Eye of the Storm (7 page)

I took the receiver. "Yes?"
"He drove there because he's got a terrible crush on you." she blurted. "He's always asking about you, even when you were in England. You've got to be careful about it."
"I understand," I said.
"You have to be careful with him." she continued. "Brody is a very mature young man and very charming. Don't forget who you are and who you are to him. Rain' ."
"I don't need you to remind me of that, but if you would just put it to an end already, we wouldn't have these worries. If he's so intelligent and so mature, he should be able to handle it."
"I will. Grant and I will definitely talk to him right after he comes home," she promised. I had heard that promise before and didn't have any reason to believe it would be fulfilled now.
I heard Brody return to the dining room.
"Tell her I'm behaving like a real Southern gentleman," he called.
"I'm nervous about his staying there. I'm going to call Victoria," my mother said.
"Fine with me." I said.
"I wish Grant were home," she muttered. "He'd get him to leave."
I wanted to say maybe it was time for you to take full responsibility and not put everything on your husband's shoulders, even your own past mistakes. Maybe it was time you really, tried to make us all a family. Maybe Brody's actions have made it painfully clear and you should lift your head out of the sand. Maybe tomorrow was here. Mother. That's what I wanted to say, but instead. I just said good-bye,
"Sorry about all that," Brady said as soon as I entered the dining room. He had, indeed, finished a whole six-pack and was into the second,
"She's very worried about you. Why don't you just go over to your aunt's house?"
"What is she so worried about?" He smiled. "What do they know about you that I don't know?" he asked with a lustful smile. "Are you a seductress? Will you put a spell on me?
I
might not resist," he said.
"Brody, listen..."
"I'm just kidding, just kidding. So, where were we? Oh yes, you were telling me about your love life in England. Where did you meet this guy? At school?"
"Yes," I said.
"Well, what's he like? Is he English?"
"No." I decided to use Randall. It had almost been true. "He's Canadian and he's a very talented singer."
"Oh. Well, you shouldn't get too involved with someone who wants to be in show business. Look at the lives they have to lead."
"I'm thinking of being involved in show business. too. I certainly am not interested in settling down with a husband and a troupe of children," I said.
He laughed.
"Someday, though, you will. right?"
"I don't know. Right now. I think it's better I just think about my career and not about any romance or relationship. I might not ever many. I might just marry my career," I said.
I was trying to say anything I thought might make me less attractive to him. He nodded
thoughtfully, but his eyes were beginning to look more and more glassy.
"Maybe I'll be more like Aunt Victoria," I said. He blew out his lips and laughed,
"Now I know you're just fooling with me. You're about as similar to Aunt Victoria as I am. You're actually more like my mother. You even resemble her in some ways," he said pouring beer into his glass. "I don't mean you manipulate men or anything. I mean you're just as pretty as she is, prettier even," he said.
"I'd better put the leftovers away so they don't spoil." I said and reached for a container. He seized my wrist and looked up at me.
"You are, you knlow. You're prettier."
"Brody, please," I said pulling my wrist free.
"Is it because I'm nearly two years younger than you?" he asked. "Because I'm much older than other guys my age. Really. I am."
"Is what because of that. Brody?"
"Is that why you're trying to ignore me, ignore the way I feel about you?"
I stared at him and once again. the phone rang.
"Oh no," he said. "She's calling back. Let me get it," he said shooting up from his chair. He marched back to the kitchen and nearly ripped the phone off the wall seizing the receiver.
"Yes. Mother?" he said. "Oh," he quickly followed, "Hello, Aunt Victoria. No, I thought my mother was calling back. She did?"
He covered the mouthpiece.
"My mother called her. Can you imagine?" he whispered. "No, Aunt Victoria. I've decided not to stay at all. Thanks for the invitation, however. It's very nice of you."
He winked at me.
"Yes. Next time I do this, I certainly will call you first. Absolutely. Good-bye."
He hung up and laughed. Then he looked at me so intently, I had to stop what I was doing.
"What?" I asked him.
"You must have a reputation or something for both of them to be so concerned. I'm intrigued."
"I don't have any such reputation," I fired back at him. He wobbled and shrugged.
"Okay," he said. "Let's get back to our conversation." He started for the dining room.
"I'm putting everything away," I said. "Why don't you go rest a while on the sofa in the sitting room."
"No rest for the wary." he said-- instead of the weary. "Get it?" He laughed and left the kitchen.
He's getting drunk. I thought. It's not good. Suddenly, my mother's worries had become my own.
When I returned to the dining room. I saw he had taken my advice and gone to the sitting room. He had taken his one remaining beer. I cleaned the table, put everything away and in the dishwasher and then went to look for him. He was sprawled on the sofa, shoes off, eyes closed and a soft, contented smile on his lips. For a few moments I was able to look at him without his being aware.
I remembered once trying to imagine what it was like to be a boy. I was about seven or eight at the time and I had been looking at Roy just the way
I
was now looking at Brady. Roy was asleep on the sofa in the living room. I sat across from him and watched his chest lift and fall. I saw the very slight flutter in his lower lip as he exhaled. All of his features seemed to settle into a mold formed by his facial bones.
Boys have to look harder. I thought. Their bones have to be thicker so all their features are wider. longer. That's why he looks so different from me. If I were a boy, I'd look like that. too.
It was different gazing on Brody. When I saw a resemblance to my mother. I saw a resemblance, ever so vague and slight, to myself. Of course, he had inherited many of his father's features, too, and they seemed to overpower my mother's and mine. There was no mystery as to why Brody didn't look at me and think, could she be my mother's child, too?
He stirred, the corner of his lips dipping. Then he opened his eyes and looked at me without speaking. His expression suggested he thought he was dreaming and was waiting to see if I would remain there or pop like a bubble when he blinked.
"Hi," he said.
"Hi."
"Maybe I drank too much," he confessed. "Maybe you did."
"My head started spinning so I lay down."
"I see you managed to bring your beer. however."
"If you'd had some. I wouldn't have drunk so much."
"Just like every man I know: looking for a way to pass the blame onto a woman."
He laughed.
"Are you really going to head for home?" I asked. "Or was that just something you told your aunt?"
"Just something I told," he replied.
"Well. I'm going to bed early tonight. My body aches from my ride today. You turn and twist and get bounced in ways you never imagined when you're riding a horse for the first time in a long time."
"I could rub you down." he offered. "As a football player. I know exactly what needs to be done. The trainer does me almost twice a week during the season."
"No thank you," I said.
"I'm good at it," he bragged.
"I don't doubt that. but I thinkI'll pass and just get a good night's sleep. which I suggest you do, too. I'll be up early and make you some breakfast before you go."
"Anxious to get rid of me. huh?"
"No, but I don't want you to get into more trouble with your family, and I certainly don't want any more trouble with them," I said standing.
He remained prone, his hands now behind his head as he looked up at me.
"You are one pretty woman. Rain."
"I don't feel very pretty right at the moment," I said.
"I can't imagine you ever being caught by surprise. I bet you're even more gorgeous in the morning when you first open those big beautiful eyes."
I laughed.
"Where are you learning this fancy talk. Brody Randolph?"
"My heart," he said. "It comes right from here," he added and put his right palm over his heart.
"Okay," I said. "You know where everything is you might need. Good night."
I started out of the living room.
"There's more in my heart, more than needs to be brought out," he called.
I smiled to myself. Our mother was right. He was a charmer.
I didn't risk a reply. I mounted the stairs and went up to what was now my room, almost fleeing, After I had changed into my nightgown and prepared for bed. I heard music downstairs. He made it louder and louder and then he lowered it: eventually, he turned it off. I lay in the darkness listening. My heart began to pound when I heard his footsteps on the stairway.
"Sleep tight." he cried passing my closed door. Of course. I didn't respond. He went to the guest room he always used. I heard him knocking about, the water running, and then the house grew as silent as it ever did.
He'll sleep it off. I thought. After breakfast, he'll go home and finally, finally my mother will reveal our deepest secret.
I thought about that scene for a while and it made me feel sad far him. It wasn't just the
disappointment about me either. I think for a son it must be deeply tragic to learn such scandalous things about your own mother.
I
recalled how high in his thinking Roy had held Mama Arnold. For a son, no woman could be as perfect as his mother. Brody was the type who would resent not having been told all these years, especially this last year.
Alison would be more embarrassed and angry, but she would direct it straight at me: I was confident of that. Now that I considered all the turmoil and tension that was about to explode in that otherwise perfect home.. I could almost sympathize with my mother for trying to keep it a secret as long as possible. Wouldn't it really be so much easier for them all if I just disappeared?
I returned to that argument, considering my discussion with Victoria. She was right, I decided. In the days to come. I would cooperate and make my return to England easier for myself and for everyone else.
All this worry and thought had exhausted me. The moment I decided to close my eyes and go to sleep, I did. I was in such a deep sleep, too, so deep that I didn't realize Brody was in my room and beside my bed for quite a while. He must have kissed me once on the cheek before my eyes opened with the next kiss. At first. I was confused. I had forgotten for the moment that he was even in the house.
I felt his breath close to my ear and I spun around, barely smothering a scream. With the moonlight now coming through the window, his body gleamed and I quickly realized he was standing there completely naked.
"Don't be afraid," he said. "What are you doing here?"
"I couldn't sleep. All I could do was lie there and think about you. Don't go back to England. I don't care what that guy promised you. He won't be as good to you as I will. I'll treat you even better than my father treats my mother."
"What are you talking about. Brody? You're not making any sense. Go back to bed."
"I'm talking about us. Rain. All this year you were right here." he said putting his hand over his forehead. "Many times I would stop listening in class or even to people talking to me. and
I
would picture you, hear you, even smell your hair and it filled me with such a longing. I was in pain. That's love, right? It can't be anything else."
"Brody, no..."
"You like me. You'll even fall in love with me if you're not already. I just know it will happen. I have enough love in my heart for both of us anyway," he declared.
He sat on the bed.
"You've just got to give us a chance," he pleaded. "Please."
He reached out to touch my face and I pulled myself back and sat up in the bed, holding the blanket against my body.
"You're still drunk," I said. "Otherwise, you wouldn't be in here saving these things. Brody. Go sleep it off."
"No. I'm as sober as I'll ever be."
He leaned toward me to kiss me and I put my hand against his cheek and pushed him away. He resisted, pushing himself forward until he forced my hand away and brought his lips to mine. I screamed and, using both my hands on his shoulders, shoved him away.
"What, do I have bad breath or something?" he asked. "Take it easy."
"We can't do this. You've got to get out of this room," I said.
"Why?"
"We'll never be lovers. Brody. Forget the whole idea," I said as firmly as I could.
"Why don't you like me? Do you think I'm some sort of spoiled brat like my sister? I work hard. I don't take anything for granted and I'll never take you for granted. Rain."
"That's not it. Brody. I like you."
"You think my family will be opposed? You think because they're from white Southern families, they'll object to you because you're AfricanAmerican? If they did that. I wouldn't care. They'd lose me." he promised.
I shook my head.
"Brody, please stop."
He grabbed my left hand and started to bring it to his lips. "Stop it. Brady!" I shouted, pulling my hand roughly from his.
"What? You think you're better than me. or something? Is that it?"
"Think what you want. Only get out," I said sharply.
"There are lots of girls who wouldn't throw me out of their bedrooms." he bragged, his ego bruised.
"Good. Go to them," I said.
I hated being this mean. but I had to. I told myself. I had to be meaner still.
"You're too young for me,"
I
continued. "And you're still a boy. The years between us don't even begin to suggest the differences. I'm worlds older than you and I don't want any relationships. I told you that. I don't know what gave you the idea we could be lovers,"
"Me neither." he said angrily.
"So then, go to sleep. Let me sleep." I cried.
In the darkness he couldn't see the tears streaming down my cheeks. If he had, he would not have understood what really poured them over my lids.
"Sure. Go back to England,'" he said. "You'll be sorry. I sure had you pegged wrong."
"That's right," I said. You pegged me wrong." I covered my face with my hands.
He stood there staring at me for a few moments and then he left my bedroom, slamming the door closed behind him.
"Oh Mother," I cried. "you don't know how much pain you continue to put into your own children."