I had been in this house a couple of times when crazy Susan lived here, but I don’t remember if I have been upstairs. It looks like the usual layout. Did he say he was putting the gift in his bedroom? I think that one at the end of the hall is the master suite. Or would he put jackets and stuff like that in a guest room? I tiptoe down the other end of the hall, even though there isn’t a soul up here. As I get to what I think could be the guest room door, I hear voices. My heart starts beating fast—I don’t want to get caught snooping. I’m not, but it looks that way.
My inner dialogue is interrupted by a moaning sound. I jump and brush against the door just enough to see that it isn’t closed all the way. I peek in and all I see is a pile of coats, and there’s the present on the floor. I must have imagined the noise. Does he have a cat? I begin to tiptoe into the room to grab the package, when all of a sudden a naked woman sits up and starts screaming—I hope in pleasure. I jump back behind the door and peek again. I see hands tied to the bed with—what is that? Ties? Scarves? What the hell is going on? This is not a typical suburban cul-de-sac party.
I glance around the corner again and duck out. My heart is pounding now and I realize I dropped my damn phone. I get down on the ground and stick my hand back in, fumbling around for the phone on the ground. It couldn’t have gone too far—it doesn’t have legs. I grab it just in time to hear—
“Claire?”
I jump up and smack my head on the door, which somehow slams it shut. There’s not a peep of recognition from the busy occupants inside. “Brandon, hi. I was just coming up here to check my messages. It’s so loud downstairs and this was the only quiet place, but I think I’ll go out on the porch—”
More screaming and moaning from behind the door. I rub my battered skull—this is becoming a perpetual injury.
He looks at my head, but points to the bedroom—“Is there someone in there?”
“I don’t know. Maybe it’s the cat?”
“I don’t have a cat.”
“Bianca said you guys were getting ready to play Guitar Hero. Are you going to sing?” I start towards the stairs, followed by a bewildered Brandon. He looks back at the bedroom again, but shrugs his shoulders and follows me down the stairs.
Once we get to the kitchen, we are pulled aside by Bianca and her friends. They were looking for Brandon to get the game of Guitar Hero started. Bianca looks at both of us as if she’s wondering why we were both missing at the same time. She smiles and squeezes my arm.
I have zero familiarity with Guitar Hero, but I follow the crowd back down to the basement. They’re all into it, taking turns playing the drums, bass and guitar on the pretend instruments. I’m enjoying it, and watching the scrolling notes on the TV screen is mesmerizing. Brandon does some singing, and even though this isn’t the best quality set up to showcase his voice, he’s good.
The music is getting loud and the crowd is starting to thin a bit. Most of the neighbors are going home. They are a “come early and leave early” crowd, anxious to relieve their babysitters and get some sleep before their little ones wake up tomorrow, wanting cartoons and pancakes.
As Jane and some of the other neighbors come over to say good night, I remember Nathan’s call. Plus I need to escape before someone asks me to sing. I do not sing in front of anyone. Ever.
I say good night to everyone and duck out to the front porch to listen to my message from the dreamy Dr. Kleinman.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
I replay the voice mail about five or six times. Nathan wants me to meet him downtown for brunch at eleven. I am a bit surprised that he doesn’t want to come pick me up, but he does live downtown so why would he drive all this way? He also called pretty late—maybe he’s on another date? It’s foolish and naive for me to assume he isn’t dating other women. I think Bianca is wrong about the hard cider—my head is starting to hurt. Oh that’s right, I banged it on the bedroom door.
“Hey, it’s getting cold out here. You missed everyone singing happy birthday. It was epic.” He smiles and then looks concerned when I don’t smile back.
“I didn’t know you were doing that. I’m sorry, and you didn’t open your present.” I stand up and Brandon motions for me to sit back down.
“Don’t worry about it. Everyone is so drunk they could barely get the words out.” He smiles again. “Do you need anything? Did you have a good time?” He quickly adds, “Not that I’m saying it’s time to go.”
“I’m fine, but it probably is time to go.” People have been filing past me, but I’ve been in my own little world. I wonder which couple was “tied up” in the guest room.
“You don’t have to go. Why don’t you stay and we can talk a bit after everyone leaves? I was going to do a little cleaning up tonight and then leave the rest for the morning. I’m beat. I think Bianca and a couple of the other girls are in there doing some now.”
I should go home and get some proper rest so I don’t have bags under my eyes at brunch, but I don’t feel like being alone yet. “I should help Bianca and the others. I’m so lazy.” I manage a grin and walk past Brandon into the house. I am freezing and it feels good to absorb some warmth. I feel Brandon’s body heat close behind me and I jump. I have stopped walking and I’m gazing at the pictures on the hall table again. I want to hear his story, but that is just professional curiosity—I like the book and the adoption thing is interesting. That’s all. I have a date with Nathan and he doesn’t want children. Uncomplicated, charming Dr. Nathan.
Brandon pauses and gives me time to look, but feeling his presence snaps me out of my trance, and we continue to the kitchen. Bianca and her friends are finishing up the worst of it.
“I’m sorry I got distracted and didn’t help you guys,” I offer.
“No worries. We’ve got it under control. We’ve done this a time or two. Brandon’s parties are legendary. This one was a little tamer with the neighbors here and all.” She looks at me and adds, “But not you. You’re not a mommy like all the others here tonight, right?”
My eyes dart around the room. “So is there anything I can do?” I am looking for a task to divert the conversation.
Max comes upstairs and starts teasing Bianca and the other girls again. He sees me and says, “I knew you had to be here. You wouldn’t go home without saying goodbye and I didn’t think Brandon was going to let you go so easily.” He smiles at Brandon.
“Are you sober enough to drive, big guy? Or do you need to crash here tonight?”
Bianca jumps in. “I’ll drive him home. We don’t want to get in the way. Right, Max?” She gives him a look of warning. If I didn’t know their situation, I would swear they were married. Too bad he can’t get a better apartment, she’s good for him.
We all say good night, and Brandon and I are left standing in the kitchen. He leans on the counter and says, “So did you want to go back downstairs and hang out?”
“I really like the front porch.” I quickly respond.
“I just thought you were cold. I know, you go out and I’ll bring you something in a minute.”
He pushes me out the front door, and emerges a few minutes later with a mug of hot chocolate and an afghan.
“Here, I hope you don’t mind this microwaved, and my mother sent this for my birthday. She likes to knit, but seriously I don’t use stuff like this. It’s good for a cold little chick.”
I peer at him and he continues. “I don’t mean that you’re cold, like emotionally. I mean in the temperature sense.” He breaks my gaze and looks up at the sky. “Look at how many stars are out tonight?” Brandon sits back in the other rocker and pulls a sweater over his head. It’s just like the one I got him, only green. I should remind him to open my gift, but I want to talk about other things, and it’s getting late.
“Thanks for inviting me tonight. It was fun. I like your friends.” I pull the afghan tighter around my shoulders and take a baby sip of the boiling hot chocolate. I don’t want to have to kiss Nathan tomorrow with a burned tongue.
>
“I hope they weren’t too much.”
“No, they’re nice people. It gave me a much better idea of who you are. I mean as a writer.” I look up at the sky and say, “Yes, the stars are beautiful.”
Brandon begins to give me the lecture on astronomy that most men seem to enjoy delivering. I don’t know the Big Dipper from a wood chipper. Cassio who? We talk about the band and he tells me that they have been playing together since he was in college, but have only gotten more serious in the past few years. The conversation fades into companionable silence after a while. We are running out of small talk, dancing around the bigger issues on our minds. And maybe in our hearts, too.
“So you want to know about little orphan Brandon?” Finally.
“Yes, I’d like to know what happened. So the book is fictionalized reality?”
“My birth mother was sixteen when I was born. She came from a good family, but her parents were adamant that she should not raise a child. She dreamed of being a singer—apparently she was an amazing talent. They didn’t want her to give up her dreams for a baby.”
“That’s where you got your voice. Did you always know you were adopted?” I lean forward and put the hot chocolate on the table.
“Yeah, my parents wanted me to know the truth. They had been married about ten years, couldn’t have kids. Typical story. My mom had some problems. They adopted me, and then my sister a few years later, both as infants. They met my birth mother, but they didn’t have much contact with her, and that’s all they knew about her situation. My sister’s birth mother wasn’t quite as well off as mine, and Colleen had some early developmental problems. But she’s great now. She’s a museum curator in DC.”
I want to know why his mother couldn’t have children, but that seems like prying. “Have you found your birth mother?”
He leans forward, looking into his mug of hot chocolate, avoiding eye contact. “No. I would like to, but all adopted kids will tell you that it’s not easy, emotionally or logistically. I know her name and where she lived back then, but that’s all. That’s why my book is about open adoption. I think that’s what people should strive to do—for the child’s sake.” He looks up and waits for my response. “What? You think that’s bad?”
“I just, well…I could never adopt a baby and let the birth mother in its life. I would be too afraid. What if she had wanted you back? Your parents would have been devastated.”
“That’s true, but that sort of thing hardly ever happens. I want to raise awareness for this issue with my book.”
I take another gulp of hot chocolate and swallow hard.
“Claire, I need to ask you something. How come you didn’t have any children? You were married a while, right? You seem to really like kids. I see you with some of the neighbor kids, like that little Emma who wears the dance costume all the time. I saw her showing you her new shoes and giggling with you the other day. You seem close with Jane’s kids, especially Shannon, the gecko wielding menace.” I smile at that memory and I feel my cheeks getting red. When I don’t respond right away, he adds, “I’m sorry, I know that’s a personal question.”
I sigh heavily and take a deep breath. There’s no reason not to tell him. I’ve told Nathan and he’s the one I’m dating. Brandon is just a friend, and he’ll understand if his mother went through it. “I had several miscarriages in my early thirties and I was forced to have a hysterectomy. Then I got divorced.”
“I’m sorry, Claire. Something similar happened to my mom, and it almost ruined my parents’ marriage. Did your husband leave because of that?”
“No, I wanted the divorce, and he graciously agreed to move out.” I shake my head and continue. “He handled the whole situation poorly. He told me to get over my loss and it was no big deal—“not everyone has kids, Claire.” He just didn’t want it like I did. But that’s over now.”
“There are other ways. You could adopt. You’re still young.”
A sad laugh escapes my mouth.
“What? You are young. My parents were in their early forties when they adopted me and Colleen. What’s stopping you?”
“For one I don’t have a husband, and most men want their own children or they already have them.” I think of Nathan. “Or they don’t want them, and that is the best case scenario for me. I met a new guy last night. Finally an age appropriate man who is not a father, and doesn’t want to be one.”
“I’m confused. I thought you wanted to be a mother?”
“I did, Brandon. Desperately. But now this is for the best. I have Dixie and my career. My friends. Hopefully I will end up married again to someone who can accept my limitations.”
Brandon stares at me for a moment longer than is comfortable and sits back in his chair. “I’m happy for you. I hope it works out.”
“Thanks. I really should be going. I have a brunch date tomorrow and I need to get some rest.” I stand up and pull off the afghan. “I had a great time, Brandon. Thanks, and happy birthday.”
Brandon rises and takes the afghan from me. “Brunch, huh? Sounds fun. I won’t keep you, then.” He runs his fingers through his hair and sighs. As I turn to walk down the steps, he says, “Hey, Claire?”
I turn and face sad eyes and a downtrodden expression. He looks like a little boy holding the afghan to his chest. “You don’t have limitations.”
My heart jumps and I respond quietly. “Thanks. Good night, Brandon.”
When I reach the safety of my house I think of the sweater wrapped up in the box in the guest room. I could have said “Hey, let’s go open your present,” but after everything I told him tonight, Brandon and his bedroom are permanently off limits.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
I wake up feeling much more level headed, and excited about my date with Nathan. We’re meeting at the Stardust Café. It isn’t quite as pretty as it sounds, but it’s located in an area of the city with lots of old row houses with lovely accents, such as wrought iron front porch railings and window boxes with bright flowers. The tree lined sidewalks are a favorite with joggers and dog walkers, and the neighborhood feels alive with people running into friends on the street corners with their steaming freshly brewed lattes in hand.
Nathan lives in this neighborhood and I’m surprised he didn’t suggest meeting at his house first. Men often take advantage of that opportunity so the woman has to return to his place for her car. On second thought, Nathan is too good for those cheap ploys.
Last night is becoming a distant memory as I circle the block looking for an easy spot to pull into. Even though my car is small, I suck at parallel parking! Actually that isn’t even accurate—you need to be able to do something, at least a little bit, to suck at it. To say I suck at parallel parking is like saying I suck at speaking Chinese.
I sigh as I circle the block for the second time. Once again I left Brandon with some awkward unfinished business. Why does this keep happening? It was a perfectly pleasant party, and I had to get all stressed out over a picture and a few comments. I should have gone home when everyone else did, but my curiosity was too persistent. If I hadn’t been so nosy I could have avoided the whole uncomfortable conversation.
I finally locate a spot where I can park my car by just pulling in. Maybe the people on this block are all at church. This must be the holy block. I glance in the mirror one last time to see if my eyeliner is even and my lipstick is still perfect. I am hoping it gets ruined today, but for now I want it to be flawless. I tried on three different shades, trying to find one that complements the color green I’m wearing. I opted for a shade in the peach family. Bright and flirty, but not too over the top. This little bright emerald dress is lycra, with an empire waist, so I don’t have to suck in my stomach if I eat too much at brunch. It has a swirly black and white pattern on the flouncy skirt.
Satisfied as I am going to be with my appearance, I step out onto the sidewalk, and look down at my sensible shoes. Black peep toe sandals with white piping. Two inch wedge. Summery, yet not beachwear.
I scan the area to see if Nathan is here and watching me, but this isn’t an Internet date, and therefore I don’t need to be overly concerned about my “spot them before they spot me” rule. I can also guarantee Nathan will not be wearing a stupid hat and his hair will stay firmly rooted to his scalp.
I enter the restaurant and again begin looking for him when I feel a presence behind me, breathing down my neck.
“Hey.” I nearly jump out of skin until I realize the guy standing behind me with his hands resting gently on my hips is Nathan.
I turn around abruptly and in mock anger say, “That’s a good way to get my heart rate up. Trying to drum up business?”
He leans down and whispers in my ear, “I don’t think a little thing like you has anything to worry about on the heart attack front, but I certainly intend to continue to raise your heart rate every chance I get.”
His plan is working so far because I feel like I am going to throw up my heart. Nathan is intense, but I like it!
The hostess leads us through the crowded dining room, past the bountiful display of food. They do a brunch buffet, as well as a full menu. The food is awesome, but looking at it now is not rousing my appetite. I should have eaten something, like a banana, to settle my stomach so I wouldn’t feel so yucky. We arrive at a cheerful table by the window. As Nathan pulls out my chair, I notice him slip the hostess something while I’m sitting down. Did he tip her for this fantastic table?
“I hope you like sitting by the window. I love to watch the activity in this neighborhood.” Nathan snaps his cloth napkin open and drapes it across his lap. He is wearing navy twill pants and a striped polo shirt. I bet this is a golf outfit. His dark hair is combed back and looks sleek, like Dixie’s fur after a bath. I smile at my comparison and Nathan smiles in return, taking this as a sign of my approval of our seating arrangement. Before I can tell him it’s perfect, he continues. “I love living in this neighborhood. Have you ever considered living in the city, Claire?”
There Are No Men Page 21