by Cindy Rizzo
“Elizabeth, these are my dear friends, Paul Stanton and Kosei Ashida.”
Paul Stanton, of course. Now she remembered the voice. He had called her earlier in the year asking, really begging, her to join some group he’d put together of rich gay people who donated money to political candidates or something. He was terribly persistent, but she held her ground and turned him down. The money would have been no problem, but she couldn’t afford to take the time to attend the group’s monthly daylong meetings. When she’d asked if she could send someone in her place—she had thought she could ask Reese—he refused.
How did Stanton know Ruth?
“Well, now that I’ve finally got you in my clutches, I’m going to spend the whole night convincing you to become a member of the Catalyst Group.”
That’s right. That was the name of his organization.
“Paul, I’m sorry but you do not get to monopolize her,” said Ruth.
“Uncle Paul, Uncle Kosei, I’m so glad you’re here,” said Lauren.
Uncle? Elizabeth looked at Ruth with the question on her face.
“Come walk with me to the bar and I’ll explain.”
But no sooner did either of them begin a sentence, they were interrupted by someone who was eager to welcome “Judge Abramson.” This was definitely Ruth’s crowd. After the third “Your Honor,” Elizabeth stopped counting. Ruth kept looking back at her and shrugging in apology. They were almost at the bar when yet another person approached them.
“Good evening, Your Honor, I’m so glad you were able to make it for Lauren’s big night.”
“Kenneth, how good to see you. This is Elizabeth Morrison. Kenneth Munoz heads up Lauren’s team at the ACLU. He’s her supervisor.”
Lauren’s boss. Ruth’s introduction was a signal that the man shouldn’t be ignored. Elizabeth was gracious in her greeting.
“You are the Elizabeth Morrison from Morrison Publishing, are you not?” he asked.
His manner was a bit stiff and formal. Elizabeth guessed some kind of Ivy League pedigree, though not a wealthy upbringing that would have made him more relaxed in her presence.
She nodded with a soft “yes.”
“I was wondering if you’d indulge me, and I apologize in advance for being so direct. But I have this manuscript. It’s a legal procedural.”
Oh no, she thought. Another John Grisham wannabe. Normally, she’d summon up Queen Elizabeth for these kinds of encounters, but she couldn’t do that in this case.
“Why don’t you have your agent send it through to us.”
“I don’t have an agent just yet,” he said. “But I’m hoping to secure one soon,” he added quickly.
Of course not, she thought.
“Well, then, have Lauren send it directly to me. This way I’ll know what it is and I will assign one of my top senior editors to review it.”
She figured this arrangement would further elevate Lauren’s status in his eyes. She glanced over at Ruth and saw a slight smile on her face. As he was thanking her profusely, still in that stiff and formal tone, Elizabeth spotted Reese making her way toward them.
“Isn’t this timely. Here’s the editor I mentioned.”
Reese received this news with a look of surprised annoyance. Well, thought Elizabeth, when you’re the boss you can do the same thing to somebody else.
“Ouch,” said Ruth as they finally reached the bar. “Is that your version of motherly tough love?” She was chuckling.
“She’ll live. Besides, the last time I assigned her someone without representation she discovered a future Pulitzer Prize winner. That was Robin Greene.”
“I’m not sure Ken Munoz is in that league.”
“I’m sure he’s not. The truth is I was waiting for a chance to get back at her for the Margaret incident. Now I can finally get it out of my system. So tell me about Paul Stanton and his partner. How do you know them, and can you save me from spending the rest of the evening being lobbied to join that group of his?”
“Paul and I were in the same class in law school at Columbia. I was still married then, so he thought I was one of those straight women who like to hang around with gay men.” She let out a short, bitter laugh. “It wasn’t very long before I became more open with him and our friendship grew. Kosei didn’t come along until years later when he was hired by the law school as an assistant professor and he and Paul met at some event. By then, Paul had an MBA, a PhD, and probably five other degrees. He had been teaching at the business school for a few years.”
“Ruth, he’s quite wealthy, isn’t he?”
“One of the richest gay men in the country. His fortune is measured in the billions. But he’s so down to earth, you’d never know. After Bennett and I divorced and I was effectively a single parent on my days with the children, Paul, and then later Paul and Kosei, spent a lot of time helping me out, especially when I was working on a trial or taking care of my parents. That’s why Lauren and Mark think of them as their uncles.”
“More chosen family?”
“Yes. And you’ve now reduced me to dragging out that tired, old phrase that it takes a village.”
After the main course had been cleared, Lauren and two other attorneys were called up to the podium. They were being recognized for a case they’d won establishing the rights of homeless youth to peaceably congregate in residential areas without being subject to police searches. A representative from the Coalition for the Homeless provided each of the attorneys with a small glass plaque.
Elizabeth kept her eyes on Ruth. She was beaming. As Lauren’s name was called, Ruth dabbed at her eyes with a tissue. Elizabeth took her hand and squeezed it. They exchanged a look of mutual pride and satisfaction.
But as Elizabeth turned back to the small group of young lawyers being showered with praise, she was suddenly overcome with a feeling of falseness. It was one thing to be happy for Lauren, but to share in Ruth’s joy as if she’d earned that right was pure delusion. The truth was she had just met Ruth’s daughter for the first time that night. Elizabeth hadn’t been in the delivery room. She’d never changed a diaper. She hadn’t seen her off on her first day of kindergarten or watched her walk out the door on a date. She hadn’t been at the high school, college, or law school graduations. She glanced across the table at Bennett and Helena, who’d done all of those things, and at Paul and Kosei, who’d been there for a good deal of it. Tonight these people were reaping the benefits of all of their hard work. Elizabeth was merely a guest, someone with a seat in the back row who’d been able to witness the finale, so she could be among those who stood and applauded, as she was doing now. The look she and Ruth had exchanged was nothing more than a shared fantasy, the briefest glimpse of what could have been their lives together. In reality, Elizabeth was merely an extra in this extravaganza, Ruth’s undefined something, not a parent and not even chosen family. Was this the clarity she’d needed to gain by attending this dinner?
“I’m going to go over to check on Reese,” she said to Ruth. “She was hoping I could prevent her from becoming bored at this event.”
“I’ll come with you.”
“No, you stay with your family. I’m certain Lauren will want you near her. I’ll be back in a few minutes as soon as Reese realizes I’m not all that entertaining.”
Reese had a smile plastered on her face as she sat talking to some woman at her table while Jaret chatted with what appeared to be her coworkers. Elizabeth tapped her on the shoulder and looked over at the other woman.
“May I steal her for a few moments?”
Reese excused herself and walked away from the table with Elizabeth.
“Thank you for that,” she said, her voice filled with relief. “But I’m still mad at you for dumping that pretend author on me. I’m sure the attorney in his book is just him reimagined as a superh
ero.”
“Come then, I’ll get you a drink as an act of penance.”
Reese turned to Elizabeth and rolled her eyes. “It’s an open bar.”
She handed Reese her favorite vodka and cranberry juice. “Here you go. Now stop acting like a petulant child. You’ll knock that manuscript out in a night and send him a polite letter telling him we’ll pass.”
Reese sipped her drink.
“That’s a night of my life I’ll never get back.”
Elizabeth rolled her eyes. “He’s Lauren Miller’s boss. And let me remind you, in case you’ve forgotten, that I happen to be your boss, young lady.”
Reese smiled and curtsied.
“Yes, ma’am.”
They both laughed.
“I think I’m going to be leaving in a little while,” said Elizabeth.
“What about Ruth? How are things going?”
“All right, but I’m about at my limit.”
“With her?”
“No. With all the rest.”
Reese looked at her quizzically, but she decided not to elaborate.
“I should go back and say my good-byes.”
She returned to the table just as a man with a large camera was arranging a group for a photo.
“Uncle Paul, Uncle Kosei, you stand next to Mom,” said Lauren.
“Elizabeth, come here,” Ruth called out to her as she stood on one side of Lauren with Bennett and Helena on the other. Paul and Kosei took their places next to Ruth.
“Oh, this is nice. A family shot,” said the photographer.
Elizabeth shook her head at Ruth declining her invitation to be in the picture. Really, it made no sense for her to be included. She took her purse from her seat and motioned to Ruth that she was leaving.
Now it was Ruth’s turn to shake her head, but she remained at Lauren’s side, still trapped by the photographer’s need to get the perfect shot.
“Early meeting tomorrow morning, my apologies,” Elizabeth called out.
She saw Helena’s look of surprise, her mouth open. Elizabeth gave her a weak smile and shrugged her shoulders. “Nice meeting all of you,” she called out.
Walking quickly while trying not to be conspicuous, she exited the function room and reached for her phone to call Max.
As she walked toward the stairway, she heard footsteps behind her. “Elizabeth wait.” It was Reese.
“I wanted to say good-bye. Why are you in such a hurry?”
She paused at the top of the stairs. “I told you I’d reached my limit.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, this isn’t my family or my daughter or my, my anything. I told you already, there’s no way to define this and I just can’t do it right now.”
She headed down the stairs.
“I’ll come with you. Wait.”
“No, you go back to Jaret. She needs you more than I do right now, Reese. Goodnight.”
She stood in the middle of her kitchen, a small glass of sherry in one hand. Maybe when it came to Ruth, there were just no answers. It didn’t matter how she felt when they were together, how her heart sped up when Ruth touched her, and how those midnight eyes were still able to work their magic on her. Perhaps if they’d had no history with one another, if they’d just met for the first time, she could have moved forward with something. But there was so much that had happened, both in their past together and in the intervening thirty years. And there were so many people to have to take into account. Ruth’s children, for one thing. Elizabeth hadn’t even considered the son. Ruth hardly spoke about him. Was there something wrong with him?
Well, really, what did it matter? She couldn’t make this work. Every time she took a small step she was stopped in her tracks by some obstacle, some problem—the intrusion of memories or this sense that she would never be able to inhabit a comfortable place in Ruth’s world. Any thoughts of slotting Ruth in as just a friend seemed ridiculous. There was too much between them. They both knew it.
And yet, now that Ruth was in her life again, it was painful to think of going back to how things were before when she was just a two-dimensional entry in a scrapbook, a dull pain like an old injury that flared up from time to time. Would there really never be another sunset over the Hudson River with Ruth’s arm around her shoulders? Would she never be able to look up from the backseat of the car and see Ruth looking dazzling in that creme-colored jacket?
It was late, nearly eleven. She really didn’t have an early morning meeting. That had just been an excuse. She picked up her phone and called Margaret. It was three hours earlier in California.
“I’m glad you called. I want to hear about your big date. The dinner was tonight, wasn’t it? Ooh, and you met your old rival, the ex-husband.”
“Bennett was never my rival. And he was very nice, as was his wife.”
“And you are home at, what is it there, eleven. Why the early night?”
Elizabeth sighed into the phone and sat down at her kitchen table.
“Oh, I’m not liking that answer. What happened?”
“Margaret, there’s no place for me. I sat there amidst Ruth’s daughter, Bennett and his wife, who’s been a second mother to those children, and even a gay male couple they refer to as uncles, and who was I? Just some interloper, some person without a portfolio. I was completely out of place.”
“Elizabeth, you sound like you’re auditioning for a soap opera. What does it matter? You’re there now. You’re starting something new with Ruth.”
“It could have been us, Margaret. Ruth and I could have had those children together. Weren’t lesbian couples having their own families in the 1980s?”
“Damned if I know when lesbians were having kids.”
“Ugh, I’m so sick of thinking about this and struggling with it. Why don’t you regale me with something interesting from your world.”
“Well, it won’t give you any respite because it’s on the same topic. I met her son at a studio event.”
“Ruth’s son, Mark?”
“Yes, he worked on this picture they just wrapped. I think he’s one of those writers they bring in when the script needs a work over. Anyway, I got a good look at him, but he had no idea that I knew his mother and I didn’t tell him.”
“Why not?”
“Because, frankly, I was too freaked out. I don’t know how to even tell you this, Elizabeth, without sounding like I’m a total lunatic.”
“Margaret, I’m so exhausted I can’t even think of a way to use that line against you. What is it about the boy? Ruth hardly mentions him and I was beginning to wonder why.”
“I think I can guess, but before I tell you, you have to promise me that you’ll suspend all of your sense of logic and reality for a minute and, as they say, take a walk on the wild side.”
“Oh God, Margaret, just tell me. It’s probably nothing quite as dramatic as you’re making it out to be.”
“All right, here it is. Mark Miller is the spitting image,” she paused, “well, of you. Same color hair, same shaped face, eyes, nose. It was as if you came back reincarnated as a boy in his twenties.”
“That’s ridiculous. I’m sure I’ve seen a picture of him at some point. He’s got lighter coloring than Ruth, but so does Bennett.”
“Do you and Bennett look alike?”
“No, though it was amusing to see that I match his height when I’m in heels. But Margaret, this is absurd about Mark. It’s completely over the top, even for you.”
“Why would I make this up? Do you think I enjoy having to hear you talk to me in that patronize-the-lunatic tone?
“Do you really want me to answer that question?”
“Look, Elizabeth, come out here and get a good look at this kid. I’ll figure a w
ay to get the two of you into the same event.”
“Margaret, I’m not flying three thousand miles to look at Ruth’s son, especially when I have no idea what I’m doing when it comes to her. You can make light of it all you want, but tonight was very disconcerting for me.”
The buzz of Elizabeth’s intercom reverberated throughout the kitchen.
“Margaret, I’m being buzzed from downstairs. I’ve got to get going.”
Elizabeth pressed the talk button on the intercom panel. “Yes?”
“Ms. Morrison, sorry to disturb you this late, but there’s a visitor who wants to come up to see you.”
Elizabeth glanced over at the clock on her stovetop. It was almost eleven thirty. Who could it be?
“Her name is Ruth Abramson.”
Elizabeth closed her eyes and breathed out. “All right. Send her up, please.”
“Elizabeth, I know it’s very late, but I also know you didn’t leave the dinner because you have an early meeting. Something happened and I came by to see if we could talk about it.”
They stood together in the entry foyer. Elizabeth still had one hand on the doorknob, the other clutching her dark blue silk robe. There’d been no time to change.
“How did you know where I live?” She kept her tone level. She wasn’t angry at Ruth, just tired and surprised.
“I found Reese and she called Max.”
Elizabeth groaned. “She shouldn’t have. The poor man isn’t at our beck and call twenty-four hours a day.”
“I told her not to bother him, but she caught him in line at the gas station, still in Manhattan, and he said he’d be happy to pick me up. Really, I could have taken a taxi, but Reese…”
“Can be stubborn. What did she tell you?”
“Just that I should talk to you as soon as possible.”
“All right,” she said with a touch of resignation in her voice. “I have some excellent sherry. It’s almost as good as ice wine.” She gave Ruth a small smile and showed her into the living room.