Osmosis

by Susan X Meagher

  “Thanks. It’s the same color as yours, you know.”

  “It’s the same as mine used to be,” Anna Lisa corrected. “I’ve had to start dying mine.”

  “Really?” Mia turned around and looked carefully. “You can’t tell.”

  “For what those thieves charge me, you shouldn’t be able to tell. I don’t have a lot of gray, but I’m not giving in gracefully. I’m not going to be gray before Nonna is!”

  “She’s only sixty-five, Mom,” Mia teased.

  “Thank God she started lightening it up. She was starting to look like a vampire with that dark hair and pale skin.”

  “Who talked her into that?”

  “God knows. I’d never have the nerve.”

  “It cracks me up that you’re afraid to tell her something like that,” Mia said.

  “It’s not worth it, honey. There are some things you talk about, and some things you don’t. Uhm … that … uhm … that’s something I wanted to talk to you about.”

  “I won’t talk about Jordan,” Mia said, scowling. “That is what you were going to ask, right?”

  “I hate to make you feel bad, but it’s too soon. After you’ve been together for a while and know that you’re stable … then it’ll be easier.”

  “No, it won’t. She’ll still have a fit. But I’m not really in the mood to have her go nuclear on me, so I wasn’t gonna talk about Jordan anyway.”

  Anna Lisa leaned down and kissed her cheek. “You’re being so mature about all of this. You really are growing up.”

  “I am,” Mia agreed. “And part of the reason I’m growing up is because of Jordan. She helps me think things through. Something I haven’t always been good at,” she said, smiling.

  “I wish she were a man, but, for a woman, she seems like a good … What do you call her?”

  “You can call her my partner. I call her my luscious lesbian lover.”

  Anna Lisa put her hands around Mia’s throat and playfully choked her. “Forget what I said about being mature, you little devil!”

  “Help! Dad! Mom’s trying to kill me!”

  Brendan rang Ryan that evening. “Hi,” he said. “I think we need another pow-wow.”

  “How come?”

  “Everybody saw the building, and we all agree that it’s got potential. But it costs a lot more than we discussed, and it’s not a house. Knowing Jamie, she’s got something in mind, but we’re stumped.”

  “Huh.” Ryan looked at her partner, peacefully curled up on the sofa, reading a book. “You’re right. She’s always got a hidden agenda.”

  Jamie looked up and pointed at herself ostentatiously. Ryan wrinkled up her nose and nodded.

  Chuckling, Brendan said, “Wanna ask her, or should we just do as she says?”

  “It’s easier if you just do as she says.” Jamie nodded energetically. “But we should probably chat. How about tomorrow night? We’re planning on coming home for dinner.”

  “Okay. I’ll set up a poker game. That’ll attract a crowd.”

  “Sounds good. Will I see you and Maggie at dinner?”

  “Don’t think so. She’s got a cocktail party for work that she’s dragging me to. We’ll probably have dinner with some of her co-workers.”

  “Sounds like fun,” Ryan teased, knowing he hated to socialize with strangers.

  “Yeah. Being in love stinks sometimes, but it’s worth it in the long run.” He laughed softly. “At least that’s what I keep telling myself.”

  On Saturday evening, Conor pressed the bell at Catherine’s Pacific Heights home. Marta answered the door, and being the professional she was, she welcomed him by name. “Won’t you have a seat?” she said, indicating the living room. “Catherine will be down in a few minutes. What can I get you to drink?”

  “You don’t need to go to any trouble for me, Marta. I’m fine.”

  “I’d enjoy making you a drink. I’m a good bartender.” Her dark eyes were twinkling and Conor found himself unable to resist her offer. “Okay. Just a little whiskey and water.”

  She nodded and went to a bar hidden in an antique armoire. After naming six brands of whiskey and two kinds of bottled water, Conor made his choices, hoping he didn’t have to specify a type of ice. Marta handed him the drink and put out a coaster, then left the room. Conor wished she would have stayed and chatted, but he assumed that wasn’t done.

  Catherine appeared relatively soon and he stood to greet her. “As usual … you look fantastic,” he said. He studied her, looking at her hair, her jewelry, her clothing and her shoes. “Flawless. Just flawless.”

  Laughing softly, Catherine said, “Your sister does the same thing. She looks me over like she’s my dresser. Did you two learn that from your father?”

  “Ha! You’ve gotta be kidding! Da tells every woman she looks nice. He’s completely untrustworthy.”

  “I’ll have to remember that.”

  “Don’t trust Rory or Brendan either. They don’t have a clue.”

  “You’re always a surprise,” Catherine said. “And may I sincerely tell you that you look fabulous in your suit. That’s a very nice tie,” she said admiring the navy blue background with multi-colored dots.

  “Thanks. I wanted something to give the suit some pop. Polka dots won’t be stylish for long, but they’re in right now.”

  “You really do care about how you look, don’t you?”

  Conor smiled. “Sure. I get so dirty at work that I love to get cleaned up.”

  “You certainly don’t look like your average carpenter.”

  “It’s harder for me than for a guy who sits at a desk. I have to get a manicure to get the grime from my fingernails, and I need a facial every few weeks to get the dirt out of my pores.”

  Catherine blinked. “You go to a salon?”

  “Yeah. Unless I’m dating someone. I had a girlfriend for a long time and she used to love to give me facials and things like that. She said I was the only guy she’d ever gotten to play with like that.”

  “I … I’d guess so. I’ve certainly never done that for a man.”

  “I don’t think I’d do it if I lived in Moose Nose, Minnesota,” he admitted. “But there are guy-only spas here. And not everybody who goes is gay.” He paused and added, “Only 95% or so.”

  Catherine laughed. “You’re full of as many contradictions as your sister. You two are most definitely interesting companions.”

  “Then let’s go. Your car or mine?”

  “Mine, if you don’t mind. Will you drive?” Catherine held out the keys.

  “Twist my arm!”

  The event was being held at Davies Symphony Hall, a place Conor had never entered. But he conducted himself well, managing to be at Catherine’s side when she looked for him and absent when she was having a serious conversation. He made a little small talk on his own, but primarily acted as a very proper, discreet companion.

  Waiters carried hot and cold appetizers on trays, and Conor had a few of each, not wanting to appear too ravenous. He also didn’t want to risk dripping on his new tie, which had cost him a day’s labor. Waiters also circulated with flutes of champagne, and he availed himself of two of those. A large table in the corner held various kinds of cheese and later in the evening a second table was revealed; this one filled with tiers of desserts.

  “Would you like something sweet?” Catherine asked.

  “Uhm … is there … more food? Real food?”

  Her eyes widened. “Didn’t you have enough canapés?”

  “No, not if that’s all we get.”

  He looked so disappointed that she nearly laughed. “Oh, Conor, I’m sorry I didn’t make it clear that this wasn’t a formal dinner. The hall isn’t big enough to seat all of these people, so they just serve heavy hors d’oeuvres.”

  “Those were heavy? A piece of mango stuck to a shrimp isn’t heavy … it’s light … it’s ultra-light.”

  “Did you have some of that Kobe beef?”

  “Yes, but it was cut with a p
lane. Wood shavings are thicker than that. I’m gonna have to stand at that dessert table and make some sparks fly.”

  He grinned at Catherine, but she could see that he was serious. “You don’t have much of a sweet tooth, do you?”

  “No, not really. I like pie and a chocolate malt once in a while, but I’m an entrée kinda guy.”

  “Then we’ll go get you an entrée.” She started to walk away, but Conor touched her arm.

  “No, we don’t have to leave. I can stop and get a burger on my way home. You need to be here.”

  “I’ve spoken to everyone,” she said. “I’ve done my duty and we can go … unless you’re not ready.”

  “Oh, I could probably force myself to take off. Especially since there’s no dancing. I had my eye on that woman over there who’s tapping her foot to the music.”

  Catherine looked over and saw a woman who was likely a nonagenarian, tapping her foot and shifting her shoulders while her ancient husband leaned against a wall to avoid falling over.

  “Her husband doesn’t look like he can lead her around the dance floor any more. I bet she misses dancing.”

  He looked entirely serious, and Catherine once again marveled at the playful/serious, thoughtful/impetuous O’Flaherty clan.

  A short time later they were ensconced at a small table at an equally small bistro in Pacific Heights. Conor eyed the menu, finally deciding on a steak and fries, which Catherine recommended as fantastic. After their order was taken, they sipped at their cocktails, and Conor regarded Catherine for a moment. “You seem much happier than you were a month ago.”

  “Mmm …” She swallowed and considered his comment. “I am. I don’t feel as lonely, and that’s always a plus. And I …” She thought just a few seconds before she decided to be honest with him. “I feel desirable again.”

  “The guy who showed up at your house during the party?”

  “Why … yes. Was it that obvious?”

  “No, no.” He shook his head decisively. “But he didn’t look like an old family friend. Jamie didn’t know him, so … I just guessed.”

  She colored slightly. “I don’t know why I’m a little embarrassed to have Giacomo in my life.” She shifted in her seat. “Yes, I do. He’s married.”

  “Ooo … unhappily?”

  “No, on the contrary. He’s happily married, but both he and his wife have outside … interests.”

  Conor’s blue eyes widened. “Now that’s a marriage I could get into!”

  “I couldn’t,” she said immediately. “And that’s one of my problems. I put myself in his wife’s position and know how much I’d hate having my husband being intimate with another woman.” She didn’t reveal she’d been in such a position many times, her decision to keep her marital troubles private holding firm. “I hate doing something to a woman that I’d hate to have done to me.”

  “But she doesn’t hate it? You know that?”

  “Do I know that?” She frowned. “I know that’s what Giacomo has told me from the beginning. He says she has a lover … the same person for many years.”

  “Maybe you’d feel better if you talked to her. If she really doesn’t care …”

  “Giacomo has offered,” she said. “They’ve always kept things an open secret, but he told her about me and asked if she’d talk to me.”

  “Then he must be telling the truth. That’s a whopper to get out of if you’re bluffing.”

  “I don’t think he’s the type to lie. I really don’t.”

  “You’re sure he’s on … the up and up? He’s trustworthy?” Conor didn’t have the heart to ask if Giacomo could be after Catherine’s money, and he hoped she’d see behind his question.

  “Yes. I’m sure of that. He doesn’t need anything from me. He has children, a wife much younger than me, money, connections. There’s not a reason in the world he cares for me—except me.”

  “Like that’s not enough!”

  She reached out and rubbed the back of his hand. “You’re so good for my ego.”

  “Your ego isn’t big enough. Neither is your appetite.” Their server set his steak and her six oysters on the table. Conor looked at the heaping mound of ultra-thin, crispy fries on his plate and said, “I won’t rest until you help me finish these off.”

  She grinned at him and snagged one, blowing on it to cool it. Taking a delicate bite, she closed her eyes for a moment then said, “Divine. The worse food is for you, the better it tastes.”

  That’s true for men, too, Conor thought, hoping that such wasn’t the case with Giacomo.

  They almost finished the fries, but Conor had to take care of two of Catherine’s oysters. “How can you not have room for two oysters?” he asked, patting his mouth clean. “I could have two dozen as a light appetizer.”

  She laughed at his use of the term. “How many for a heavy one?”

  “One of those numbers Ryan talks about. The ones so big they have to guess at how many zeroes there are.”

  “Your sister has been such a wonderful addition to our family, Conor. I hope you all know how much I love her.”

  “I do. She does too. Believe me, we wouldn’t ask you over all the time if you weren’t nice to her. You don’t see Jim dropping by when he’s in town, do you?”

  “No, I suppose I don’t. But he’s coming around.”

  “I like him. But he could cure cancer and Da wouldn’t … throw water on him if he were on fire.” He’d barely caught himself before he’d said “piss.” “He doesn’t forgive or forget, especially where my little sister is concerned.”

  “But he’s always been polite.”

  “Oh, sure, he’s polite. But it’s a very chilly polite.” He chuckled, his expression adorably demonic to Catherine’s eyes.

  “How about you, Conor? Anyone special in your life?”

  “No. But I wouldn’t mind finding someone. I’m ready to settle down a little.”

  “It shouldn’t be hard for you to find a nice woman. I’d guess you could have your pick.”

  “No, that’s not true.” He didn’t feel comfortable talking about Mia, so he just smiled. “Uhm … are you … exclusive with Giacomo?”

  “Hmm. Good question.” She tilted her head and thought for a moment. “I thought I wanted to meet a man and either get married or have another marriage-like relationship. But now I’m not so sure.”

  “Really? Why?”

  “Oh, I think it’s hard to find love. I certainly don’t know anyone I’d like to date, and I probably know everyone in my economic class in San Francisco. At least people in my age range. I’m sure there are a lot of young men I don’t know.”

  “That can’t be your only reason to give up on marriage.” His expression showed just how little he believed her.

  “No, I suppose not. The real reason is that I’m at the age where all of the men have been married once or twice or three times.” She smiled wryly. “I don’t really want to have step-children or vengeful ex-wives or all of the turmoil that entails. Having a … whatever Giacomo is to me … is easy. I know where I stand, I know what he wants, and I know neither of us expects anything to change. That makes things … tidy.”

  He gazed at her for a few moments, looking into her eyes. “Is that enough?”

  “It is for now.” She took a long sip of water, but Conor’s eyes were still trained on her when she looked up. “But I’d like more. Maybe not now, but one day I’d like to have someone I don’t have to share.”

  “How often do you see each other?”

  “Not very often. He lives in Milan.”

  “Full time?”

  “Sadly, yes. It certainly increases the price of a date. Luckily, I can afford it.”

  Conor waited patiently while Catherine opened the door of her home. It was late, so he assumed he’d just walk her to the door. But she turned and said, “Come in, if you’re not too tired.”

  He checked his watch. “It’s almost midnight ...”

  “Oh, you don’t have to come i
n. I just wanted to see how you felt about tonight.”

  “Felt?” He looked puzzled. “I had fun. Is that what you mean?”

  “Yes. I … I’d love to ask you to some other events, but I want to make sure you’d really enjoy yourself.”

  “Catherine, if I hadn’t gone with you tonight I’d either be at a pub with my cousins or playing cards, or lying on my bed watching TV. My life isn’t very exciting. Hanging out with you shows me a whole new world. One I like, a lot!”

  She smiled at his exuberance. “What do you like about it?”

  “I like getting dressed up and going places I’ve never been. It’s kinda like getting a day pass to a really cool club that you could never join.”

  Puzzled, she asked, “Are you certain? Because there are other people I could go with. You just seemed to enjoy going to the opera benefit …”

  “I’m positive. Really. I’ll go any time you need an escort. But I wish you would have let me pay for dinner. You really didn’t have to buy.”

  “It’s my fault you left the party hungry. Next time I’ll warn you if we’re not going to get a proper dinner.”

  “Cool. I hope next time is soon.”

  “How about next Friday? I’m going to a cocktail party at Stanford Law to raise funds for scholarships. It’s just cocktails, so we can have dinner afterward—my treat.”

  He pursed his lips, scowling slightly. “Only if I pay.”

  “We’ll have dinner at my house.” She playfully stuck her tongue out at him. “No charge.”

  He didn’t think it appropriate to reply with his usual, “Don’t stick that out if you’re not gonna use it,” so he just smiled at her. “Next Friday it is. When and where do you want me?”

  Looking glum, Mia walked downstairs on Saturday night. Noting her lethargic shuffle, Jamie asked, “What’s up?”

  “Jordy finally found an Internet café in Russia. Bad news. They’re getting hammered.”