Getting Back

by Cindy Rizzo

  “You look terrific. I see you got some sun in LA.”

  “A little bit, yes. We went out to the desert and then spent a few days in Palm Springs. I had no idea how many gay people live there! Mostly men, but some women as well.”

  A twinge of jealousy passed through Elizabeth. What if Ruth had met someone on her trip?

  “Was it all right to be there with your children?”

  “Oh yes. Sometimes I think they feel more comfortable in gay settings, even though I seem to have raised two heterosexuals.”

  “So your son…?”

  She smiled. “Yes, he likes girls, though I had my doubts for many years. He’s something of what’s known as a metrosexual, prefers everything to be neat and clean, always well dressed, fusses over his clothing. I thought for a long time he was going to come out. But no, instead he came to me seeking advice about girls. Most sons would never do that. They’d just talk to their friends. But Mark is different that way. And, as for Lauren, luckily she’s had Helena to talk to about boys. Oh, and her uncles Paul and Kosei. They’re the ones who took her shopping for a prom dress. They’ll probably want to help her pick out a wedding dress when and if the time comes.”

  Elizabeth sat Ruth down at the dining room table promising her a surprise for the first course. When she set their bowls down, she watched as Ruth sat there in shock with her mouth open.

  “I can’t believe you…”

  “Yes, it’s your recipe. Taste it and see if I got it right. But, of course, first you’ll need to add some of this.” She pointed to the small plate of sour cream on the table.

  “Elizabeth, I had no idea you’d remember. I don’t know what to say.”

  She put her hand over Ruth’s. “Well, then, just eat.”

  Ruth sipped the pink mixture and rested her spoon back in the bowl. “It’s delicious. It means so much to me that you did this.”

  “Well, I’m glad I got it right.”

  “Have you made it often over the years?”

  “Now and then, mostly just for myself. It’s nice for supper during a heat wave like the one we had last month. One time, I brought some into the office for Reese. I wasn’t sure whether she’d like it, but she did.”

  “How are things going with that?”

  “Pretty much the same. I’m still trying to get up the nerve to talk to her.” She paused while she tore a piece off her dinner roll. “Ruth, I have this idea about Reese and I wanted to ask you if you think I’m insane to even contemplate it.”

  Ruth looked at her and nodded.

  “Can I adopt her? I mean legally in New York? Is that possible?”

  Ruth’s eyes narrowed.

  “Yes, it is. But why? You can be a parent to her without that.”

  “I know. I just thought formalizing it might make things easier when it came time to hand over the reins of the business to her. It helped me to be Hank Morrison’s niece because everyone just assumed I’d be next in line. I’d like the situation with Reese to have that same air of inevitability. I mean, people will think all kinds of things I’m sure, but at least my own intentions will be clarified.”

  “So you want to do this as part of your succession planning?”

  “No, not just that. I want to give Reese something solid, something she hasn’t had for most of her life, and I want that for me too. I really care deeply about her.”

  Ruth took Elizabeth’s hand and laced their fingers together.

  “I have to ask you this,” she said. “Are you prepared for Reese to turn you down?”

  “Oh, I hadn’t…”

  “I’m sorry. It’s the lawyer in me, always assessing risk ahead of time.”

  Elizabeth looked at her nearly empty bowl. She’d been so focused on whether she would be permitted legally to adopt Reese, she hadn’t had time to consider whether Reese would want that. What if she said no? Would it affect their relationship? Would Elizabeth still want Reese to succeed her?

  Ruth squeezed her hand. “Talk to her, Elizabeth,” she said in a soft voice. “It will likely go the way you expect it to.”

  Elizabeth sighed. “I hope so. Frankly, one of the reasons I’ve been putting it off is because it’s been difficult to focus on two major issues at once.”

  “Two?”

  Elizabeth looked directly at Ruth and nodded.

  “Oh, you mean this—us.”

  Elizabeth stood, picked up her bowl, and reached for Ruth’s. “I’m going to serve the main course now.”

  Ruth chuckled when Elizabeth placed the platter on the table.

  “Pulling out all the stops tonight, aren’t you?”

  Elizabeth smiled as she filled Ruth’s plate, remembering how she preferred the dark meat of the chicken.

  “It helps to know what one’s guest likes to eat.”

  “Thank you, really. I’m so touched by all this.”

  “Ruth, I’m plying you with good food because I want to ask you about something that’s not going to be easy for either of us. While I was at the beach in August, I read Guy Jacobson’s book, Modern Day Moses. It explained some things I didn’t know before, but it also raised a lot of questions. I assume you read it?”

  Ruth looked away and began to fiddle with her fork, turning it around in her hand. “Yes, but not right away when it was published. It was released too close to my father’s death and to the confirmation hearing. There was so much going on then. I had to help my mother plan an unveiling, which is something Jews do a year after someone dies to commemorate the placing of a stone on the gravesite. And you know nothing involving my father was ever simple. Every Russian Jew in America wanted to come. Also, Lauren was starting college. It all came at once.”

  They were both quiet for a minute. Elizabeth watched Ruth eat a piece of chicken.

  “Ummm, your coq au vin is still delicious. It seems you haven’t lost your touch.” She swallowed and bit her lower lip. Elizabeth could see the color rise in her cheeks with the knowledge that her words had had a double meaning. She grinned back at Ruth. You’re still so adorable, she thought.

  Ruth put her fork down. “I finally read the book right after September 11th, when everything was shut down. I’m not sure the timing was the best, replacing one tragedy with another, but, yes, I did read it.”

  “What did you think? Did you think you were treated fairly?”

  “He really captured what our life in Leningrad had been like. I also learned some things about my father’s work and the details leading up to our departure. As far as Jacobson’s treatment of me, it was somewhat accurate, though I think he took me to task too harshly for not throwing myself into my parents’ cause. If he only knew the number of Hadassah meetings I went to, not to mention the Sunday vigils.”

  “Did you resent having to do it all?”

  Ruth sat back and turned her head up in thought.

  “I guess I did a bit. Of course I had a long list of good reasons, all of which Jacobson cited—my career, the birth of my children—but I did hold back. Bennett was much more active than I was.”

  “I wondered if you had some residual resentment about, you know, your choices…” She wasn’t sure how to finish the sentence.

  “It’s likely, even though the decision to break up with you and marry Bennett was mine alone. My parents never knew about us.”

  “Ruth, forgive me if I’m overreaching, but I think the time has passed for being polite and cautious. Actually, there never was such a time for us.” Elizabeth took a deep breath. “It seems to me that you hold so much in. You’ve always just done what is expected and what is needed for the sake of others. And you’ve swallowed back your own needs. I worry that it’s built up inside you. That’s why I asked about whether you might have resented your parents. I hope you’re not angry that I’ve
spoken so frankly. But if something is going to come of all this, we have to get everything out in the open.”

  A sad and serious expression spread over Ruth’s face. Elizabeth had seen it many times in the past when Ruth was puzzling out some American phrase or custom or when she was struggling to make sense of an offbeat film. Ruth was never comfortable with abstract ideas that she couldn’t easily parse or analyze, especially when they centered on her. That’s why she loved the law. It was concrete and logical. The riddles it presented could be solved with facts and precedents.

  Ruth pressed her thumb and forefinger over the bridge of her nose. Elizabeth recognized that gesture as an attempt to hold back tears. She sat quietly and waited.

  “You always knew me better than anyone else. I could never fool you,” said Ruth. There was a tone of surrender in her voice.

  “It’s because I cared enough to want to know you. I still do. Please tell me what happened that summer when you decided you had to marry Bennett. Up until now I thought we could dispense with this conversation. But I realized that it’s the only way we can move forward. How about we move to the living room? I’ll make some tea and I have a very special dessert for us. It’s not another nostalgia dish, I promise.”

  Elizabeth set a slice of pie garnished with a dollop of cream in front of Ruth and sat down next to her on the couch.

  “I have a friend who’s been instructing me in the fine art of Southern regional cooking. This is her family’s recipe. Try it.”

  Elizabeth cut off the tip of the triangular slice with a fork, dipped it in the cream, and fed it to Ruth.

  “Amazing!”

  “Sinful, right. Well, you know, if any people know about sin, it’s Southerners.”

  As they ate dessert, Elizabeth gave Ruth a rundown of all the dishes she’d learned to cook and told her that it had been Tracy who suggested she read the Jacobson book.

  “So you asked about that summer,” said Ruth. “You know, Lauren and Mark make all of this so complicated for me. I mean, I wish I could just say, I regret what I did and I should have made a different decision. But then, they would never have been born and that’s not something I’m willing to want undone. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, but we could have had our own family.”

  “I suppose looking back from today that’s true, Elizabeth. But a lesbian couple having children wasn’t even a possibility in 1977. Neither of us could have imagined it.”

  Elizabeth was doing her best to keep her emotions in check. She didn’t think a repeat of that day in Philadelphia was going to accomplish what she’d set out to do by initiating this conversation. With some effort, she kept a calm, soft tone in her voice. “So is that why you did it, to have children?”

  Ruth shook her head. “No, that came later. When I arrived home from Fowler that summer, there were suddenly all these plans my mother had made that had me spending more and more time with Bennett. It was clear that both sets of parents were ramping things up. He was all my mother could talk about. When was I seeing him next? Wasn’t he handsome and so smart? She harped on the fact that he would one day be a successful attorney and that many women would want him. She said I should take advantage of the opportunity while it was still available. She even told me she thought he’d make an excellent father.”

  Elizabeth inched closer to Ruth on the couch and patted her forearm. Ruth looked down at Elizabeth’s hand and then back up.

  “Don’t forget, my parents were people who knew how to run an effective campaign and never quit. And I was a much easier target than the US government or the Soviets.”

  “The pressure must have been enormous.”

  “It was. The only saving grace was Bennett himself. He was so kind, so caring. Genuinely. Not with any agenda. He truly liked me. So the combination of that and the relentless drumbeat of my parents wore away at me and I decided I had to give in.”

  “Were you thinking about me, about us at all? I mean, did you have to push our relationship to the side to do this?”

  “Yes. I relegated it in my mind to another world, another life. Almost like a dream or a fantasy. I convinced myself that it wasn’t real, just a college bubble.”

  “I remember you saying that you weren’t really sure you were a lesbian.”

  “I guess I had to convince myself of that. But I couldn’t live that lie for very long. I knew pretty soon that I would never achieve the kind of intimacy that you and I had, with Bennett or with any man. Once I was pregnant with Mark, I was no longer able to continue the charade. I pulled away from the physical relationship with Bennett. And then when Mark was a toddler and I could see the resemblance to you, both in his looks and his whole personality and emerging interests, I felt like a cruel joke had been played on me. That’s when I told Bennett I was gay and I couldn’t continue in the marriage.”

  “And your parents, did you ever tell them?”

  “Not right away. The divorce was hard on them. They had so much invested in my marriage to Bennett.”

  “It’s actually very Shakespearean, the joining of two powerful families.”

  Ruth smiled sadly and nodded. “I know. What is the quote? All of life’s a stage and we are merely players?”

  “Yes, but you know it goes on to say, and I’m paraphrasing, that one person plays many parts in their time. Your acts are seven ages.”

  “I’ve come to believe that’s true. A time for every purpose and all that.”

  Elizabeth felt at last the moment was right. She was already sitting close to Ruth when she gently placed both hands on her cheeks and moved their faces together. The first kiss was warm and tender and embodied all the forgiveness Elizabeth could muster. Ruth pulled her closer as they continued to kiss.

  It felt so right and fit so well. It was like finally finding that piece in a puzzle that brings the whole picture into view.

  As they continued to kiss, Elizabeth felt the trickle of a tear roll onto her hand, which was still pressed against Ruth’s face. She was crying. Elizabeth broke the kiss but stayed close, wiping away the tears with her thumb.

  “No, no,” she whispered. “It’s all right. There’s no crying at the beginning of a new act.” She smiled and placed a small kiss on Ruth’s mouth.

  “Sorry,” said Ruth as she blinked and tried to shake the tears from her eyes. “I just never imagined this would happen.”

  “Because you thought you didn’t deserve it.”

  She nodded. “And I thought you didn’t think I did either.”

  “Well, as you can see it’s taken me some time, and it will continue to do so, but at least now I know what road I’m on. That wasn’t clear to me until very recently.”

  “I meant what I said to you at the reunion about handing over control.”

  Elizabeth moved into Ruth’s embrace and for a few minutes they just gazed at one another. For Elizabeth, it was a new way of looking, different from how it had been at the reunion or in Riverside Park. Instead of confusion and shock or distress at the thousands of questions and misgivings that Elizabeth knew Ruth had seen in her, there was now something different that she was communicating—joy and hope. She saw the same thing reflected back at her from Ruth.

  They were both so grateful that she had reached this place. She began once again to kiss Ruth, but this time with more passion, pressing harder, opening her mouth, licking Ruth’s lips and finding her tongue. She felt dizzy with happiness and need. And just like that night when Ruth had come by after the ACLU dinner, she wanted to take her to bed. She wanted their clothes off, to again touch the body she remembered all too well, to feel Ruth’s weight on her, to give in to her need, finally.

  As she conjured the vision of them together like that, still dizzy and aroused by the softness of Ruth’s mouth on hers and the low moans her kisses were eliciting, a bolt of
fear ran through her. It seemed to come out of nowhere, such a marked contrast to all she was experiencing in that moment. It was that same feeling of anxiety as before. Sex would be just like jumping off a cliff into dangerous territory. She moved her head onto Ruth’s shoulder and rested it there.

  I can’t, she thought.

  Chapter 13

  September 2008

  It was no use talking to Margaret about any of this. She’d poo-poo Elizabeth’s hesitation and fear, and like an impatient mother, would tell her to just dive into the deep water. In fact, she was certain that if Margaret could arrange it, she herself would somehow engineer Elizabeth and Ruth into a bed, remove their clothing, and lock the door. Then afterward, she’d remind Elizabeth that she hadn’t yet gotten back to her about the date with Pam Randall.

  To Margaret, sex was like scratching an itch. You make the effort, feel better for it, and move on to your next appointment. Elizabeth had to admit that from time to time she’d done the same. But she couldn’t with Ruth. She wanted it to mean more. No, she corrected herself, it did mean more. It meant jumping off that cliff into some kind of vortex, where she would be forever lost to Ruth, completely devoted and wanting forever. But then, what if Ruth left her? She couldn’t bear it a second time. Whatever resiliency she’d had at twenty was no longer there. Her heart would never recover. It barely had the first time. Back then, she could just go off to Europe on a two-year adventure. Now she had to run a company in an industry undergoing seismic changes.

  But when she was most honest with herself, she had to admit that her fear was more tied to another, even more frightening possibility of what sex could set in motion. In that scenario, it was she who walked away after drawing Ruth in, making her think they were at last reunited, and then dropping her. In other words, evening the score. Getting back.

  Her body shook with chills when she imagined that frightening outcome. But could she trust herself enough to avoid it? Had she sufficiently forgiven Ruth? Were her feelings for Ruth reliable enough to guard against it? Or did she just want to experience that ecstasy she remembered one final time?