Catching Genius (28 page)

“Thank God,” Alexander said by way of greeting.

“And what if it hadn't been me?” I asked.

“Who else calls me at nine on Sunday mornings? My priest gave up on me years ago. And the caller ID tipped me off. Tell me you're coming home early.”

“No, I'm afraid not. Why? Is something wrong?”

“Everything is wrong. Everything is awful. David broke his clavicle.”

I gasped. David didn't just fill in for me once in a while, he was a full-time member of the Verona Philharmonic. But while the orchestra had a sub list a mile long for violinists, our trio didn't. “How?” I cried.

“Car accident. It snapped, just like a twig, under the seat belt. Not another scratch on him, though his car's totaled.”

“Oh, Alexander, I'm so sorry. Please give him my best.”

“He'll be fine. But what about me? I can't possibly find another violinist.”

“I'm sorry, I can't come home. Especially after last night.”

“What happened?” he asked, lowering his voice conspiratorially. “Luke?”

“Gib came home and found Luke and the Starbucks girl naked in the hot tub.”

Now it was Alexander's turn to gasp. “What did he do?”

“I don't know exactly. Mother called last night. Gib spent the night with her and they're driving up right now.”

“Connie, what are you going to do?”

“I'm leaving Luke. We talked briefly last night, but she was there—”

“She was still there? Slut.”

I had to laugh. “Yeah,” I agreed. “So, we're going to talk tonight. I want to hear Gib's side of the story, but my mind's made up. I don't see how we can come back from this one.”

“Are you okay?”

“Oddly enough, I am. I've known this was coming for years. At least the waiting is over.”

Alexander sighed. “Wish I could see you,” he said. “I'd pump you full of Syrah and chocolate, and then we'd go do something really immature and vindictive.”

“Ugh,” I groaned. “Trust me, the liquor-soaked night has already been taken care of. And I have no interest in revenge. I just want to get through this, that's all.”

“And now you'll have June there to tell you how,” Alexander said with an obvious grin in his voice.

“That's right. I'll be in coral pantsuits and playing tennis at the club before you know it.” I felt a little niggle of shame at making fun of Mother. “Actually, I'm glad she's coming. She's been more help than I ever would have thought.”

“Well, at least she'll be concentrating on you instead of trying to get me to go straight.”

I laughed. “Don't get too comfortable. She'll never give up. Now what will you do about a violinist?”

“There's nothing to do. I'll have to cancel the performance,” he said, sounding panicky. “This is a disaster. It's such short notice, they'll never hire us again.”

“That's not true,” I said. “But it might not be bad for you if they didn't.”

“Don't start again,” he pleaded.

“I'm sorry, Alexander, but you belong in an orchestra, and you're going to have to get yourself back out there.”

“I have an audition,” he said quietly.

“Why didn't you tell me?” I asked.

“It just happened. I'll probably only be able to get on the sub list, but I guess it's a start. And I told the personnel manager about the library series. He said he might come to the performance, nothing official, just to check it out.”

“Oh no! Couldn't you contact the orchestra and see if there's someone else to fill in?”

“I've got the word out, but the phone's been quiet.”

“Maybe I can drive back just for the night,” I mused aloud.

“That's crazy,” he said. “And you'd be no good by the time you got here anyway. I couldn't ask it of you. Go lie on the beach and think good thoughts. I'll call in a few days to let you know what happens.”

We hung up, and I did as instructed. I spread a towel down on the beach and watched Vanessa stretch and Estella swim, and let the sun fall on me like a lover while tears I had no control over fell from the corners of my eyes and filled my ears.

 
 
Tate arrived in the early afternoon, bearing a cooler full of fresh shrimp, and we waited on the widow's walk, trying to spot Mother's red Lincoln coming across the bridge. Tate let me use his binoculars, but that flash of expensive red never crossed. Instead, my black Saab turned onto the road leading to our house, and I spotted Gib at the wheel.

“Why, that little brat, he took my car,” I said, but I couldn't work up any real irritation over it.

Tate took the binoculars and followed their progress up the road. We started waving high over our heads as the car came within sight and heard the answering horn when they spotted us. I felt a surge of excitement at seeing Gib, despite the reason for his arrival. If anything, I was relieved that it was finally out in the open.

My mind had already been made up; I just wasn't willing to admit it to myself yet. In fact, I realized that I had been shutting myself down by degrees from the moment eight years ago when Luke began cheating on me. Each year that passed, each gift I received, blocked off one more little piece. And to my shame I had applied that block unilaterally to include my sons.

Or at least the son who had looked up to Luke as the one member of the family worthy of his attention. Raw satisfaction that Luke had been exposed—in more ways than one—filled my belly before I could stop it, quickly followed by the thought, whiny and insistent, that perhaps now I would finally get some respect from Gib.

Gib pulled in beside Tate's pickup truck, and I heard Tate draw his breath in sharply at how close Gib came to swiping the side-view mirror off the Saab. Mother eased her door open and waved up at us with a brilliant smile.

“How'd y'all get up there?” she yelled up at us, shielding her eyes from the sun. “Your daddy would have a fit.”

“I warned 'em,” Tate called down.

“He's a liar, Mother,” Estella said. “He did it himself.”

“No, I didn't,” he argued back.

“Well, get on down here and help us,” Mother said, and we clambered into the door and down the stairs. Gib still hadn't made an appearance, and by the time we reached the car, he was hidden by the raised trunk lid.

Mother greeted Tate first, protesting when he lifted her off her feet and jiggled her up and down a few times.

“Let me down, you fool,” she cried, slapping him on the shoulders. “Make yourself useful.”

“Yes, ma'am,” he said, setting her gently on the driveway.

“My girls,” she said, opening her arms, and we dutifully entered them, enduring a three-way hug that allowed neither of us to really get close to her.

She released her grip and inspected us as I strained to get a glimpse of Gib. Tate moved around the back of the car, and I quickly followed. Tate was holding his hand out to shake Gib's, but Gib was merely looking at it distrustfully. Anger bloomed in my chest.

“You remember Tate, Gib,” I said, narrowing my eyes at him. He reluctantly took Tate's hand and mumbled a greeting. Tate grabbed a couple of bags and winked at me, leaving us alone behind the car. My anger melted in expectation of a warm hug, perhaps even a new current of understanding from Gib. I was sorely mistaken.

“Here,” he said, thrusting one of my mother's garment bags into my arms, effectively placing a physical barrier between us, before turning back to the open trunk.

“How was the drive, Gib?” I asked lightly, trying not to let him see how much it hurt.

It was an adult question, and he paused, gauging my intent. “It was okay,” he said, guarded. “Gramma talked the entire way.”

“Yeah, she'll do that. Come on, I want you to see Estella.”

He hefted his shoulders, settling the bags more firmly, and followed me. Tate and Mother had already entered the house, but Estella was waiting at the bottom of the stairs, and she stepped forward and startled him with a kiss on his cheek before he could step out of range.

“Good Lord, you're huge,” she said, and I almost laughed. Estella had worked hard to rid herself of her Southern accent, but within moments of Mother being around it came back strong as ever.

“Oh, hey,” Gib said. “You cut your hair.”

Estella laughed. “Since you last saw me ten years ago? Yes, I have. Looks like you did too.”

Gib wasn't sure what to make of the teasing and stood awkwardly, hunching his shoulders to relieve the strain of the luggage. Estella reached out to take a bag, but Gib shied away as if afraid she might try to kiss him again.

“No, I got it,” he said, edging past her and taking the stairs two at a time. We watched him disappear into the house and then looked at each other and grinned.

“Awkward age,” I explained. “You know, from birth to twenty.”

“Boy,” she said, “this is going to be interesting.”

“I guess it is,” I agreed, and followed her up the stairs, my equilibrium somehow restored.

Upon reaching the foyer, we ran into Gib, minus the bags. “Hey, there's stuff in my room,” he said.

“You'll be in my old room,” I said. “That's Estella's room.”

Gib looked from me to Estella and back again in disbelief and then turned abruptly and stomped back down the hall to retrieve his bags.

“Sorry,” I said, embarrassed. “Please don't feel as if you should move.”

Estella smiled at me. “Don't worry,” she said. “I'm used to this age. I sort of get a kick out of it. So much drama, just like his mama.”

I shot her a warning glance and she laughed softly. We could hear Mother in the master bedroom, opening closets, and found her with enough clothes for a month.

“Hand me those hangers,” she said as we crowded into the closet. I held them out and as she took them, she gave us both a critical eye. “Have you girls been wearing sunscreen?”

“Yes, Mother,” we said simultaneously.

“Because the sun will wrinkle you quicker than it turns a grape to a prune,” she warned. “Now look at me. I always wore a hat, even when—”

“Prunes are from plums,” Estella interrupted.

“Don't correct your mother,” Mother said sharply, and Estella and I grinned at each other. “Look at me, come on, look close.” She turned her face up into the light, arching her neck and widening her eyes, holding her mouth carefully to ensure no stray wrinkles got away from her and ruined the effect.

“You're gorgeous, Mother,” I said.

“Like a twenty-year-old,” Estella confirmed.

“Don't make fun,” Mother said. “I know I look good, and never spent a moment under the knife.”

I snorted.

“That's an ugly sound, Constance. And peels don't count,” she said.

“Mother, you look wonderful,” I said. “Where did Tate go?”

“He said something about shrimp,” she said, turning away from us to resume hanging her clothes.

“We should probably give him a hand,” Estella said. “Take your time and freshen up, Mother, we'll see you upstairs.”

“I'd like to talk to your sister a minute,” she said, and Estella left with a sympathetic smile at me. I sat on the edge of the bed and watched Mother work, placing her things just exactly so, color coordinated, long-sleeved to short, slacks to shorts. “Gib's been looking forward to seeing you,” she said.

“It doesn't look that way,” I said.

She finished and took a step back to make sure everything was hung to her specifications. She switched a blue shell for a green one, and then nodded in satisfaction before coming to sit beside me on the bed. She patted my knee, leaving her hand there, her rings sparkling in the sun coming from the sliders.

“Try to understand, Connie,” she said. “His pride's hurt.”

“
His
pride? Luke didn't cheat on him. How do you think I feel?”

“Like a mature woman who had some warning. And of course Luke cheated on him. He cheated on your whole family. Gib is the one who saw it up close and personal—naked.”

I sighed. “He doesn't seem like he wants to talk to me,” I said.

Mother looked at her watch. “I'm going to take Estella and Tate down to the beach. We'll walk, we'll catch up. We'll be down there for an hour. Give it another try.”

“Fine,” I said, feeling like a recalcitrant teenager myself.

“Bob said he would call tomorrow to get the story.”

“Fine,” I repeated. When I reached the doorway, my mother called to me.

“Yes?” I said, turning, one hand high on the frame.

She looked around the room, out the sliders, and then finally back at me. “I'm glad we came.”

I smiled, but it felt as tired as I did. “Me too, Mom.” I trudged upstairs to help clean shrimp before I was left alone with my angry son.

 
 
I downed a glass of wine after Tate, Estella, and Mother left, and then went downstairs and knocked on my old bedroom door. There was no answer, but I could hear the bass from the little stereo, and I knocked louder. The bass cut off.

“What?” Gib called.

“May I come in?” I asked, very nearly gritting my teeth.

There was no answer, but in a moment the door opened a crack and Gib looked out the slim opening at me. “What?” he repeated.

I pushed on the door, and he initially resisted but finally let me push it open. He turned away and sat down on his bed, turning the music up again, just a hair lower than it had been.