“No! She didn’t call! I had no idea!”
“What are you going to do?”
“What can I do? She’s my mother for God’s sake!”
“But she doesn’t know about—"
“I know!”
Lorna continued to pace with her arms across her chest. She had to think. “I have to figure this out before things get out of hand.” She paced and then looked at Doreen, “What did you need?”
Doreen took a rag out of her back pocket and wiped at her hands. “Don’t worry about it, hon. I’ll go find Milton.”
“They’re out getting supplies for the dinner.”
“Oh shit, that’s right. Thanksgiving.”
Lorna shuddered.
“Oh, Lorn. What can I do?”
“Just give me a minute to think things out. I mean, I can’t very well hide everything from her.”
Doreen shook her head. “If you need me, holler. Sorry I spilled the beans. I didn’t know anyone was here.”
“No, it’s okay. It was bound to come out some time. I just didn’t think it would be now.”
Doreen blew her a kiss and walked back to her garage.
Lorna went back into the main building via the back door, her nerves on edge.
Trying to hide her discomfort she called up the stairs in a more jovial voice than she felt. “Mother? Can I bring you a cold drink? Iced tea or lemonade?”
Her mother answered flatly, “Iced tea would be lovely, Lorna. Thank you.”
Lorna fussed in the kitchen trying to buy some time. Maybe if she just ignored the endearments from Doreen, the ones her mother heard clear as day, they could carry on as if nothing had happened.
Lorna filled a glass with ice and poured the fresh-brewed tea. She cut a lemon into wedges and found a straw in the cupboard.
She climbed the steps, praying for a sudden tornado.
“Here you are.” Lorna did not meet her mother’s eye as she handed her the iced tea. “I’m sorry I didn’t get a chance to dust. Here, let me get this done quickly.” She went into the hall closet, pulled out a rag and a spray can of furniture polish and said lightly, “This won’t take but a moment.”
Her mother stepped aside and sipped her beverage.
Lorna continued to talk. “So, how is the house? Norman and Gail?”
“Fine.”
Lorna dusted over the same area twice. Her mother returned to her unpacking. Or more like rearranging the contents of her suitcase.
“Lorna?” Esther said with her back to her daughter.
Lorna could feel it coming. Her throat threatened to close. She continued dusting. “Yes?”
Her mother turned slightly, “Do you have something you want to tell me?”
Lorna froze in place. No, this cannot be happening right now. I’m not—
Esther now turned to face her daughter head on. “Well, do you?”
Lorna thought for a moment that she might vomit. Why couldn’t her mother have just stayed in Cleveland, where the distance between them kept everything in stasis, where she did not have to admit to her lifestyle?
“What do you think I need to tell you, Mother?” Lorna picked up the dusting again.
“Do I make you uncomfortable?”
“Your unexpected arrival has me a bit rattled.”
“They say the element of surprise is the best way to reveal the truth.”
“Is that why you came down here?” Dusting furiously now.
“Well, partially. With your father gone I’ve had a lot of time to think and mull things over. I know that you and I haven’t seen eye to eye, but I think it’s time to forge ahead, don’t you think, Lorna?”
Lorna had stowed the rag and polish in the hall closet while her mother said this. She closed the closet door slowly and stood at the threshold of the room, her arms across her chest. “What is it you want to know, Mother?”
“I think you know.”
Lorna breathed deep and let it out. “Fine.”
Another silence.
“Lorna?”
“Yes, Mother, I am a lesbian.”
Her mother smirked and nodded her head. “How long have you been … this way, Lorna?”
“Most of my life.”
“So, the boyfriends in high school and college were smoke screens for our benefit?”
“Yes.”
“Why did you have to lie about it?”
Lorna felt her temperature rise. “I don’t want to seem ungracious, Mother, but it was hard being who I really was growing up.”
“You were a very happy young lady, Lorna. You excelled in all your studies, you had oodles of friends, you—”
Lorna cut in. “I had to live two lives, Mother.”
“Hmph. Well, I didn’t see that coming.” She turned back to her suitcase. “And why did you feel you had to do that?”
“Mother …”
“And that girl, Jeanette?”
“Do you mean Jeanie?”
“Yes.”
“She was my first love.”
“Well, it all makes sense now.” Esther took her clothes out of the suitcase and put them on the bed. “And the woman who spoke the endearments just a little while ago. Who is she?”
“Doreen. She is my lover.”
“Well,” Esther sighed. “I’m not entirely surprised by your admission but it’s going to take some getting used to. I’ll tell you that your father and I had discussions about this, and I respect you for keeping it quiet, what with your father’s very public business affiliations and possible run for governor.”
“Yes, mother.”
“Is that why you moved so far away?” She turned to look at her daughter.
“Partially. After Dad died, I realized that I didn’t have to live in his shadow anymore.”
Esther shook her head. “Your father was very proud of you. I’m sorry you felt you had to live in his shadow.” This was said with a tinge of sarcasm.
“What can I say, Mother? You came down here to get the truth and now …” Lorna looked down at her painted toenails. She saw a little chip on the right great toe.
The front door to the main building banged open. “Hola?”
Lorna called out, thanking God silently for the interruption. “Upstairs. Be right down.”
Esther whispered, “Who is that?”
“My caretakers. Why don’t we go downstairs so you can meet them?” Lorna was already heading down the steps. She heard her mother follow.
“Hello, Miss Lorna, we got the—oh! You have some company?”
Lorna said, “Anya, Milton. This is my mother, Esther.”
Anya dropped two of the bags she carried in on the floor next to her. “Oh! So nice to meet you, Miss Easter!”
Esther extended her hand, “Well, it’s Esther, no ‘e-a.’”
“Of course. Miss Ester. I am Anya Catalvo and this is my husband, Milton.”
“So nice to meet you, Enya.”
“Yes, well, it is Anya, no ‘eyn.’”
Lorna groaned.
Milton shook Esther’s hand in both of his. “So very nice to meet you, Miss Ester.”
“Caretakers! How wonderful.”
Anya said excitedly, “Miss Lorna, you did not say anything about Miss Ester coming for Thanksgiving!”
Lorna’s eyes widened. She did not have an opportunity to signal to Anya to zip it without her mother seeing the gesture.
Anya continued. “You will be staying for Thanksgiving, Miss Ester? We will have a big crowd and so much great food.”
Esther smiled. “Why, how lovely!” She looked at her daughter. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” She then turned back to Anya. “Will you need anything? Can I pick up dessert or appetizers?”
Lorna stepped in, “Well, the food is pretty well planned out and—”
Anya cut her off. “Maybe more pies?” She looked at Milton. He shrugged. “Hokay, pies will be the best, I think. Donchu think, Miss Lorna?”
Lorna lost the battle.
“Sure.” This meant that her mother was staying. For Thanksgiving.
“Well, Mother?”
“It’s the least I can do for surprising you.”
Anya’s smile faded. “Oh!” She caught on and looked at Lorna, who returned the look with a deep sigh. “A surprise! Well then. Milton and I will unpack the van. We have much to do.”
When Anya and Milton went quickly into the kitchen with the first load of bags, Lorna turned to her face her mother. “Well, while we’re on this unexpected but necessary truth adventure, I supposed it’s time to tell you what goes on around here.”
“Shall we take a walk? I’d like to see that marvelous garden you have out front there.”
“Of course.” But truth journey or not, she was not going to divulge what had been buried underneath the garden prior to the renovations.
Esther breathed in the scents and said, “Just look at this! The water feature is quite impressive, Lorna. And the tiers, how ultimately creative! Was the garden here when you bought the property?”
“Uh, no. Milton designed it, and we all built it.”
“Ah. Your caretakers are very efficient, I’m sure.”
“Shall we sit down?”
Esther sat on one of the cement benches, and Lorna chose the one opposite so she could face her mother.
“So …” Esther lifted her chin. “… What made you embark on this little venture, Lorna?”
“The venture wasn’t so little, but more on that later.”
“Does your being a … lesbian have anything to do with this?”
“In a fashion, yes.”
“Because when you decided to move down here, I thought it was most impulsive, and you’re not an impulsive person. You’ve always been quite pragmatic and thorough.”
“Yes, this is true. But, Mother, for most of my life, I’ve lived two lives.”
“Again, what does that mean?”
“Who I was at home and at school was very different from who I was when I was alone.”
“I don’t understand. Was it because you knew from a young age you were … different?”
“Good Lord, Mother. It’s not a disease. And yes, I knew from a young age something was different, but I didn’t realize it until I met Jeanie.”
“You two spent an inordinate amount of time together.”
“She opened my heart. Colors and sounds and words came to life. I fell in love with her, Mother. Plain and simple.”
Esther sighed. “But you seemed so well-adjusted!”
“Ah yes, the well-adjusted daughter. Always the well-adjusted daughter.”
“You had anything and everything you could want! Clothes, vacations, cars, a top-notch education, a beautiful roof over your head, so many friends!”
“I did. I’m very grateful, Mother. Father was an amazing provider. But I had to have good grades to get into that top-notch school. I had to have the drive to show Father that I was just as capable and Norman and Gail. I had to be involved in school social and political events to uphold the Hughes name. I did all that. But it wasn’t who I was inside.”
“So why couldn’t you be who you were on the inside at home?”
“Because neither one of you would have accepted it, and it had nothing to do with my proclivity.”
“Then, what?”
“Do you know I used to spend almost every moment I could with a group of friends in Coventry?”
Esther guffawed, “The Bohemians?”
“Yep.”
Esther grunted softly and looked around at the garden. “Well, I didn’t see that coming, either.”
Lorna leaned forward, “I usually kept a change of clothes in my car or stuffed into the back of my closet so I could ditch the penny loafers for soft shoes. And hats, skirts, flowing tops. I did it all, Mother. I even smoked pot.”
Esther laughed, “Oh my.”
Lorna looked at her. “If you saw me, you wouldn’t have recognized me.”
“So, why?”
“Because I related to artists, people who struggled. I saw how hard it was for them to make a living. They lived hand to mouth. Remember I asked you and Father to give some of your money to the Struggling Artists Coalition?”
She waved her hand, “Oh, I do. But to what end? Unless the artists went to school it seemed like a waste of money.”
“Mother, the reason I joined the Greater Cleveland Arts Council was to appropriate funding for serious artists. And by serious, I mean people who did get an education, people who could barely make ends meet because of school loans. And not only artists, but writers and musicians!
“But the council fought me on my ideas saying it would be too expensive to fund housing,” Lorna said. “And there weren’t enough people to recruit to research potential candidates. So, I decided to take matters into my own hands and start this.” She opened her arms to the rest of the property. “To give creative people a soft place to land and work at their chosen field.”
Esther regarded her daughter. “Well, I’ll be. A paradigm pioneer.”
Lorna waited a moment to see if her mother was kidding. When she saw that she wasn’t, Lorna said quietly, “Thank you.” An odd sensation washed through her soul. Her mother had just paid her a genuine compliment. Something that rarely occurred while growing up. “Really. Thank you, Mother.”
“You know, your father was very proud of your junior partner status and your graduating summa cum laude from his alma mater. You worked hard, Lorna; we both saw that. And I have to tell you I am sorry we did not see your … other side.”
Lorna had no words. She realized that her dominant persona—the one she maintained whilst growing up—was slowly fading. She hadn’t had to utilize it on her own turf. She said, “You know mother. The Lorna you see right now is the Lorna I’ve always wanted to be since I could remember.”
“And you couldn’t see yourself finding love with a man?”
Lorna shook her head. “No.”
They sat in silence for a while. “So, are your tenants also lesbian?”
“Yes.”
“Well, it doesn’t surprise me but how did you find them?”
“I advertised.”
“What, where? I mean—”
“In a newspaper called Lesbian Connection.”
“I see.”
Lorna looked around at her property. She loved the view from the tranquility of the garden. It kept her calm and focused.
“And are your tenants all artists?”
“Alice is an artist, Lindy is a graphic novelist, Mariella is a published writer, and PK is a musician.”
“I assume these women will be at the Thanksgiving dinner?”
“Yes, they will.”
“But what about their own families?”
“PK is not very close with her family, Alice doesn’t want to return up north, Lindy’s father is joining us, and Mari is just as happy to stay here for the holiday. We are starting to bond as a new kind of family.”
“Okay. And whose father is it that’s coming?”
“Lindy’s. His name is Horace Sutton. From Atlanta. Quite well off, as I understand it.”
“And what about her mother?”
“Died four years ago. Horace never remarried.”
“Is he my age, would you say?”
“Mother.”
“I’m just asking. I’d hate to be the only person here over fifty. Who else is coming?”
“Well, all of us, including Doreen. Steve Kent—he is a policeman for Heatherton County—and his girlfriend Jillian. Luis and Anita own a wonderful Mexican restaurant called El Mocambo in St. Augustine, and Cheenah Alvarez owns The Palms Motel up on route one just outside of St. Augustine. Anya, Luis, and Cheenah are related.”
“Sounds like a rather large group. Where are you going to put everyone?”
“We rented tables and chairs. They’ll be here tomorrow. We’re going to move all the furniture around in the lobby and use the front desk as a buffet table. It’ll be tight, but
we’re a cozy group.”
“One would have to think.”
Lorna waited for more questions. Instead, Esther heaved a loud sigh and stood up. “Well, I think we’ve covered several bases here. Perhaps a glass of wine is calling? How about we go get something to eat and drink and enjoy this beautiful weather?”
Lorna smiled for the first time since her mother’s arrival. “I think that would be lovely, Mother.”
Esther put her arm through Lorna’s as they walked back to the main building. “It’s going to take me a while to adjust to your life as it is now, Lorna. I hope you will understand that?”
“Of course.”
“I thank you for being direct and honest. It certainly clears the air, wouldn’t you say?”
“Yes, it does.”
Esther leaned in as if to tell her a secret, “You know, maybe there are things about me that you don’t know, either.”
Lorna felt a bit giddy. “Really?”
“Yes, really.”
“I’m intrigued, mother.”
Esther laughed. “Let’s go have that glass of wine.”
THIRTEEN
Dear Avril, November 29
Hi luv. I decided to write to you since we missed our phone call last week and will most probably miss it this week as well.
Wow. Where to start? Thanksgiving here at the motel was one for the books. Are you sitting down? My mother showed up three days before the holiday. Unannounced! I almost shit my knickers.
Then, as I am trying to recover from THAT, Doreen comes in through the kitchen door and calls for me with endearments like “honey” and “babe” because she had no idea Mother was here.
Well, as you can imagine, I had to tell Esther everything. She wasn’t surprised. But you KNOW how I am when I’m not prepared! I guess, though, it was supposed to be that way. I did NOT, however, tell her about the bone findings. She was genuinely impressed with the garden. Let’s leave it at that.
She invited herself to the Thanksgiving dinner I had planned for the tenants. I couldn’t say no, could I?
So, Lindy invited her father, a widower named Horace. Horace Sutton! Handsome devil—reminds me of a young David Niven (including the little moustache). Well-dressed with ascots and shiny loafers. My mother wore a stylish kaftan, and Horace wore a sport jacket to dinner while the rest of us dressed for overindulgence. It reminded me of my parents when they dressed for a casual dinner of forty.
Ladies of Pagodaville Page 8