For Better Or Worse (4 page)

“Gail, so fucking hot, take what you want, baby, come for me.”

I could have died right then, on the verge of orgasm with Julie, beautiful, sweet, soft Julie, talking dirty in my ear. What took me then didn’t feel like death at all but just the opposite as every muscle in my body tensed, and every nerve was set on fire in radiant waves. I shouted something, probably her name, and I gasped and ground my hips into the vibe and otherwise made a spectacle of myself. When my ears stopped ringing and my body relaxed, Julie started to laugh triumphantly.

I joined her.

Christmas Day wasn’t a complete disaster, but it wasn’t what I would call “Merry” either.

Julie’s brothers arrived early in the morning. Peter was first, and I was surprised by him. He was taller than I’d expected and very handsome, too; he didn’t fit my image of a brain surgeon at all.

Peter introduced me to Ellen, his wife, and to their kids; eleven-year old Andrew, who was cute as could be, and four-year old Allison who walked right passed me and into Kathleen’s arms.

Ellen was attractive, but just as vapid as Julie had led me to believe.

Robert barreled in next, wearing nothing more than knee-length gym shorts and a ratty-looking t-shirt despite the cold, and carrying three duffel bags and a lap top computer bag as well. Eileen, the maid, whisked two of the three duffels away instantly as they were apparently laundry, and Robert dumped the third at the foot of the stairs. After a brief hello to everyone, he announced that he had to check his email and disappeared into his father’s study with his laptop.

Breakfast was chaotic, and Julie’s family stepped all over each other in the kitchen. The kids took their food and disappeared to watch TV, so just the adults were left behind to make small talk, drink coffee and choke down eggs. Peter and I had a halting conversation about the weather and about their flight out from the East Coast. He didn’t seem uncomfortable around me as much as just generally uncomfortable around so many people at once. In my eyes, he solidly maintained his geek status while gaining a few points for trying to be friendly.

Robert joined us after a half an hour or so. He came into the kitchen and went straight for the refrigerator. “There are eggs on the counter and some of that multigrain bread that you like by the toaster honey,” Kathleen shouted to him over the general din of conversation. Robert grunted back at her and pulled a carton of milk out of the fridge from which he drank directly while frying up a couple of eggs. Kathleen looked positively mortified. I looked at Julie and she ginned

at me. Julie had once told me that Robert was a very talented potter, but that he chose banking because it paid the bills better. She and Robert were close, I knew that, and now I could see why.

After about an hour it was decided that we should move into the living room, where the Christmas tree had been erected by the house staff the day before, to open presents. The kids were summoned and they immediately began tearing into gifts.

Julie and I had promised not to spend a lot on each other, so she gave me toasty slippers from L.L. Bean, a pair of cozy-looking mittens that she had knitted herself, and Katherine Hepburn’s biography. I gave her toe socks, an organic perfume, and a gift certificate to her favorite spa for a day. She got upset that I’d spent more on her than she had on me, so with a grin, I whispered into her ear the numerous ways in which she could make it up to me.

Julie’s parents exchanged gifts as well. Kathleen got Gareth a fancy humidor for his cigars and Gareth gave her sapphire earrings and a matching sapphire and diamond bracelet. Kathleen gave Julie a fat American Express Gift Check, and I thought it was sad that she didn’t know Julie well enough to realize that Julie would rather have a ten dollar gift that her mother had picked out with Julie in mind, than a thousand dollar check. Julie frowned at Kathleen, but quickly covered it with a smile, thanked her politely, and put the check away.

“Hang on Julie, sweetie, I’ve got something for you, too.” Gareth stood up and retrieved a box from next to the tree. He nodded seriously to Julie as he handed it over. “These are for those kids of yours, the ones you said couldn’t afford them,” he told her, looking uneasy with the whole process of gift-giving, but hopeful. The box was full of scientific calculators for Julie’s students.

He hadn’t wrapped it, but it didn’t matter; apparently Gareth actually listened when Julie spoke to him on the phone. I knew I’d liked him.

While waiting nervously for a response from Julie, Gareth said, “Education is the most important thing we can give our children.”

Julie stared at her father with wide eyes and I realized that Gareth was telling her a great deal more with those words than ‘every kid should have a calculator’. Julie was a teacher by choice, by calling, and apparently Gareth shared her convictions and didn’t think she was a fuck-up after all. Julie burst into grateful tears and threw her arms around his neck, and he gave her a thousand-watt smile.

The hordes arrived around four, along with caterers and waiters in black and white, all ready to serve the McHugh family their holiday dinner. There were cousins, aunts, uncles, a gaggle of kids and even a couple of dogs. There was also a great deal of wine and so I don’t recall anyone’s name.

Julie got swept away by family and dinner wasn’t until seven so I went exploring. The house was huge, and I didn’t care much for Kathleen’s taste, but the view was still breathtaking. I sipped my wine and ducked my head into bedroom after bedroom before giving up on the third floor. The second was the main floor where everyone was congregating and I wanted to avoid crowds so I headed down to the first. Gareth’s study was on this floor and I found Robert there talking on his cell phone and punching keys on his computer. I hope I never have to work so hard that I can’t take a holiday off.

Down the hall was a very masculine looking game room with a pool table and darts. It smelled faintly of cigars. Next door I discovered Andrew. He was hanging out alone and playing video game. I leaned in the door and watched for a bit, then got a bit bolder and flopped on the couch beside him.

“All the other kids are upstairs,” I offered.

“Uh huh. That’s why I’m down here.”

“Ah, I see. Too much?”

Andrew nodded. “Too crazy.”

I watched him play for a while. “You’re good at this game, huh?”

“I have it at home. I play it all the time. My friend Jim is better, he’s at like the fifth level.”

“Wow.” I had no idea what the fifth level meant, but Andrew was impressed so I decided I should be. We didn’t say anything more for a long while. I guess I was tired because I nearly dozed off watching him play. Finally, I was startled awake again by his voice.

“When did you figure out you liked girls?” Andrew asked me.

“Uh,” I sat up, blinking myself awake. “What?”

“You like girls right? You’re Aunt Julie’s girlfriend?”

“Well, yes. I am Julie’s girlfriend.” I prefer lover, or even partner, but I wasn’t going to get into all of that with an eleven-year old. Frankly, I didn’t want to get into any of it at all. I looked around to see if by any chance there was someone who was actually related to this kid that could rescue me, but we were still alone.

“Yeah, so when did you figure out you like girls?”

“Um…” Fuckityfuckfuckfuck. I started searching my arsenal of avoidance tactics. Excuse myself the bathroom, point at something shiny… ah! Answer a question with a question. “Well, when did _you _ figure out that you liked girls?”

“I’ve always liked girls,” Andrew said, trying to sound smooth. He was still playing his video game.

“Oh?”

“Girls have boobies. Like Angelina Jolie.”

Ms. Jolie does indeed have nice boobies. I felt as I’d just entered the Twilight Zone, but I couldn’t argue with the kid. “Yes,” I said. “Yes, they do have boobies.”

And with as little as that, we were bonded. Andrew handed me the controller and showed me how to play. Huzzah for boobies.

Eventually Ellen came looking for Andrew to tell him that dinner was ready. She smiled at me and told me with a chuckle that of course I was invited, too. I think she was trying to make a joke, but it was hard to tell above the hollow sound her pea brain was making as it rattled around in her skull.

The food was amazing, and there was so much of it that I envisioned myself, with some dismay, eating nothing but turkey for the remainder of our visit. Gareth and I exchanged a few pleasant words, but Julie and her mother didn’t speak at all. In fact apart from the gift-giving, they hadn’t spoken all day.

A lot of things came up over dinner. People wanted to know how Julie and I met, they wanted to know what I did for a living, and they wanted to know… wait for it… whether or not we were planning a family. Julie chimed in quickly, probably to prevent me from answering.

“Well,” Julie began to explain slowly, but Kathleen interrupted her.

“Of course not,” she said dismissively, and I dreaded what was going to come out next.

“Children need a mother and a
father
, isn’t that right, Julie?”

“Do they?” I noticed that Julie’s sour lemon face looked just like her mother’s. It was scary. “It’s a wonder I survived, then.”

Andrew’s voice chimed in. “You’re going to have a baby Aunt Julie?”

The table went silent. Julie stared at Andrew. I stared at Julie. Kathleen stared at Gareth and finally, Gareth said, “Could someone please pass the mashed potatoes?” and that, thank God, ended the conversation.

Several courses later, Julie and I excused ourselves and went for a walk to rest our stomachs and take in some of the beautiful, crisp, clean, Vail air. It really was beautiful there, I can’t seem to say it enough. The most beautiful place I’d ever been. Too bad I don’t ski.

In lieu of skiing, we spent the remainder of our evening in bed and I let Julie give me the rest of my Christmas gift. She tied my wrists to the bed frame with her new toe socks.

Early the following morning, the McHugh house was quiet. The cousins and other extended family had all gone home the night before. Julie was still asleep, as were her parents as far as I could tell. Slowly, I made my way down the wide bending stairway and across the slated foyer.

The morning sun pierced through the windows aggressively, but somehow failed to warm the chilly, stone floor as sunshine should. I wiggled my toes in my new slippers, grateful for their protection from the cold slate. I made my way through the large dining room and into the kitchen in search of coffee.

The kitchen was magnificent. It was stainless steel and blues and greys with a ceramic tiled floor.

One end enjoyed an amazing view, though the windows weren’t as tall as at the other end of the house. I peered out at the mountains. Someone must have been awake because the small Bose radio was on.

“Carmen,” I said aloud, though to no one in particular, as the kitchen appeared empty.

A voice from the pantry replied, however, and I jumped a little. “Julie? Is that you, sweetie-pie?

I’m glad you came down, I wanted to talk to you.”

Shit. Kathleen. I was alone with the Mother-In-Law. “Um no, it’s—”

“Gail,” Kathleen stated coolly, cutting me off as she returned from the pantry. “You’re up early.”

“I couldn’t sleep so I came down for some coffee.”

“Coffee doesn’t help you sleep.”

That was such a mother comment. “Well, no, Kathleen, I’d given up on sleeping.”

Kathleen tilted her head at me and asked, “You know Carmen?”

“I love opera.”

“I never would have guessed.”

I shook my head. “I’m thinking there’s a lot about me you would never guess.”

“I don’t know many bartenders who enjoy the opera.” She chuckled slightly and poured herself a cup of coffee, too.

“And how many bartenders _do _ you know, Kathleen?”

She looked at me. “Oh, all right, Gail, very few.”

I looked at her.

“Fine. None. Well, you, that’s one,” she said with an exasperated tone. Her lips went flat. “But you know what I mean.”

“Yes, Kathleen, I know what you mean.” Bartenders are uneducated idiots. I heard her loud and clear. The air went still and quiet and the tension could have fried the eggs she’d left sitting on the counter. Finally I joined in with the radio, singing softly just to break the silence. “L’amour est enfant de bohéme, il n’a jamias connu de loi.”

“That’s French,” Kathleen informed me.

“Love is a gypsy child, he has never heard of law.” I translated, just to make a point, before I realized with no small irony how relevant that phrase was. It wasn’t lost on Kathleen, either.

“Indeed,” she said, looking at me from the other side of the counter with an unreadable expression. I sipped my coffee and tried to pretend that I had made that point on purpose. “Do you love Julie, Gail?” Kathleen asked suddenly, as if she’d been looking for that opening since we’d arrived and had finally found it.

On its face, it was a fair enough question for a mother to ask of her daughter’s lover, so I decided to treat it as if it had been asked fairly. I set my mug down on the counter and looked at

Kathleen. “Yes,” I said simply. Kathleen’s eyes seemed to be searching mine for something and I started to wonder in the moment of silence that followed if I’d missed something about her. “Julie is the reason I get out of bed in the morning, Kathleen,” I went on, in case she had any lingering doubts. “She’s my best friend, my crutch, my reality check. She’s my sunshine.”

Kathleen studied me a moment longer and I noticed for the first time that her eyes were hazel like Julie’s, and the same shape. “I believe you,” she said softly, and turned away, reaching into a low cabinet to pull out a frying pan. “Omelet?”

“I’m lesbian not a liar, Kathleen.”

She turned on me and I saw a flash in her eyes that was reminiscent of Julie’s temper. “I’d have asked a man the same question,” she snapped and turned back to the stove, setting the frying pan on it.

I dropped my head with a sigh and nodded, staring at the counter. Damn. I looked up again and blinked at Kathleen’s back before clearing my throat. “Sorry. Of course you would have. It was a fair question.”