by Lise Gold
“You mean you’re giving me an interview?” she stammered. “I’m flattered. In fact, it’s perfect timing. I’ve got some issues at work at the moment that I’m trying to work through. Nothing serious,” she hastily added. “But yes, I’d love to meet up to show you some sketches and prints.” Lauren seemed pleased with the answer and cheerfully passed their empty plates on to Eleanor, who apparently had been eavesdropping on their conversation all along. Sophie could tell by the smirk on her face.
“Care to tell me what your problems were about?” Lauren asked. “Not that it’s any of my business, but I might be able to give you some advice?” Sophie glanced over at her mother, and Lauren detected the cautiousness in her eyes.
“I’m going for a cigarette in the garden,” she said matter-of-factly. “I know smoking is frowned upon by our fellow table companions, but I always love to have one after dinner. Join me? We can talk there.”
Any excuse to get away from the table was a good excuse as far as Sophie was concerned and she felt herself warming to Lauren. She seemed honest, straightforward and surprisingly bright. And somehow, Sophie felt like she could trust her. Maybe it wasn’t the smartest move, opening up to a potential employer but it felt like the right thing to do. She told Lauren about her current situation. She even told her about the announcement to her parents that was supposed to happen that afternoon. Lauren listened attentively as she took long drags from her thin menthol cigarette and nodded in an understanding manner after Sophie had finished.
“I’m so happy for you,” she said. “You might have found the love of your life, and that’s beautiful.” She flicked the stub into a bucket under the drain pipe and put a hand on Sophie’s shoulder. “You have to be strong now and tell them. The sooner you do, the sooner they’ll adjust to the idea.” She paused, searching for the right words. “I like your parents. They’ve been very kind to me today. I’ve had quite different social experiences since Allan and I got together. People assume things about me and judge me, but your mother has made me feel very welcome. My own friends are quite different from Allan’s friends. They're more open-minded, I guess. Maybe it’s because I’m younger, I don’t know. I was quite nervous coming here today but I’m trying to make it work so we can have a life together. I want that for us, to be together as much as we can. Share things. And I want that for you too. Your parents don’t seem unreasonable. Just give them some time and they’ll come around.” She smiled. “I’m willing to bet a thousand pounds that if your relationship works out, we’ll all be around the table together six months from now, including Mel.”
“Thanks,” Sophie said. “I appreciate that. My mother already knows of course but she needs to understand that it’s not a phase. And my father… well, I have no idea how he’s going to react but I just want to get it over with.” She’d left Stewart out of the conversation. It was his decision to tell people, not hers.
“Thanks for telling me,” Lauren grinned. “I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t think it was strictly work related and I certainly don’t want you to think I’m nosey. But it’s inspiring. You’re inspiring. And I’m looking forward to our next meeting.”
A couple of hours later, Sophie, Stewart, Eleanor, and David were sitting alone at the end of the long dining table. Eleanor was trying to make out that she was tired but their father wasn’t having any of it.
“Nonsense Eleanor. It’s not often we have both our children around the table. Let’s have a coffee and a brandy together so we can finally have a quiet family conversation without that bloody Deborah and her opinions interrupting us every five seconds.” Stewart couldn’t help but chuckle, despite his nervousness. Their father didn’t seem to be joking though.
“I’m serious, Eleanor. I’ve begged you not to invite that woman over every single Sunday but you just can’t help yourself. I have women like her in my chair and on my table all day long. I don’t need to deal with them on my precious time off.” Eleanor shot him an angry look but he ignored her. “I’m telling you, that woman is not mentally stable enough to have a glass of wine. She gets intrusive and opinionated and Mark the old chap… well, frankly I think he suffers.” He refilled his brandy glass and offered one to Sophie and Stewart too, before clearing his throat.
“Now, I’m not an idiot like some of you may think. Something’s been going on here. You’ve all been acting strange and I want to know what you’ve been keeping from me. Come on, spill it.” Stewart, who had been planning this moment for the past five years, looked him straight in the eyes. There was no fear in them anymore. Sophie could tell he wanted to get it out of the way, whatever the outcome may be. He could live with it either way, he had told her.
“I’m gay, dad. And I have a boyfriend. His name is Roberto. He’s Italian and we’ve been seeing each other for half a year.” Their father stared at him, expressionless. It was the same look he gave their mother each time he told her she looked great after yet another round of fillers and injections and it was impossible to read his thoughts. Tiny drops of sweat trickled down his neck and nestled in the collar of his crisp white shirt. He opened the top two buttons and removed his tie. He said nothing.
Stewart sighed, relieved that the word was out. When no one spoke, he nudged Sophie, urging her to say something too. She felt her face go bright red. She wanted to run out of the front door, escape from her father’s blank stare. But Stewart had done his part and now it was her turn.
“Okay, so I’m gay too,” she blurted. “I have a girlfriend. Her name is Mel. You met her; It’s the girl I work with.” Her heart was racing, and she held her breath, waiting for the moment they would both be kicked out of the house. Then, at least, they would both have a reason to hate their parents and wouldn’t have to worry about what they thought of them anymore.
Their father shuffled in his chair uncomfortably, avoiding eye contact. It was very out of character for him. Her mother looked nervously from her children to her husband and back. They sat there in eerie silence, waiting for someone to react. It was their mother who spoke after clearing her throat numerous times.
“Despite what you may think of me, you're my children and I love you.” Both Sophie and Stewart sighed in relief. They waited for their mother to continue but she couldn’t seem to find the words. Eleanor looked like a deer in headlights. Her eyes were wide, her upper lip trembled and there was a nervous twitch in her left cheek, the only muscle that still seemed to be functioning. Sophie felt a tear of relief rolling down her cheek and she smiled.
“Thank you, Mum. We love you too.” She swallowed hard, grasping the opportunity to speak for them both. She had practiced this in her mind over and over again in preparation.
“We know this may not be the ideal situation for you or the future you had planned for us, but I can assure you that we're both very happy. And that's what counts, right?” Stewart nodded and Eleanor tried to force a tiny smile, leaving her mouth slightly crooked. Eleanor looked at her husband, begging him with her eyes to speak. He downed his brandy and poured himself another one, finally looking up.
“I knew about Stewart,” he said. “I've always known. At least since you were in your teens. I found some magazines in your room when you were about fifteen. I was searching your room for drugs because you'd been behaving strangely and I was worried about you. When I found them, I was shocked but also relieved to know you didn’t have a drug problem. I realized you were struggling with your identity and I'm sorry I didn't help you through that. I had no idea how. For that, I owe you an apology.” He sighed. “I suppose I was hoping it would pass one day. Thought maybe it was a phase. I've been waiting for you to tell me for a long time.” His eyes shifted to Sophie while he fiddled with his napkin.
“But Sophie, I must say… I didn't see that coming from you.” He opened another button on his shirt, clearly uncomfortable with the topic. “It’s just a surprise, that’s all.” He folded his hands on the table, usually a sign that he was done speaking, especially in a difficult conver
sation. Stewart looked surprised. There was a shift in his demeanor, going from standby fight mode to a more passive Stewart. He leaned back in his chair and his shoulders dropped. The vein in his neck had stopped pumping vigorously.
“Wow. Okay.” He said. “I guess that makes it a bit easier. Thank you, both, for being so understanding. We know it will take some time to get used to it but I’m glad we’ve taken the first step.” There was another awkward silence and Sophie got up from the table.
“Thank you for lunch. I’m glad we had this talk.” She turned to Stewart. “Stew, I think it might be best if we go now. I can imagine Mum and Dad have a lot to talk about.”
44
“Well, well. You certainly know how to charm a woman,” Mel laughed. Sophie was in the hallway with a bottle of wine and an Italian takeaway. She took the bottle while brushing her lips against Sophie’s. “Thank you. For being so amazing.” She sighed. “I wish we were alone right now.” Sophie grinned and followed Mel into the living room, staring at her behind. Mel was wearing an oversized sweater and a pair of tiny shorts. She was one of the very few people Sophie knew who could wear anything and get away with it. She looked casually sexy, and it was terribly distracting. Sophie almost forgot that Isabella was on the couch. When she saw her, she bent down, leveling with her.
“Hi, Isabella. These are for you,” she said, taking a box of chocolates from out of her bag. Isabella sat up and adjusted the pillow behind her back.
“Thank you, Sophie. You’re a darling. Come here and give me a hug.” She reached for Sophie and grinned in Mel’s direction. “Did you hear that, Melzinha? These are for me, not you.”
“Just wait until you’ve had your next pain killer,” Mel shouted from the kitchen. “You’ll be zoned out, and by the time you wake up, they’ll be gone.” She came back in with three plates, two wine glasses, and cutlery.
“So, how’s the patient?” Sophie asked. “I’m glad the operation went well.” Isabella pulled a painful grimace while she shifted on the couch.
“Not too bad. I’m relieved I came out on the other end. It’s a scary thing you know, putting your life in someone else’s hands. I’m terrified of anesthetics.
“She was declaring her dying love for the surgeon when she woke up,” Mel said, laughing.
“Don’t make fun of me, Melzinha,” her mother said. She rolled her eyes. “I might have said something about him being handsome but he complimented me on my kimono, and I was confused from the medication they gave me.” She giggled. “The surgeon did a good job though; I’m grateful to him. I just need to keep taking the painkillers until the worst of the post-op bruising is healed. But in general, I feel good.” She lifted her shirt, revealing a medical corset. “Apart from this thing. It’s too tight, and I have to wear it for five weeks.” She sighed. “I don’t like to complain, but every time I eat, I feel like I’m about to burst. And you know how much I like to eat, don’t you, Sophie?” Sophie laughed and patted her on the shoulder.
“I know. But it’s probably tight for a reason. Just do what the doctor tells you to, and you’ll be able to eat whatever you want, wherever you want in no time.” Isabella nodded and put a hand on Sophie’s wrist.
“Enough about me. I heard you got the job. Congratulations, that’s great!”
“Thanks,” Sophie said. “It’s exciting. I already handed in my resignation, and I’ve got the feeling Mel will have my job soon.” She looked at Mel, who smiled back at her. Isabella’s eyes widened.
“Really, Mel? Are they giving Sophie’s job to you? Why didn’t you tell me?” Mel shrugged and smiled, showing off her dimples.
“Maybe, yes. I didn’t want you to get all worked up before your operation, so I kept it quiet. Let’s wait and see before we celebrate, but it looks like it.” Mel handed out the plates and opened the boxes of antipasti on the table.
“Mmm, let’s see what have we’ve got here… Artichokes, tomato and buffalo mozzarella, Parma ham, fennel and blood orange salad…” She opened the final box with a big smile. “And lots and lots of garlic bread. Good choice, Sophie. I’m proud of you.” She winked and scooped up some salad before taking a seat on the armrest of Sophie’s chair.
“Something strange happened today,” she said. Sophie raised an eyebrow.
“Good strange or bad strange?”
“Good strange.” She paused. “Your mother called me. At work.” Sophie leaned back in her chair and stared up at Mel in disbelief. Isabella’s mouth was gaping. For once, she was speechless too.
“My mother? I don’t believe that.” Mel nodded.
“She sure did.” She giggled at Sophie’s confused expression. “I can’t say I wasn’t surprised myself. She was nice to me. A bit strange maybe, but kind. She kept blabbing on about the refurbishment of her bedroom for some magazine spread as if she had no idea how to start the conversation or what to say to me in general. Anyway, we’re both invited for dinner tomorrow night. Your brother and Roberto will be there too.” Sophie stared at her before she burst into laughter, almost spilling the wine in her lap.
“Really? You’re serious, aren’t you? I can’t believe it. It doesn’t sound like my mother at all.” She frowned. “That must have been one awkward conversation.”
“A little bit,” Mel admitted. “But she’s making an effort and if she’s willing to try again, then so am I.” Sophie put her plate on the table and hugged her.
“Thanks, Mel. I appreciate it, but you don’t have to do that. I know she’s not your favorite person in the world.”
“No, Sophie. I want to do this. I’m determined for your mother to like me and I’m determined to like her back. Even if it’s just a little bit.” Isabella smiled.
“You have no idea how happy I am to hear that, Melzinha. See? I told you Sophie’s mother would come around, didn’t I? It was only a matter of time.” She smiled at Sophie, who was attacking the garlic bread. “Never underestimate a mother. They can be full of surprises.”
45
“Thanks for having me, Eleanor. I can imagine this might be as strange for you as it is for me.” Eleanor smiled, and Mel reminded herself not to stare at her. She was still getting used to Eleanor’s face that started leading a life of its own each time she tried to express her mood.
“Well, I thought it would only be appropriate to celebrate Sophie’s new job at Laurelai.” She yanked at the white cotton tablecloth, then rearranged it, pulling on either side until it was perfectly symmetric. Mel could tell she was nervous.
“Can I help you with anything?” She tried to make eye contact, but Eleanor looked down, avoiding her.
“No, thank you, dear. I think I can manage.” She sighed and sat down at the end of the table, resting her chin on her folded hands. She gestured for Mel to take a seat opposite her.
“Can we talk for a moment?” Mel nodded.
“Sure, no problem.” Eleanor rolled up her sleeves and sighed, bracing herself for a difficult conversation.
“I believe I owe you an apology for last time you were here. I’m so very sorry if I made you feel uncomfortable. That was never my intention. Sophie told me you were upset because of me and I’ve thought about it a lot.” She looked up, finally meeting Mel’s eyes. “You may not believe me, but I don’t usually speak to Marisol in that way. It was insensitive and rude, and I regret it.” She sighed. “I sensed this energy between the two of you. The way you both looked at each other, the way Sophie acted around you… A mother knows you know. It made me feel uneasy. I think that deep down, I knew something was going on, and I wasn’t myself that day. I want you to know that I’ve apologized to Marisol.” Mel nodded.
“And now? Are you still uncomfortable?” Eleanor thought about the question.
“I suppose so,” she answered honestly. “But I know I will get used to the idea eventually.” She nodded towards the sofa where Sophie’s father was reading his newspaper. “I expected David to have a meltdown, but he’s handled this whole situation a whole lot better
than me.” She paused. “I’m trying, Mel.” Mel took her hand over the table.
“Fine. Then let’s forget about it and move on. I can imagine it might be overwhelming when both your children suddenly come out.” She smiled at her. “Thank you for trying.”
Eleanor looked away. Her upper lip was still trembling. Mel could tell she was getting emotional and stood up from the table to make it easier for both of them.
“This looks great.” Roberto passed the potato puree to Sophie’s father, who seemed strangely at ease in the company of Roberto and Mel. Sophie regarded him from across the table. He scooped up a generous amount and passed it on with a content look on his face.
“Yes,” he said. “It certainly does. Eleanor is a great chef.” He winked at Marisol, who was just getting ready to go home for the day. “And it tastes even better without Deborah yapping in my ear.”
“Mmm, how do you get it so flavorsome?” Roberto asked, looking at Eleanor. “I can taste truffle and something a little more herby.” He lifted a finger. “Wait… I think I know. Is it tarragon butter?” Sophie and Mel watched his performance in amusement. They knew exactly what he was doing after informing him about Eleanor’s fake status as the master chef. But Eleanor held her own like she always had.
“Yes, I believe it is,” she lied. “I don’t do recipes, Roberto. I’d rather cook with my gut. Isn’t that what the Italians do?” Roberto nodded and dapped his mouth with his napkin.