She rubbed her eyes, gazed at her hands clasped tightly in her lap, then looked Olivia in the eye. “I don’t hide that I’m biracial, but I reject who I am every single day. I have all the privilege that comes with white skin, and by remaining silent, I’m rejecting the black part of me. Yet I don’t feel authentic saying I’m black because I don’t have to deal with any of the hate and fear and insults that dark-complexioned people face on a daily basis. And saying I’m black feels like I’m rejecting the white part of me.” She grabbed a tissue and dabbed at her eyes. “I’m half white and half black. What do I need to do so I’m not lying to the world and rejecting half of myself?”
Olivia nodded. “It’s difficult. You can’t change society or even other people. All you can do is learn to celebrate both sides of who you are. Have you talked to Gina yet?”
“She’s a senior officer at IBM so she travels a lot and I haven’t been able to get her to commit to a date. Next week, hopefully. I’ve thought a lot this week about our relationship, and it seems to me it wasn’t my being mixed race that was the problem. It was my white skin. She accepted that I was as black as I was white, but she was frustrated by my inability to understand her daily experience of life as a young black woman insulted and devalued by white society.”
“Hindsight is a wonderful thing, Renee. But the issue isn’t what you understand today, but what you felt at the time.”
Digging up these old feelings was too hard. Renee suppressed a moan and then caught herself. Isn’t that why she was in therapy? “At the time, while we were together, I felt rejected by her. It was as if my life experience didn’t count because of my skin color. And no matter what I did, I could never be black enough or poor enough for Gina, the black warrior.”
“Do I hear underlying anger?”
Renee sighed. “You asked what I felt at the time. I guess I was angry as well as hurt.”
Olivia let her sit with that thought before continuing. “And the two of you have never talked about this. Are you still angry?”
Renee didn’t have to dig deep on this. “Absolutely not.”
“Really?” Olivia raised her eyebrows. “Besides Gina, are any of the other Inner Circle members black?”
Renee flashed on Elle, the bronze-skinned model who must have been an African queen in another life, and Gina’s lover Beth. “Only Elle, Gina and Beth are in New York City. Oh, Erik and Joel, two guys new to the Inner Circle. Why?”
“Perhaps it would help you to have a group to talk to about race rather than to keep it, as I believe you do, locked up inside yourself.”
“I don’t know. Elle is with Tori, a white woman, and I’m not super close with the guys. I’d feel better talking to Gina alone, then maybe do a group thing later. I have to say, though, the idea of a group sitting around discussing my feelings about anything, especially being mixed race, makes me very nervous.”
Olivia raised her eyebrows and leaned forward, a signal she thought what she was about to say was important. “However you decide to do it, all together or one-on-one, as a general discussion or one about your experience, I believe you need to start talking about this issue with people you trust. People who live this and obviously know more about it than I do.”
Each time the race issue came up, Renee felt like a dog chasing its tail. There didn’t seem to be a solution. The last thing she wanted was to drag this out into the open and involve her friends. “I’ll think about it, okay?”
Olivia gazed at her a few seconds, then nodded. “So how are you and Constance getting along?”
Renee’s head shot up. “What do you mean?”
“It’s a simple question, Renee. You started the week saying you wanted to talk about her, then we got sidetracked into your feelings about being biracial, so I’m checking in to see whether there was something in particular about Constance that you wanted to discuss.”
“We went hiking last Saturday.” After hearing about the secret husband and two children she’d spent Sunday in a panic. “And Constance casually mentioned some things that I found upsetting.”
Renee dropped her gaze to her phone. Damn, not as late as she hoped. She raised her eyes.
“Don’t worry, we have plenty of time.” Olivia’s smile looked like a gotcha. But it could be she was projecting her feelings onto Olivia. She’d felt blindsided by Constance.
And, for some reason, the situation embarrassed her. Twice she’d opened herself to Constance in a way she hadn’t to anyone except Darcy and Gina and twice Constance hadn’t been totally honest with her. But this was what she paid Olivia for, so she accepted the inevitable and leaned back. “It had never entered my mind that she was married and had children. Did I mention she was Lady Constance Martindale when we were at Stanford? Remember I said she dumped me? She left Stanford and ran home to fulfill her family obligation…to marry a man, Nigel, a childhood friend and also the child of an Earl. On their honeymoon they discovered they were both gay and didn’t consummate the marriage. Then one night under the influence of alcohol they decided to see what heterosexual sex was like and Constance ended up pregnant. With twins. Being good people they decided they’d stay in their sexless but loving marriage until the girls were eighteen. But about seven months ago Nigel intervened to save a woman who was being raped and he was killed. So now it’s just her and her twin fourteen-year-old-daughters.”
Renee hesitated, hoping Olivia would react but no such luck. “The good news is she came out to her parents and moved to New York City to make a fresh start. She asked me if, knowing her history, I still want to see whether there’s anything worth exploring between us.” Did I? Is there? She gazed out the window, suddenly not sure.
Olivia’s voice brought her back into the room. “Where did you disappear to, Renee?”
Was Olivia responding to her body language or was the sudden onset of sadness visible? “I don’t…” Renee shrugged. “I told her I wanted to continue exploring, but I can’t get my mind around the fact that she chose him over me, and now she comes with two daughters. I haven’t seen her since Saturday. I haven’t called her. And I haven’t returned her calls. She apologized Saturday for not telling me sooner, but she was afraid I would run. I assured her I wouldn’t. But….”
“You’re running.” Olivia finished her thought for her. “And longing for Darcy.”
It took Renee a few seconds to realize what Olivia had said but she couldn’t hide her shock. “What? No.” She bit her lip. “Yes. How did you know? Not only has Darcy been on my mind every day since but I’ve also been dreaming about her.”
“Why, Renee? Do you know?” Olivia said, her voice gentle.
For some reason the caring in Olivia’s voice touched the sadness filling Renee. Fighting for control, she took a deep breath. “Sharing my thoughts and feelings, letting myself really care, scares me. I did it with Darcy and she left me. I did it with Gina and she left because she despised me. And, then I cared about Constance and she dumped me for a man. Why should I believe she’ll stay now? What if her daughters hate me? What if I disappoint her? What if I feel trapped? What if she realizes she’d rather be with a man?”
Olivia frowned. “Do I need to have my hearing checked? I could have sworn you told me you left Darcy, not just once, but over and over again for almost two years. Perhaps I also misheard when you said you and Gina agreed to separate. And, I could swear you said you were in the process of dumping Constance when she left.” She sipped her tea. “Oh, did I imagine that you told me Constance wasn’t into men?”
Renee stared at Olivia. Damn. Throwing her own words in her face wasn’t fair. “All right. I left them.” She didn’t try to keep the annoyance out of her voice. “But I’m really scared.”
Olivia repeated the question. “Why did Darcy suddenly become front and center for you again, Renee? Do you know?”
“Maybe Tori was right. I use Darcy to keep from committing myself, that I use her as a shield.”
Olivia let her sit in silence for a few
minutes. “What are you running from? You say you want what Darcy has with Andrea, and Tori has with, um, her wife. By your own account, you’ve been running since you found yourself deeply in love with Darcy. What’s the worst thing that could happen if you love someone and they love you?”
Renee sniffed. “They’ll leave me and I’ll be hurt and alone.”
“And so?” Olivia sipped her tea and watched Renee fight her tears.
Damn how does her tea stay hot for the whole hour? She took a deep breath. “And so I leave them before they can leave me. And I’m hurting and alone. Is that what you want?”
Olivia’s eyes widened, probably reacting to the anger in Renee’s voice. “I want the truth, Renee. And so should you. Think about this and let’s pick up here Monday.”
Renee stood. “Sorry for being crabby, Olivia.” She turned toward the door then stopped. “Should I see Constance over the weekend?”
Olivia put her tea down and stood. “Being crabby, as you put it, Renee, means you’re getting close to something painful. As for whether you should see Constance, only you know what you’re feeling.” She grinned. “Though I’d love to hear about what you decide on Monday.”
Chapter Twelve
Renee stared at the phone in her hand. She’d walked for an hour after her therapy this morning trying to figure out what she wanted. And what she wanted was to see Constance. She was relieved, though, when her secretary reminded her of her plans to take a client to La Boheme at the Metropolitan Opera that evening. But now that client was snowed in at the airport in Chicago and had just canceled, leaving her with an extra ticket. Did Constance enjoy opera? Was three o’clock too late to call?
It had been almost a week since their last contact and she was torn between her desire to see Constance and her dread of facing Constance’s anger. And, Constance would need time to get someone to stay with her daughters who, she’d confided, much to their chagrin, she refused to leave home alone. Maya was the safer bet for tonight. But not dealing with her feelings for Darcy had cost her a lot of years. Time to stop being a coward. Constance could say no and tell her to go fuck herself. But angry or not, she might say yes. What the hell?
She pictured Constance immersed in her painting and slowly becoming aware of her phone ringing. Ha. She had no idea when Constance painted or whether she forgot everything else when she did. Though she knew the young Constance, she only knew facts about the Constance of today, like she had a dead husband and two teenage daughters and had fled England and come to New York to live. Time to find out whether she liked opera. Time to find out whether she would forgive her for backsliding.
“Hello, Renee.” A good sign. Constance had answered despite seeing Renee’s name displayed on her phone. Her voice was low, tentative. “Nice to hear from you.”
She thought of a thousand ways to explain why she’d disappeared after Constance opened up to her, but she sounded so vulnerable only the truth would do. “I got scared. And, as you predicted, I ran. I’m sorry, Constance. I can’t promise it won’t happen again but I’m working hard on it.” Renee could hear Constance breathing into the phone while she was holding her own breath, waiting for the ax to fall.
Finally, Constance laughed. “I guess six days is an improvement over my disappearing for sixteen years.”
A smile splitting her face, Renee took in air. She flopped back in her desk chair and spun around to face the windows. “You mean to say that my being gone for six days didn’t feel like sixteen years to you?”
Constance laughed. “If I’m to be honest, it did in some ways. But since we’ve talked about things and since I know where to find you, it didn’t feel so…so final. I’m glad you called.”
Feeling ridiculously happy, Renee spun her chair. “Are you free tonight? I know it’s last minute but the client I was supposed to take to La Boheme is stuck in Chicago and I was hoping you could make it. That is, if you even like opera.”
“I do like opera and La Boheme is one of my favorites, even though it always makes me cry. I’d love to go. The girls are at a friend’s house doing homework and they’ve been invited to stay for dinner. Maybe they can have a sleepover. Let me check.”
Constance called three minutes later. “All set. I can meet you at Lincoln Center after I drop pajamas and a change of clothing off to the girls. What time is good?”
“Why don’t we meet at six o’clock for dinner at Boulud Sud. It’s right across the street from Lincoln Center and I already have a reservation.”
Constance hadn’t sounded angry but Renee was uneasy. She finally gave up on the report she was analyzing and left her office early. Hoping to calm herself, she walked to Sixty-Fourth Street and Broadway. She arrived ten minutes before their reservation and was seated immediately. She attempted to focus on the menu in front of her but couldn’t keep her eyes from the entrance. She must have blinked or dozed because Constance seemed to have appeared from out of nowhere. Though she wasn’t the most traditionally beautiful woman Renee had ever been with, Constance was the most striking. Motherhood, or perhaps age, had softened the once angular young body Renee had thought extremely sexy, to the voluptuous body of a woman. Constance had the carriage, confidence, and grace of a royal but none of the coldness or distance Renee associated with their stiff-upper-lip approach to life. Strolling through the restaurant, chatting with the maître d’ escorting her to their table, she seemed to glow from within. Renee was reminded again of why she was attracted to this strong, warm, and caring woman. Their eyes met. Constance smiled and Renee relaxed. Why had she doubted her? What you saw was what you got. No artifice. No games.
Renee hesitated, then hugged her. “Hi. I’m thrilled you could make it tonight. Please sit.” Renee cleared her throat. “Constance, I’m sor—”
“No apology necessary. I’m glad to be here with you. Let’s enjoy dinner and the opera. We’ll have plenty of time to talk about it later.” She picked up her menu. “I tend to forget about eating when I’m painting, so as usual, I’m starving.” She scanned the menu. “Everything looks delicious. Why don’t you order for both of us?”
“Sure.” Renee nodded at the waiter hovering nearby. “Bring us two glasses of the Yves Martin Sancerre.” She studied the appetizer and dinner options and when the waiter arrived with their wines she said, “To start, we’ll share the Sicilian Sardine Escabèche, the Octopus À La Plancha and the Arabic Lamb Flatbread. For dinner, we’ll split the Lemon Saffron Linguine and the Seared Maine Scallops.” Her gaze went to Constance. “Okay?”
Constance raised her glass. “Sounds delicious.” She sipped her wine. “So tell me about the woman I’m standing in for. Is she someone you date?”
“Definitely not a date.” She put her glass on the table. “She’s a client. The CEO of a fairly large company who likes to be wined and dined, so when she’s in New York, I take her out to dinner and to the theater or the opera. She’s a lesbian in a long-term relationship, and I consider her and her wife my friends. When I’m in Chicago, I take them both out and often have dinner with them at their home.”
“Sounds lovely. But I’m glad for the snow in Chicago so I get to spend the evening with you and I get to hear La Boheme.”
“I’m glad I get to be with you after being my usual cowardly self.”
“Stop apologizing and don’t be so hard on yourself. I dumped a lot of stuff on you with no warning. You’re not a coward. You and I are both dealing with some scary issues in therapy. Sometimes I feel like I’m on a roller coaster, but I stay on hoping there’s a prize at the end of the ride.” Constance waited for the waiter to arrange their appetizers. “So tell me about your work.”
“I’m the senior partner in Millford, Cooper and Anderson, Management Consulting. We identify and solve financial, personnel, technology, and procedural problems, mainly for large corporations. Mostly these days I manage the work of others but occasionally I get to go into the field.” As they ate, they shared stories and laughed a lot about the everyday comedy o
f life. They each finished with an espresso but neither had dessert. When the check arrived, Constance insisted on paying for the dinner since Renee had provided the tickets. Understanding Constance needed to be independent and in charge of her life, Renee didn’t fight her.
Caught up in the rush of people headed for an opera, a play, a concert, or a ballet in one of the Lincoln Center venues, they strode briskly across the street and up the few steps to the plaza. Constance gasped and grabbed Renee’s arm as the Metropolitan Opera House appeared in front of them. Renee really looked at it for the first time in a long time, trying to see what Constance was seeing. The five huge, glass-filled arches of the grand building seemed to glow. The gorgeous Marc Chagall murals filled an arch on either side of the building and framed the red-carpeted lobby, the crystal chandeliers, and the staircase leading into the house. It was truly breathtaking. “Thank you, Renee. I’ve seen pictures of this of course, but it’s even more fantastic in real life.”
They followed the crowd and filed into the entry. Renee handed over their tickets, Constance opened her bag for inspection, and they were directed to the orchestra section. Once they were settled in their center seats, surrounded by the low excited rumble of the audience, Constance remarked on the beauty of the hall and then studied the program for tonight’s performance. As the lights dimmed and the hanging crystal chandeliers slowly moved up to the ceiling, Constance gasped, and grabbed Renee’s arm. She along with many others in the audience was spellbound. Her eyes shining, she turned to Renee. “So beautiful.”
Ready for Love Page 10