The Touch of a Woman (13 page)

“We just pass the phone back and forth. I’m not even sure she remembers it the next day.”

“And she hasn’t done that?” Summer asked.

“Not since the night the police showed up,” Queenie said. “I honestly think that scared the crap out of her. She called me the next morning to ask where I’d hidden her keys. Man, she was mad as hell, but I told her to shut up, that I didn’t want to hear about it.”

Sam held up a hand as she finished a bite of her chopped steak. “But that wasn’t what finally did it.”

Queenie went on, “A couple of days after that, she came over…acting like nothing happened. That was it for me. I told her I was through with her. All calm-like, not mad at all. I just put it out there that I was done picking her ass up and trying to help her patch things up with you. I said you were doing what was best for you and she needed to respect that…get herself together and think about what she wanted to do next.”

“No kidding.” Summer was awestruck. She’d been trying for months to get Queenie and Sam on her side. Instead, they’d been running interference for Rita, conniving to get the two of them back together. Maybe they were finally coming around because Queenie had seen the ugly side up close for herself, the side Summer saw all the time. “You guys have no idea how happy I’d be if she’d just accept that. I’d like to be friends with her again someday—the old Rita—but every time I try to be nice, she takes it the wrong way. And then if I don’t respond to her, she threatens to go get drunk.”

“She’s not going to AA or anything like that,” Sam said. “But Queenie said she was thinking about seeing somebody…a therapist. We thought you’d be happy to hear that.”

“That would be so good for her.” Maybe she’d taken the advice to heart. If anyone could use a therapist, it was Rita. She had a lot more to work on than her issues with alcohol. Her anger, for instance, and how she manipulated people with emotional blackmail.

It was obvious now that Queenie and Sam had arranged this dinner to update her on Rita’s progress. Or were they running interference again? It didn’t necessarily matter, not if Rita had finally gotten the message that she wasn’t coming back.

Their waitress dropped off the check without offering to refill their drinks.

Sam nudged Queenie with her elbow. “She thinks you’ve had enough.”

Summer counted out her part of the bill before deciding to pick up the tab with her credit card. “I’ll get this. I’ve missed you guys.” Their friendship was important to her, and she looked forward to the day when they could enjoy each other without Rita’s problems sucking all the air out of the room.

“You’re coming for Sam’s world-famous lasagna on Christmas, aren’t you? She’s making enough for thirty.”

Summer chuckled. “Only twenty if one of them is you.”

That would mean seeing Rita again, but she’d be a lot easier to handle around a houseful of people—especially if she finally understood it was over.

* * *

Jeremy, fresh from his shower in jeans and a rugby shirt, dropped a kiss on Ellis’s cheek as he walked past on his way to the refrigerator for a beer. “You don’t have to do that, Mom.”

“Somebody does.” She’d gone through their closet and collected everything that needed ironing. “You could always buy permanent press, you know.”

“Too stiff. Besides, Bruno won’t even notice.”

Though she liked her son’s boyfriend, she relished the chance to have Jeremy to herself for a few hours while Bruno spent the day with his family. That was his tradeoff for getting out of Christmas Mass. The Perettis didn’t accept that their youngest son was gay, and according to Jeremy, were particularly aggrieved by his choice of partners—the son of a mass murderer.

“How’s it going with you and Bruno’s parents? Any sign of thawing?”

“Ha! No, I’m still the bad-seed pervert who’s leading their choirboy astray. Did I tell you about Gianni?” Bruno’s older brother. “They let him plead no contest. The girl was fifteen! But at least he’s on probation now and they made him register as a sex offender.”

“And he’s still their favorite son, I bet.”

“You got it.” He plopped down in an overstuffed armchair across from her and threw his bare feet over the side. “Bruno tells me all the time how lucky I am to have a family that loves me.”

“Not only that, young man. You have a family that feels
lucky
to love you.” She and Bruce had suspected from the time he was four that he might be gay, sparing everyone the drama of an emotional coming out. Still, she’d secretly mourned what she thought would be a life of hardship and danger until her motherly instinct to protect him kicked in and she became his greatest champion.

“I know I don’t tell you this enough, Mom, but I appreciate how nice you are to Bruno.” He gestured toward the ironing board and grinned. “Jeez, you’re ironing his shirts. It means a lot to him to feel like he belongs.”

“As long as he’s the man you love, I consider him family.” She’d always welcomed the special people in her children’s lives, even the boy Allison dated for a while who’d done a stint in juvenile detention. Her daughter was a born rebel, but she’d predictably broken things off when it failed to get a rise out of anyone.

Ellis wondered if her children would return the sentiment if someone special came into her own life. What would they think of her dating? It hardly seemed worth mentioning her dinner with Rex, since she didn’t plan on seeing him again. The more interesting question was how they’d feel about the time she was spending with a lesbian.

“You remember the night I moved in? The police car and the woman who walked over and apologized? She and I have actually gotten to be friends. Good friends. We work out together and she’s shown me all the cheap restaurants in the neighborhood.”

“You’re friends with a criminal?” He said it in a teasing voice.

“She wasn’t the one in trouble. In fact, she wasn’t even home when it happened. It was her ex-girlfriend. Apparently she came by the apartment after she’d been drinking and started beating on her door and yelling obscenities. It was the woman upstairs who called the police.”

“So the criminal’s a dyke.”

She was taken aback by the word. “That’s ugly.”

“Not when a gay person uses it.”

“Well,
I
don’t like it,” she shot back. “You may get to meet her soon. She said her family was traveling over the holidays, so I’m thinking of asking her to join us for Christmas dinner. Would you be all right with that? And please don’t call her a criminal—or a dyke.”

“Why wouldn’t I be? The more the merrier.”

She could honestly say she loved all three of her children equally, but she’d always felt closest to Jeremy. More than the others, he’d needed her support growing up, and it had led to long hours of talking about everything from his emotional well-being to relationships. Even sex—in particular, his potential exposure to AIDS—but in a way that kept his private life private. She liked to think her fierce advocacy of his identity as a gay man had made him the grounded, confident man he was today.

What would he say about his mother being the target of another woman’s interest? And to know she was flattered. Enough that she was considering a response.

“Her name’s Summer. Summer Winslow. She works for the state…something to do with services for the homeless.” She told him the origin of her name and added the tidbit about Woodstock. Talking about Summer gave her an odd feeling of excitement, as though it were somehow provocative.

“She sounds cool. Can’t wait to meet her.”

If Jeremy—her gay son—was troubled by the idea of her dating another woman, she needn’t wonder how Allison and Jonathan would react. Not that she was willing to give them final authority over her personal life. But it would have to be a meaningful relationship for her to go against them. They were all she had.

If anyone had told her years ago she’d seriously consider getting involved with a woman, she’d have laughed in their face. But that was before she met a woman who’d openly expressed her interest. For whatever reason, she couldn’t stop thinking about Summer’s flirtations.

She’d never been attracted this way to Roxanne, nor any of the girls from college, women she’d known very well. Many of them were quite pretty, arguably prettier than Summer. They were smart, sure of themselves. Yet none had ever sparked her interest this way.

“Jeremy…” Her mind raced ahead, and she cynically acknowledged this could turn into the weirdest conversation she’d ever had. “Were you ever attracted to a girl?”

“Whoa! Where’s this going, Mom?”

“Oh, for goodness sakes, don’t read anything into it. Just try to answer the question. Was there ever a girl you thought was different from the others? Somebody who maybe made you think, ‘Okay, if I
had
to be with a girl, this one would be okay.’”

He had a wide-eyed look of horror, as if she’d grown another head. “Never.”

There went that theory. Had he said yes, her attraction to Summer might have made sense. A perfectly normal departure from her real self that said nothing about her identity.

“Fine. You’re gay. A hundred percent.”

“Is there something wrong with that?” he asked indignantly.

“No! I just was…” She’d stupidly backed herself into a corner, leaving herself no choice but to come clean, lest he think she was having doubts about him. “I wonder about people who live their lives one way, and then all of a sudden discover something different, something they didn’t expect. What do you think causes them to change?”

“You mean people who get married and have kids, and then realize they’re gay?” He scrunched his lips as he considered the question. “I think most of them were always gay but they felt pressure to conform…or they never knew the other was even an option. I don’t think that happens as much as it used to. It’s more accepted now.”

“But what about those who didn’t feel that pressure to begin with? They just went from being straight one day to being gay the next…or the other way around. Or maybe they’re bisexual and don’t know it.”

“They probably always had that tendency but it never kicked in until a certain person came along.” He laughed softly. “But it isn’t going to kick in with me, so you might as well hang it up if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“Sweetheart…” She perched on the arm of his chair and hugged him around the shoulders. “I’m not trying to change you. You’re perfect the way you are. The person I’m wondering about…is me.”

He swung his legs around and sat up straight. “You? What are you talking about?”

“Can we keep this between us? You and me. I don’t want you to say anything to Allison or Jonathan, okay?”

“You’re freaking me out now. What’s going on?”

“It’s about Summer. She’s been flirting with me. Not in a bad way. Friendly, kind of teasing but maybe not…like if I actually responded, she’d be serious.” She kept talking, ignoring how his jaw had dropped. “You’d think that would make me uncomfortable, but you know what? It doesn’t.”

It was clear after several seconds of silence that he wasn’t going to respond unless she asked him a direct question. At least he wouldn’t respond verbally—the tips of his ears were turning red.

“Jeremy, what would you think if I dated a woman? Would you be okay with it?”

He still took his sweet time to answer, setting her on edge with doubt. “I can’t lie, Mom. It would be kind of weird. But I guess the idea of you dating anybody is weird, so I’m not sure it makes any difference who it is.”

“Fair enough.”

“That doesn’t mean you shouldn’t. It just means it’ll take some getting used to. Nobody expects you to sit at home forever like your life is over.”

She took the longneck bottle from his hand and helped herself to a slug of beer.
“Believe me, it isn’t nearly as weird for you as it is for me. I went out the other night with somebody from work. Rex Brenneman, the guy who writes all the political columns. My first date in twenty-six years, Jeremy.”

She couldn’t bring herself to tell him about the lack of physical attraction. A young man didn’t need to think about whether or not his mother was getting aroused. Besides, her lack of sexual chemistry with Rex wasn’t the main reason she’d labeled the night a bust.

“I was a nervous wreck all night. Couldn’t wait to get home. And you know what I did? I went straight over to Summer’s apartment to tell her all about it. I can talk to her about things. I have a lousy day at work…I go over there and just being with her makes everything better. Next to the three of you, she’s the person I feel most comfortable with. We even hold hands when we talk…it’s really sweet.”

He sipped his beer in silence, clearly at a loss for words.

“I told her about your dad, and you know what? She was the first person
ever
who told me she was sorry for my loss.”

Finally he answered with a grunt. “I know what you mean about that. I totally quit Twitter and Snapchat. All the people I used to keep up with from high school…probably the nicest thing any of them ever said was they knew I’d never do something like that. Bruno was the only one who really got that I was hurting because my father had died.”

Her children’s suffering broke her heart. They’d all wear the scars of Bruce’s shooting for the rest of their lives.

“Honey, that’s one of the reasons I like Bruno so much. I see how good he is to you. And it’s why Summer’s kindness means so much to me. She’s a very dear person.”

He rested his hand atop hers on his shoulder. “Are you sure she’s talking about a relationship? Most of the gays I know steer clear of straight people unless it’s just for a hookup.”

The hookup culture of gay men was something she tried hard not to think about. It hadn’t occurred to her Summer might only be interested in—

“No, honey. I’m not sure at all. But she was in a long-term relationship with that other woman, the one who came to the apartment and nearly got arrested.” And she didn’t collect notches on her bedpost, she remembered. “She hasn’t come right out and asked me anything, but she made it pretty clear she’s interested in something if I am. And ever since she said that, I can’t stop thinking about it.”

He took his beer back and guzzled the rest of it. “You want to split another one?”