Out (9 page)

“What do you
mean?”

“I just don’t
want you two fighting about this at dinner, embarrassing your father.” He
places the pie near the window, which is open just a crack, and the steam wafts
out as if escaping.

“We wouldn’t
talk about this over dinner,” I say, shaking my head. The lie becomes more
comfortable each time I tell it. “Something like a birth mother isn’t that big
of a deal.”

“Sure sounded
like a big deal,” he murmurs.

Big deal. If he
only knew.

I watch out the
front window like a kid waiting for a bad report card to come in the mail. When
Lainie’s
black Lexus pulls up, my palms start to
sweat. And that’s before Carmen even gets out of the car.

“Chris, can you
put the crudités out, please?” Warren calls from the kitchen.

“They’re here,”
I mutter as I stumble in. “
Lainie
and Car…the girl.”

“Great, they’re
early,” he grumbles, handing me a silver platter of carrots, celery, and other
vegetables arrayed artistically around a dipping sauce. “Hurry.”

 
I’m pointlessly rearranging baby carrots and
rose-shaped radishes when the doorbell rings. Jana runs down the stairs and
opens it as I take way more time than I need to place the platter of snacks on
the coffee table. I hear the pleasantries exchanged, but listen for Carmen’s
voice above the others.

“And this is my
brother, Chris,” Jana says, steering them toward me.

Lainie
, all zebra-print scarf and shocking blue pantsuit,
eyes me curiously. “You were at our meeting today, weren’t you?”

“Yes, ma’am,” I
say, struggling not to squeak. I try not to look at Carmen, but it’s
impossible. Behind her gaze, detachment. Like nothing ever happened.

“You must have
seen Carmen there, then.” She beams at the girl, who pastes an empty but
friendly expression on her face. “Carmen Wilde, Chris Bryant.”

 
Carmen extends her hand, and I feel the air
go out of my lungs as if someone sucker punched me. I have to shake her hand…if
I don’t, it will look weird. But if I shake her hand, I might not let go. God.

I cover the
panic with a racking cough, then wave at her. “Oh, sorry. Allergies. Nice to
meet you.”

She lets her
hand fall to her side, purses her lips, and murmurs, “Sure. Nice to meet you,
too, Chris.” Do I imagine it or does she linger on my name just a second too
long?

Lainie
doesn’t notice. “I’m so excited to get to sit down
and talk with Jim McFarland. The west coast is ahead of us in so many ways, and
I’m sure he has some great ideas about the future of the church and the
Perpendicular League.”

Warren sweeps
in and rescues me. “It wouldn’t be a dinner party without you,
Lainie
.” He offers her a glass of red wine, which she takes
with a huge smile.

David trots
briskly down the stairs. “
Lainie
!” he says as if
she's an old friend. He kisses her on both cheeks. “So glad you could be here.”

She returns the
air kisses. “It was so good of you to include me, David.” What phonies. “And
this is Carmen Wilde, from California. Alexandra's daughter.”

I almost choke
when David looks at her. I'm so afraid that she'll somehow tip off what we are,
but he barely looks at her.

“Nice to meet
you,” he says dismissively before focusing on
Lainie
again. He doesn't see. How could he not see? I feel like I’ve turned bright
green with
polks
dots since this afternoon, like neon
rays of lust are shooting out of me toward Carmen. “Now,
Lainie
,
let's talk about topics for tonight's dinner.” He takes her by the elbow and
steers her toward the parlor.

Warren watches
them and then says, “Chris, could you help me set the table?”

Lainie
turns back toward us. “Carmen, could you run along
and help as well?”

Carmen glances
at me as if we’ve both been sentenced to prison. “Sure,” she says softly before
looking away.

 
My upper lip starts to sweat as we follow
Warren into the kitchen.

“I don’t think
we’ve met,” Warren says, smiling at Carmen in that warm, charming way he has. “I’m
Warren.”

“Carmen.” They
shake hands and she smiles nervously, a Cheshire cat keeping a damning secret. “I
love your house. So nice of you to have us over.”

Warren’s on to
the roast, his head halfway in the huge oven. “You’re most welcome. Let’s get
those settings out, before this meat walks away by itself.”

I wordlessly
show Carmen where the good china is kept, and we pull ivory-colored plates from
the shelf. We’re trying so hard to avoid each other that I drop a plate in a
shattering explosion of ceramic and gold leaf.

“Good God,
Chris! Be careful!” Warren glares at me. “That cannot be replaced.”

“It was my
fault,” Carmen blurts out.
 
“We reached
for the same plate at the same time. Can I offer to pay for it, Mr. Bryant?”

He chuckles. “David
is Mr. Bryant. Call me Warren. And no, you can’t pay for it, but thank you for
offering.” He grabs a broom and dustpan and thrusts them into my hands. “Chris,
let’s try and get through dinner without further damage, okay?”
 
He has no idea what damage is possible. But I
won’t let him find out.

After cleaning
up, I grab silver from the polished mahogany case and point toward the dining
room. “After you,” I say, trying not to look into Carmen’s impossibly beautiful
eyes.

“Sorry about
the plate,” she says softly. She’s waiting for me to look at her, which is
awkward, but I have to do it. When our eyes meet, my breath sticks in my
throat. All I can do is nod, stare at the floor, and push past her into the
dining room.

The bell rings
again. McFarland. David jumps to answer it as we set plates in symmetrical
patterns,
Lainie
close on his heels. A blast of
chilly air from outside sweeps into the room, carrying the scent of the overly
spicy aftershave McFarland slathers on. Baritone chatter fills the hall,
punctuated with
Lainie’s
fawning alto.

“That’s him?”
Carmen whispers as she folds a napkin.

I nod.

“I’ve never met
him in person.”

“I’m sorry you
had to be here,” I offer.

“I’m not.” Her
eyes light up, and a trembling smile makes me want to kiss her.

“Chris!”
McFarland saunters into the dining room and claps an all-too-familiar arm
around my shoulder, keeping it there for a few too many seconds. Carmen
pretends to be adjusting silverware. “Good to see you again.”

“Glad you could
come over, sir,” I manage to say without looking him in the eye. Those pieces
of cutlery aren’t just going to arrange themselves. I become extremely absorbed
in how each knife lines up with the creased edge of the napkin.

“Sir?” he
snorts. “Ouch. I hope you don’t think of me as a ‘sir’. Call me Jim.”

“Hi, Jim,”
Carmen says sweetly, extending her hand. “Carmen Wilde. I think we’re both
Californians, right?”

McFarland
unwillingly acknowledges her intrusion and shakes her hand. “Ms. Wilde, of
course I’ve heard about you, and of course, your mother. How is Alexandra? Last
time I saw her, we were at a fundraiser in Sacramento, I think.”

 
“Probably. She’s always doing some event.”
Carmen licks her lips. “If you’ll excuse me?” She walks into the kitchen and I
hear her ask Warren the whereabouts of the bathroom.

She’s left me
alone with McFarland.
 
“So, Chris,” he
says smoothly. “How’s school?”

“Okay.”
 
I stare into the kitchen, unsure of what to
say.

I’m saved from
more useless chatter by Warren, who calls out “Dinner is served!”

Jana thunders
down the stairs, surveying the situation from the third step. Her eyes meet
mine, but she gives me nothing but a blank stare.

 
Pretty soon we’re all sitting down to dinner,
the adults trading tips on wine deals and portfolio investments, the rest of us
sitting silently wishing there was a kid’s table.

Anyone
observing from outside would say that we had a perfectly pleasant meal among
well-to-do, pretty friends; there are compliments about the roast, about the
extraordinary salad dressing, the china, the house. To me, dinner feels like
Russian Roulette. I keep my mouth shut, hoping that if I am silent I have less
of a chance of giving myself away.

I knew that at
some point, the conversation would turn political. I was hoping it would wait
until dessert, but no such luck.
 
“So,
Jim, you know that Carmen here is Alexandra Wilde’s daughter,”
Lainie
says as she dabs her enormous red lips with a linen
napkin. “Lovely wine, David. French?”

“Italian,”
David answers. I see him adjust his posture so he leans forward in a power
position. The game is on. “So, Carmen, are you active in the Perpendicular
League on the west coast? We have a very active branch here, as you know.”

Carmen nods as
she takes a drink from her water glass. “I’m here because my mother wanted me
to see how the League works in other areas of the country.” She smiles warmly
at
Lainie
. “Obviously, yours is a great example.”

Lainie
smiles demurely. She reminds me of a crocodile
grinning in anticipation of a fat, juicy duck. “Oh, you’re too kind.” She
gestures toward my father. “Of course, we’d love to be even more involved with
the
Anglicant
church, formally, I mean. Isn’t your
mother’s group a formal voting partnership within the church?” She bats her
eyes as if she hadn’t just called David out as a hands-off,
Perp
-loving
liberal.

Carmen’s smart
enough to know that we’re eating in a minefield now. She fills her mouth with
rice.

“Now
Lainie
, we’d be more than happy to have the Perpendicular
League involved in St.
Aelred’s
more formally,” David
says with just a touch too much enthusiasm. “But we’d have to resolve the dues
situation.”

At this point,
I’d love to disappear into the floorboards, because the real shit slinging is
going to start. This has been a fight between the two of them for as long as I
remember.

Luckily, dinner
is finished; in an effort to
buzzkill
political talk,
Warren says, “Let’s all go to the parlor for some brandy. We have some dessert
too, but I know there’s no way I can take another bite at the moment!”

The war of
words is temporarily halted, and
Lainie
pastes a
civil smile on her face. “That would be wonderful,” she says. “Can we help you
clear?”

“Oh, no,” Jana
jumps in. “My brother and I always do that. You all go ahead. We’ll clean up.”

“Wow,” David
says, “this political stuff must be pretty dull if you’re willing to clear the
table to avoid it.” He hugs Jana, who grins wanly but doesn’t answer.

“I’ll
supervise,” Warren says. He hates the political crap as much as we do. “I don’t
want you all ruining my kitchen.”

“Carmen can
help,”
Lainie
offers. “I’m sure all of this is boring
for her too.”
Lainie
, David, and Jim amble into the
parlor, and I hear the clinking of crystal as they settle in for a good, long
veiled argument. Jesus, I’m glad they’re gone.

Carmen
wordlessly picks up dishes and napkins, avoiding me as she goes to the kitchen.
Jana sweeps in and whispers in my ear, “That’s the girl, huh?”

I swat her
away. “What do you mean?”

She leans in. “That’s
the girl. That’s how you knew.”

“Jana, I don’t
know what—”

The look on her
face stops me. “I know, Chris. I know. Stop trying to deny it.” Her eyes blaze
fiercely, with victory, with a secret, with superiority, I don’t know what. What
is she going to do? She’s right. I can’t deny it. I’m a really bad actor.
 

“Relax. I’m not
going to turn you in or anything.” She glances into the parlor, then says, “I
want to help you.”

“Why would you
do that?” I pick up the butter dish and nearly let it slip to the floor.

“Because I
understand.” She puts a hand on my arm. “I understand, Chris. Get it?”

 
I’ve never been any good at reading people, or
getting messages from between the lines. It’s probably why I have so few
friends. But I swear, I think she’s telling me that maybe she’s the same way.
Is that possible?

Carmen takes
the breadbasket and salt and pepper into the kitchen, and I follow her.
 
She gazes out the window near the sink. “You
can see so many stars here,” she comments. “I guess because you don’t have so
much ambient light. Back home, it seems like everything is lit up 24 hours a
day.”

“California
never closes,” Warren says as he shuts the refrigerator door with his hip. “We
were there once, Chris. Do you remember?”

“The national
park?” I vaguely remember pine scents, massive trunks of trees, driving through
the middle of a sequoia. “I think so. I was pretty little.”

“Chris thought
the trees were magic castles,” Jana says as she sets down plates. “He wanted to
climb one and pretend to be a knight. He carried a stick around and poked
people with it, telling them to surrender to the Star Prince.”
 
She pokes me in the side. “Go show her the
telescope. It’s a clear night. You might be able to see Gemini.”

Warren waves at
us. “Go on. I’m going to hide in here as long as I can. You might as well
escape before someone decides you’d be useful in a conversation.”

“Wow, you sound
pretty cynical,” Jana remarks as she pulls one of Warren’s apron strings. “One
would almost think you find the political conversations boring.”