Getting Back

by Cindy Rizzo

  “C’mon, girl, let’s get back to civilization. I think you might need something stronger than a cappuccino.”

  Chapter 7

  June 2008

  Just as Elizabeth had hoped, the violent storm in the fourth movement of Beethoven’s Pastoral was raging as the sign for Fowler College came into view. Reese turned into the main drive and headed toward the alumni center where most of the festivities would be held.

  “I need to show my face here before we check in at the hotel,” she told Elizabeth.

  “That’s fine. I’m hoping to see Margaret. She called when she landed last night and said she’d be waiting.”

  Reese clicked the radio off just as the symphony progressed into the final movement with its peaceful resolution.

  The new alumni center echoed the dark red brick neo-Georgian style of the campus’s main quadrangle, though modernized with environmentally sustainable materials and heating and cooling systems. Elizabeth had served on the alumni building committee and had donated one hundred thousand dollars to the campaign, a sizable amount, but not as much as Constance Elliott, class of 1959 and chair of the board of trustees, whose five-million-dollar gift had earned her the naming rights. Still, Elizabeth felt a certain amount of ownership of the center, having argued successfully for a design that would balance the traditional exterior image of a Fowler building with an interior in which younger alumni, citizens of the twenty-first century, could take pride.

  The front door opened into a wide, high-ceilinged common room that evoked a large parlor or study. Thick-cushioned couches and armchairs were arranged on large, Oriental rugs in red tones that partially covered the light wood flooring. The walls were either lined with built-in walnut bookcases or adorned with class photographs going back to the nineteenth century. There were tall ficus trees in the corners and blue vases with multicolored fresh flowers sitting on walnut tables scattered throughout.

  The room was already crowded with women, some from her class and some—both younger and older—from other classes celebrating milestone reunions. Elizabeth was no more than five steps inside when she was greeted by Constance Elliott, now in her late seventies but still traveling the globe with her husband most of the year. As they hugged, the crowd around them grew and Elizabeth said warm hellos to other trustees and alumni relations staff. Reese was off attending to her business as a volunteer. Between hugs, Elizabeth scanned the room for Margaret but couldn’t spot her.

  As she stood chatting with two of the other trustees, she heard Constance call out.

  “President Parrish, come say hello to Elizabeth.”

  She looked to her left and saw Joanna Parrish—tall, elegant, with her hair swept up and brown dress under a beige linen jacket. Joanna had come to Fowler only two years ago after serving as provost at Chapman Hill College. She was Fowler’s first African-American president.

  Elizabeth’s smile quickly faded as she noticed the woman coming toward her with Joanna. It was Ruth.

  “Hello, Elizabeth,” said Joanna, as she leaned down for a quick hug. “I think you remember Ruth Abramson, or Judge Abramson, I should say. Can you believe that this is her first time back at Fowler since graduation?”

  Elizabeth could feel her chest tighten as she turned to finally face Ruth, whose handsome, distinguished presence wasn’t exactly a surprise. Elizabeth had been following her in the press for years. She’d recorded Ruth’s entire confirmation hearing on C-SPAN and had watched it more than once. Every article on a trial in her courtroom, coverage of every speech delivered to a bar association or Jewish organization, all had been either carefully cut out from the newspaper or printed off the Internet and inserted into the scrapbook. But now, right in front of her was no posed photograph or rehearsed interview. This was just them standing inches apart in the same space after thirty-one years.

  Ruth’s expression was filled with what Elizabeth could only describe as wonder. Her mouth was partially open, her eyes wide.

  “Elizabeth,” she whispered.

  Elizabeth instantly regretted not checking into the hotel first to pull herself together after the long car ride. She was certain she looked old and haggard. She stood still, gazing at the same face she had turned away from at the train station in Philadelphia. The same one that she’d last seen kissing Bennett Miller in Brooklyn. Ruth’s skin was still pale, her eyes still dark and captivating. But her hair no longer fell onto her shoulders and down her back.

  “You cut your hair,” she said, her words tumbling out as if she were in a trance. What a stupid thing to say. She had dozens of recent photos of Ruth with short hair in the scrapbook. Her first words to Ruth weren’t filled with cold indifference or burning anger, they were merely inane and puzzling.

  “Yes, some time ago.”

  It felt as if they were the only two people in the room; everyone else faded into the background. The scene from West Side Story when Tony and Maria first see one another at the dance came to mind. She quickly blinked it away.

  “I take five minutes to use the powder room and this is what I come back to.” It was Margaret standing almost between them with one hand on each of their arms. Elizabeth felt her surroundings come back into focus.

  “Hello, sweetheart,” Margaret whispered in her ear. “I’m here now.”

  As always, she looked exquisite with her beautiful auburn hair cut right above her shoulders in that messy curly style that was all the rage among women in Hollywood.

  “Ruth Abramson, or do I now have to say “Your Honor”?” Margaret smiled broadly at Ruth, threw her arms wide open, and hugged her. “First, you arrive at Fowler thirty years ago as a famous Russian émigré and now you top that by becoming a federal judge.”

  Looking a little taken aback, Ruth mumbled hello and offered a momentary smile.

  Elizabeth felt someone touch her shoulder and heard her name. It was Reese. She cleared her throat and introduced Reese to both Margaret and Ruth.

  “Reese is not only a Fowler alum, she is also one of my senior editors at the company.”

  “As if those are mutually exclusive,” said Margaret, who eyed the younger woman as if she were on that night’s dinner menu. Reese beamed back at her.

  Oh no, thought Elizabeth. She’d have to warn Reese away from Margaret. It somehow felt unseemly to allow such a thing to occur. An emotion she didn’t recognize came over her. Was it possible that Reese brought out some long-hidden maternal feelings? Well, whatever it was, the thought of her with Margaret just seemed the height of wrong.

  “Judge Abramson, I thought you might like to take a walk around campus and see how things have changed since you were last here.”

  It was one of the alumni relations staff, probably assigned to be her handler. Ruth still had that deer in the headlights look that had appeared when Margaret interrupted them.

  “Elizabeth,” she said with some urgency in her voice. “Can we talk later? Will you meet me for a drink after dinner?”

  Elizabeth opened her mouth to respond, ready to find six different ways to say no. But all she was able to do was nod her head.

  “The bar in the hotel at eight thirty?” Ruth asked before she turned to follow her handler out of the room.

  “All right,” said Elizabeth.

  Elizabeth had stayed in this hotel many times. Fowler had acquired and remodeled it in the 1990s. It was serviceable, clean, with a few amenities, but nothing like the five-star hotels she was used to when she traveled for business. The bar area was small, with a few tables set up against the back wall. Elizabeth walked in slowly and saw that Ruth was already seated as far away as possible from the bar’s other patrons, mostly younger women attending their reunions, each wearing her name tag with the Fowler logo and class year.

  Elizabeth had had the opportunity to shower and change before dinner, so she felt a bit more
put together than she had that afternoon when Joanna Parrish had brought Ruth over to greet her. Ruth was still wearing the black slacks and short black-and-white jacket from their earlier meeting. She wore it well. Elizabeth couldn’t help but notice that she’d aged gracefully into an attractive, striking woman. The word from friends was that Ruth was still single. How some beautiful, accomplished woman hadn’t snapped her up by now was incomprehensible.

  “I took the liberty of ordering this ice wine.” Ruth pointed to a small, thin bottle on the table with two empty glasses set out. “It makes a good nightcap.”

  Ruth lifted the bottle and poured, first for Elizabeth and then for herself.

  Elizabeth took a sip and nodded. It was cold and a little sweet but still had a snap to it that didn’t make it taste like syrup.

  Ruth raised her glass and angled it toward Elizabeth. “You know, I’ve rehearsed this conversation in my head hundreds of times, and yet I’m still not quite sure how to begin.”

  Hundreds of times? She must be exaggerating.

  Elizabeth looked across the table and saw that same intense, serious expression she remembered so well. But the woman wearing it was a stranger to her. She’d lived a whole other lifetime separate from Elizabeth. And that had been her choice.

  “Ruth, what am I doing here? What do you want from me?”

  Elizabeth’s brash questions didn’t seem to rattle her. Ruth sat back in her chair. Elizabeth wondered if her legal training was helpful in situations like these. But Ruth wasn’t the only one who’d learned to appear calm under pressure. Elizabeth also had years of experience to fall back on. Not many other people who’d sat across the table from Amazon had come away satisfied with the results.

  “Well, first,” Ruth said in a measured tone, “I want to offer you a terribly belated apology.”

  Elizabeth shook her head. “There’s no need. It was such a long time ago.”

  “No, I do need to do it. I did a horrible thing and I hurt you. The only way I was able to go through with it was to close myself off to you and become this automaton-like creature. I’m sure that was so awful.”

  “It was.” Elizabeth raised her hands up. “But as I said, it’s in the past.”

  They were both quiet for a moment. Ruth looked down at her wineglass, still mostly full. Elizabeth took another sip and waited. Ruth had asked for this conversation, so Elizabeth saw no need to take the initiative.

  “I want to explain why I haven’t come back to Fowler until now or sought you out in New York.”

  Elizabeth looked up but said nothing. She could tell Ruth that she didn’t owe her any explanations, but she was curious to hear what she had to say. She sat back and crossed her arms over her chest.

  “At first I believed I had to live with the decisions I’d made,” said Ruth. “In a way, that wasn’t terribly difficult when you didn’t come back to Fowler for graduation, although you may have heard I was pretty much persona non grata among the friends we’d made.”

  Elizabeth nodded. She’d been told how merciless everyone had been, ignoring Ruth’s efforts to interact with them, calling her a “has-bian,” and asking her how it felt to live without a heart. Even after all these years, there was still a part of her that felt Ruth deserved it.

  “Maybe I even deserved it, who knows?” said Ruth.

  Elizabeth closed her mouth tightly, afraid that Ruth had read her thoughts.

  After taking a healthy sip from her glass, Ruth continued. “I found out later that you remained in Europe for an additional year. Once you returned, I reasoned that the kindest thing I could do was to let you live your life free from me. That’s the explanation I held on to for a very long time, even after Bennett and I divorced and I finally admitted to myself that I’m a lesbian.”

  Ruth seemed to relax a bit. She sat back and let her hands fall into her lap. “I did nothing during that time but work and raise my children. I have to admit that I kept up with you from afar, following your progress in the publishing business, reading every article about you when your uncle stepped aside and named you to head the company.”

  She stopped talking and closed her mouth tightly. Her eyes blinked out tears. Her voice broke. “I was so proud of you.”

  She wiped her eyes with a napkin. “Sorry. I didn’t expect this to happen, but maybe I should have.” She picked up her glass.

  Elizabeth felt her resolve thaw a bit.

  “Ruth, I also, uh, followed your progress. And I was so glad when you became a judge. I knew it was something you were made for. I remembered just how much you revered the American judicial system.”

  Another tear rolled down Ruth’s cheek. Elizabeth offered her napkin.

  “Thank you. I never thought that you would want to know anything about me, so this is nice to hear and very unexpected.”

  Elizabeth was suddenly hit with the futility of this whole situation. Why had each of them held on to all these assumptions for so long?

  “Anyway, as I said, I thought for a long time that I was being kind to you by staying away. I buried myself in my career and in my children. I’d go out on the occasional date, usually because a friend set something up or I was approached by someone. But nothing lasted more than a few months. Nobody could ever compare…”

  She trailed off, but Elizabeth knew the two words that were at the end of that sentence. Did Ruth possibly think that they could start again? She couldn’t even imagine.

  “Ruth, I truly do not know what to say.”

  “Well, then I’ll finish what I wanted to tell you.”

  Elizabeth watched Ruth take a few more sips of wine.

  “A few years ago, my daughter, Lauren, showed me the New York Times Magazine profile of you. Of course I’d already read it, but she was all excited when she learned that you and I had been in the same class at Fowler. I felt so sad when she asked me if I knew you. The question hit me hard.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I felt that I had somehow robbed her and her brother of the privilege of knowing you. They hadn’t been around for the happiest time of my life.”

  At the mention of their three years together, Elizabeth felt herself choke up.

  “So I told her everything. I mean, she’d known all along, as did Mark, that their father and I had split up because I was gay. But neither of them knew more than that.”

  Elizabeth couldn’t help but wonder what Ruth’s daughter had felt upon learning about her mother’s relationship with the woman whose face had adorned the front cover of the Times magazine that week.

  “How did she react?”

  “At first she was shocked. I think it’s difficult for any child to imagine that their parent has had any important relationships before they were born. That’s natural. But at that point, she was in her early twenties and was beginning the process of seeing me as more than just her mother. She’s always been very mature and I think the fact that I was single for most of her life made her relate to me like a real person. So her initial shock turned into sadness. She wanted me to be happy and she wished I’d gotten back in contact with you. But of course by then you were in a relationship with someone. You know, it was in the article.”

  “Gretchen.”

  “Yes. I remember the picture of the two of you.”

  Elizabeth had been very uncomfortable that the reporter wanted to include a photo of her with Gretchen. By then, she knew the relationship was not going to last and she felt it was a lie to appear to be part of this happy and settled couple. She ended things only a few months later. Would Ruth have contacted her had that picture not been published? The thought made her sad and irritated that they had both been so foolish. But not much could be done about that now. She decided instead to pursue a different topic.

  “So your daughter, Lauren, is comfortable with your sexu
ality?”

  Ruth nodded. “Oh yes. She and her brother have known since they were quite young, shortly after Bennett and I were divorced. It’s a different world now. To their generation, being gay is not a big deal, even if it’s your own mother.”

  “So your son feels the same?”

  “He’s wonderful as well. He…” She hesitated and looked away, almost as if she was going to say something, but thought better of it. Elizabeth was about to ask, but then Ruth looked up and smiled.

  “He lives in Los Angeles now,” she said, “and I don’t get to see him as much as I’d like. I think you’d…enjoy him.”

  “Why did you come to the reunion? Margaret said you turned her down at first. What made you agree?”

  Ruth let out a long breath and followed it with a small chuckle. “It was mostly Lauren. She pushed and pushed. I think she’s become an even better attorney than either of her parents.”

  Elizabeth tilted her head and narrowed her eyes, wordlessly asking why.

  “She told me it was time to face you. That I would never be happy or feel settled until I did. She hounded me day after day even though I repeatedly refused to discuss it with her. Then one night, I couldn’t sleep. I turned on the television and there was an old black-and-white movie version of Great Expectations. Remember when you asked me who I most resembled in that book?”

  Each time Ruth brought up something from their past Elizabeth felt that she was on the verge of tears. She nodded, unable to speak.

  “As I sat through the movie, I thought back on our conversation and on how I had tried to avoid answering your question, which was really about love. I closely watched old Miss Havisham sitting among the ruins of her decades-old heartbreak. I realized then that I hadn’t just stayed away out of kindness to you, I’d also done so because I was punishing myself for hurting you. After what I’d done, I didn’t think I deserved to be happy. I thought instead I was only fit to sit amidst the wreckage of my life and never move on from it. The next day I called Margaret and accepted her invitation. Then I called Lauren and thanked her.”