“Ma, I brought somebody with me.”
Gertrude glanced over when Jimmy stood aside. “Mary Margaret, it’s about time you came.”
“Hi, Ma.”
“Sara, why are you hiding out there?”
Jimmy said, “Come on in, girls.”
Tentatively, Maggie stepped into the room. Sara let go of Caroline’s hand and followed close behind.
There was no one in her way now, so Gertrude Lorenzo had a clear view of the daughter she hadn’t seen in thirty-seven years. “Who’s this? A neighbor?” The scowl she directed at Sara was all too familiar. “I’m not ready for company.”
Caroline came fully inside. “I’m not a neighbor, Ma.”
Gertrude clutched her throat.
And then the miracle Maggie had been praying for, the miracle Jimmy was so sure he could pull off, did not happen. Instead, her mother’s face flushed with rage. “Jesus Christ, how could you…” She reached out for her son. “Jimmy, why would you let them do this to me?”
“Because it’s time, Ma.”
“No. Never.” Her mother started to breathe fast.
Sara moved in closer. “Ma, are you all right?”
“All right?” Her voice was thready. “You would do this me when I’m on my deathbed?”
“You’re fine, Ma,” Sara said. “Paul agrees.”
“Paul wouldn’t…” Her eyes were wild. “You’re all ganging up on me.”
“Ma—” Jimmy began but was cut off when her mother started to cough.
“I can’t breathe.”
Calmly, Jimmy stepped over to an oxygen tank in the corner. He picked up the nose attachment and crossed to his mother. “Here, put this on.”
She batted his hand away, hard, and the line fell to the floor. “Help me, Sara. I…can’t…” Gertrude began to gasp.
Panicking, Sara reached for the phone on the nightstand and punched in three numbers.
Jimmy said, “Sara, don’t, she’s okay.”
But Sara said into the receiver, “We need an ambulance right away at 56 Camden Place. My mother can’t breathe.”
The three other people in the room froze and just stared at Gertrude.
Then color came back into her face.
A gleam came into her eyes.
Gertrude Lorenzo had won this face-off. Suddenly, they were all kids again, reduced to powerlessness and once more under this woman’s control.
The psychology department at Rochester Community College met in a conference room every Monday morning and kept to their schedule, even though classes were over for the semester. Nancy Schultz, the chair, had switched off the air-conditioning and opened the windows. The teachers seemed to be enjoying the mild May weather and were cheerful as they gathered around an oval table with doughnuts and coffee. Nancy passed out an agenda and gave members a chance to peruse it. “Any new courses for the fall of next year will need to be in before you go on summer vacation.”
Someone murmured, “What vacation?”
Many of the staff taught summer school sessions. Maggie had, too, when Mike was in graduate school and once when he was in danger of losing his job. She’d missed the time off with the boys and was grateful every year not to have to teach again.
Nancy joined in the chuckles. “Suggestions for curriculum?”
Damien lounged back in his chair, all masculine grace and charm. “I’m going to propose a full semester course on the psychology of art. Several of my 101 kids took a real interest in the mini unit I did with them.”
Nancy smiled at Damien. “Give it a shot.” She scanned the others.
One person suggested Spirituality and Psychology: do they cancel each other out? Again Nancy encouraged the teacher to forge ahead with a proposal. Maggie thought maybe
she’d
like to take that class.
“I have one.” That she’d been considering since winter. “A class on the gay and lesbian experience in the teens and twenties. It would be for gay students and straight ones who might be dealing with their friends and family members who are gay. I might call it The Ups and Downs of Coming Out.”
“We have courses on gay issues in our Women’s Studies Program.” The professor who made the comment taught one of them. “Lesbianism as a feminist issue. The History of Women and Sexual Orientation.”
“I wouldn’t take a feminist view, Lee.”
“What tack would you take?” The other teacher’s tone wasn’t challenging. It held interest and a trace of support.
“An inclusive view of the psychological ramifications of coming out, the effects on a person’s whole life, the ups and downs, as the name suggests.” Maggie shrugged. “I’m not sure exactly where I’d go with it. I’ve got to think it through. And I’d seek your input.”
“Don’t overlap with their courses.” This comment came from an older man Maggie didn’t like. “And don’t make it some
gut course
with no substance.”
Damien leaned over in his seat, his shoulders stiff. “I can’t fathom Maggie Davidson ever teaching fluff, Harold.” He shot her a quick smile. “Your course sounds great to me, Mag.”
The meeting ended and, as the others filed out, Nancy asked Maggie to stay. When they were alone, she leaned back casually in her armchair. “Interesting course.” A pause. “Can I ask you a personal question?”
“Sure.”
“You’ve had a rough few months. I haven’t brought it up before because it hasn’t affected your work, but I’ve noticed you’ve lost weight and seem anxious lately. Want to talk about what’s bothering you?”
Hating that the effects of her family troubles were so obvious, especially to her colleagues, Maggie shook her head. “No, thanks. I’m working it out.”
“All right. I hope the course you suggested flies.” Nancy’s expression turned soft, understanding. “I’m sure my daughter would enroll.”
Ah, interesting subtext.
“My son Jamie would like it, too, but he’s still in high school.”
“And he’s gay, right?”
“He told us this spring.”
Nancy stared over Maggie’s shoulder. There was a distant expression in her brown eyes. “I remember when Callie came out. She was a sophomore in college. Boy, did it throw our family into chaos.”
“Ours, too. There’s so much to deal with once it’s out in the open.”
“It’s really tough for even supportive, loving parents to work through. There’s still significant homophobia in our society today.”
“Mike and I are trying really hard to handle this right.”
“And Jamie will grow up the better for it.” She studied Maggie for a few seconds. “You know, sometimes people in the field of psychology won’t seek professional help when they need it. I saw a counselor after Callie’s disclosure and he saved my sanity.”
“I got some help initially. Now I’m waiting for my therapist to get back into town. Unfortunately, she left for a month’s vacation in Greece not long after this broke.”
“Do you know about PFLAG and the Gay Alliance?”
“Yes, I’ve been to their Web sites and I gave Jamie some information on both.”
“There are terrific local resources. And if you need to talk to a mom who’s been where you are, just holler.”
“Thank you, Nancy. I might do that.”
“Let me leave you with one thought. There will come a day when Jamie’s being gay is a fact of life and not an
issue
anymore. Your family will discuss it openly, joke about it. At least that’s what happened to us.”
The thought of Brian or Mike joking about Jamie’s sexual orientation was so farfetched Maggie couldn’t imagine it. The atmosphere around the house was stifling. “I hope so.”
“You can’t see that now. But I know you, your boys, and I have a feel for the kind of man Mike is. This will work out.”
Thinking about support coming from unexpected places, Maggie was bemused when she reached her office—where Damien waited in the corridor.
He slouched against the wall, arms crossed. His black jeans fit him well and the gray striped golf shirt accented his broad chest. “Hi, gorgeous.”
Maybe his greeting was inappropriate, but with people telling her she’d lost weight and seemed haggard, it felt good. “Hi. Do you need something from me?”
He winked. “Now there’s a question.”
She gave him a scolding look.
“Okay, I’ll behave. I wanted to talk to you.”
“Come on in.”
They took seats on the couch again, with Damien sitting a little closer than usual.
“So, you won’t be teaching summer school?”
“No, thankfully.”
“What will you do for three months?” Damien asked.
Referee
, she thought. “My sister, who I haven’t seen in years, is in town for the summer, so I’ll get to spend time with her.”
“Really? Why did you lose touch?”
“Long story.”
One she couldn’t bear to tell today. She could still see her mother, gasping for breath, as the paramedics treated her with oxygen and albuterol, and the vulnerable expression on Sara’s face when she had to ask Maggie and Caroline to leave.
“I got time,” Damien told her.
“No, it’s too painful right now.”
“Tell me about your sons, then. Talking about them always makes you happy. What’s happening with Brian and college?”
The notion made her heart heavy. She’d yet to deal with Brian leaving home. “He got a nice chunk of change from Ithaca College. It’s a good school and he’ll fit right in.”
“You’ll still have Jamie at home, right?”
“Yes. He’s a joy to be with.”
Damien’s seemed sad. “You’re a terrific role model for parents, Mag.”
Oh, Lord. Talk about irony.
“Thanks.”
“Though something’s wrong, isn’t it, at home? Or is it just your sister’s reappearance that I’m reading now.”
Once again she hesitated to answer. He’d asked this before, and she’d dodged the issue.
“You wheedled out of answering that question weeks ago.” Maybe he did have ESPP. “Talk to me.”
What the hell?
“Our family has had some upheavals other than Caroline in the last month.”
“And is that fairytale marriage of yours in trouble?”
“No, of course not.”
His gray eyes focused on her. “I don’t believe you. Like I said, I have a sense about these things. Especially with you.”
Grasping her hand, he held it tightly. Damien and she had shared some collegial hugs, a squeeze on the shoulder, pats on the back. And hand holding wasn’t really a
move
, was it?
“All right, Mike and I are having problems. But I love my husband.”
He didn’t let her go.
“A fact I truly bemoan.”
“Damien—”
“Shh. Let me say this, then I’ll drop it. A lot of men find you very attractive, and if your marriage is deteriorating, you have choices. I think you know what I’m saying, Maggie.”
For a brief moment, she let herself spin out the fantasy of what it might be like to have an affair with a dynamic man like Damien. It would feel good. Do her ego good. Maybe that was why she didn’t pull back when he leaned over and kissed her cheek.
A sharp knock on the open door, then, “Maggie?” Father Pete stood at the entrance to her office.
As unobtrusively as she could, she extricated her hand from Damien’s and rose. He followed suit.
“Hello, Father,” Maggie said.
Damien introduced himself, then left.
In his traditional collar, black shirt, and pants, the priest’s eyes were troubled. “I hope it’s all right that I dropped in. I was driving by the college and had you on my mind. I decided God steered my car this way, telling me I should come see you.” He glanced to the couch. “Now I’m glad I did.”
Purposely, she ignored the innuendo. “It’s fine that you came, Father.”
Ushering him inside, Maggie offered coffee, which he accepted. When she returned with a mug, she slid behind her desk and he took the chair in front of it.
“What can I do for you?”
“I was hoping it was more what I could do for you.”
“In what way?”
“Maggie, you weren’t at church Sunday, nor was Jamie. Mike and Brian attended Mass alone. When I asked your husband how you were, he told me where you’d gone.”
“To a new church.”
“Yes. He also said that you’d been visiting other congregations, which I wish I’d known then, so I could have counseled you.”
She gripped the edge of the desk so she wouldn’t fidget. “Is that why you’re here now?”
“I’m here because I care a great deal about you and your family.”
He did. She knew that. “I appreciate that, Father.”
“And I’m advising you not to seek answers in another church.”
Maggie remained silent, waiting for him to go on.
“I imagine you’re confused right now. But leaving God isn’t the answer.”
“I’m not leaving God, Father. I’m leaving the Catholic Church.”
Father Pete frowned deeply. “Don’t let this new place seduce you away from us.”