, starting with was this the beginning of a love affair or simply her desire to make it so?

“Hilton and I worked together, or rather volunteered, for some Queer Nation stuff,” Philip explained to Anne.

“Yeah, we got really good with a staple gun,” Hilton replied.

“Speaking of staple guns, how’s your thumb?” Gerald asked.

“It’s fine,” Anne said, sticking her hand in her pocket.

“Let’s go have a drink in the living room,” Gerald suggested.

“I’ll drop the wine off in the kitchen with Philip, who needs to check on things, I’m sure,” Hilton said. She really needed to talk to him.

“Perfect,” Gerald said. “Anne and I will pour drinks and await your arrival.”

When Hilton and Philip were safely in the kitchen, Hilton said,

“Tell me I’m not nuts.” She set the wine on the granite countertop.

The kitchen had a black-and-white checkered floor and all the appliances were stainless steel. There was a huge rack of copper pans hanging over the kitchen island.

“Clinically or metaphorically?” Philip chided. He opened the oven door and peeked in. She could see the rack of lamb. He had obviously braised it, reassembled the rack and wrapped the bottom half of it in tin foil. Her grandmother had done it much the same way. It was always delicious. Hilton hoped this was a good sign for a successful evening. She wanted Anne’s birthday to be as perfect as possible.