by Rachel Cohn
"Good. Cuz I'm working on a special piece for you this weekend, to introduce you to a new idea I have about what we should do next year. I'll tell you about it when I pick you up at the airport tomorrow night."
"Tell me now!" Knowing that Shrimp was also thinking about variations on our plans to be East Bay people, I didn't feel so bad about my momentary lapse of considering a pitch for New York.
"Nope. You gotta wait. No words shall be spoken until the art is complete. Gotta run. Some guy here needs the phone." I would so buy Shrimp a cell phone if I didn't know he'd just toss it into the trash, or break it apart and use the parts for an art piece, like he did with the phone Wallace gave him that Shrimp turned into Cell Phone Interruptus-- smashed cell phone parts glued onto a crucifix with green-sprinkle acid rain falling from the top of the canvas.
Hearing Shrimp's mood brightened my spirits, so I decided not to be mad at Danny's potential manipulation, trying to weasel me to NYC so he could make me fall in love with this amazing city and this place in Chelsea that my eyes and fingers and taste buds were itching to experience.
"So great place, huh?" Danny said when he came out of the kitchen.
"Eh, whatever," I said.
What was not a great place was the "club" where
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Aaron's band was playing that night. The "club" was really a narrow pub with a tiny stage at the back, where no one in the place cared about the no-smoking rule and I couldn't imagine them caring about a band playing, either, cuz most of the patrons had their eyes fixed on the Knicks game on the television.
Aaron was sitting at the bar nursing a Guinness when we arrived that night. His long strawberry blond hair was thinning at the top of his head and cut short to just below his ears, falling around his face just enough to partly obstruct a new double chin. When he stood to greet us, I noticed there was a lot more pudge creeping out over his belt buckle than last summer, like he'd been on a diet of beer and complacency since Danny was no longer dragging him out of bed in the mornings to go running in Battery Park. Aaron hugged me but avoided eye contact, then he and Danny had an awkward moment where one tried to kiss the other on the cheek while the other went for a hug, then vice versa, ending with a weak handshake and a pat on each other's arms. They both looked like they knew this first meeting since the breakup, after almost a decade together, was something they had to get through, but they'd both be relieved when it was over.
Aaron's band, My Dead Gay Son, which used to be a motley group of guys he and Danny knew from college who got together to jam at The Village Idiots, with no favored music style, just a melting pot of covers--punk to soul to rock to show tunes--was now a nameless one in search of identity. Aaron said they were thinking of changing their name to Recession Apathy or Hamlet Syndrome, because a majority of the guys had lost their jobs or their wives or
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lovers in the last year, and none of them knew what they wanted to do with their lives, except play in a band. The band wasn't bad, focused primarily on alt-country type tunes, but rock stars these guys were not.
The last time I'd seen My Dead Gay Son play had been at The Village Idiots last summer, when the jammin' band sounded relaxed and fun. Listening to the dudes play now, tighter from more rehearsal time and with a focused repertoire of songs, was much less fun: They looked and sounded like a sad sack of nice fellows. The experience reminded me of Frank Sinatra Day back in December, when I'd worked the counter at Java the Hut after many months away. I wanted to experience Danny and Aaron as the great couple again, hanging with them at The Village Idiots while My Dead Gay Son warbled through covers just for fun, but everything was different. The past was over, done, finito.
There was nothing to do now but look ahead, because you can't force good times to come back, I suppose. Things change. People change. True love maybe can just fade away.
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*** Chapter 36
Easter brunch with Frank and lisBETH demanded no less than a shocking fashion statement from me. I went for the short skirt, sure, but the Goth getup and combat boots would not be adequate for this occasion. I wanted the full "bad girl" look to meet Frank's and lisBETH's impression of me as the wild love child. And what could be more shocking than a "bad girl" wearing a horrendously tasteful, pale pink Chanel suit swiped from her mother's closet, with the couture shoes to go along with, and sheer ivory stockings to complete the look? I'd blown out my hair to WASP straightness, added a headband, and placed a pendant around my neck--the heart-shaped Tiffany necklace Frank had sent me at Christmas, salvaged from the donations pile for the occasion. For makeup, I applied some baby powder to my cheeks to get that society-lady anorexic death glow, and I glossed my lips with a beige matte lipstick. Admiring myself in Danny's full-length bathroom mirror, I considered hanging on to this outfit for Halloween on Castro Street, where I could stroll through the parade introducing myself as Mrs. VonHuffingUptight and hand out museum docent guides to the crowds.
"We're late!" Danny shouted to me from the living room. "C'mon already, CC! I've never known you to be one of those girls who takes an hour to get dressed--what's the problem already?" My look complete, I went to the living
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room. Danny's face was cross until he caught a glimpse of me in front of him. Then he laughed so hard tears ran down his face and he fell off the sofa. He was still laughing when we got into the cab to take us to Frank's on the East Side.
We asked the driver to let us out a few blocks from Frank's building, because even though we were late we were both dreading this brunch, and also we wanted a little walk so we could admire all the church ladies strolling the avenue in their Easter dresses and fine hats. A guy we passed on the street tried to hand me a sticker. People are always trying to hand you something in Manhattan--advertisements for psychics, band gig flyers, Jesus-freak paraphernalia--so you get used to not reaching out when they try to push paper into your hand. The sticker this guy was trying to hand us said mean people suck , and I sidestepped him to turn it away, but Danny, who was getting tenser as we neared Frank's building, knocked the guy's hand away when the guy tried to shove the sticker in Danny's face. The sticker guy yelled after Danny, "You need this!" Mrs. VonHuffingUptight turned back around and told him, "No, you do, asshole." Mean People Suck sticker-givers are my new most-hated people, after the ubiquitous counter clerks anywhere you go now who have good karma ! tip jars at their cash registers. Perhaps I am a sucky mean person destined to walk through life without Good Karma! Oh, well. I accept my fate. Could you all go away now, please?
"Well done, Lady Cyd Charisse of New York City," Danny said.
Frank lived in an upscale high-rise condominium building where everything looked and smelled new and fresh. A lot of apartment buildings in New York are old,
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dank on the inside, and sooty on the outside, but Frank's was a relatively new building, flashy, with a lobby that had a chandelier, big floral displays, and gilded mirrors. The doorman knew Danny but did not remember me, perhaps because of my disguise, and he sent us up without buzzing Frank's apartment.
I was hella nervous as we rode the elevator up into the sky and then walked down the hallway to Frank's apartment. My visit last summer had ended up fine, in this epically disappointing kind of way. We all sort of got along by the end, but I also wouldn't say there was any grand love connection, except between me and Danny. It was like, Well, I met you all and I am glad I did and you are all sort of pains in the asses and you probably think I am too, but I think we can all agree we had some good moments together, and let's just leave it at that. Family, for better or for worse--though I'll take my real San Francisco family over you in a heartbeat. No need to send letters or cards or make regular phone calls or visits, just be well and I'll see you when I see you. Now here we would be, seeing one another again. I can rip on Frank and lisBETH plenty, but the fact of actual face time with them makes it harder for them to be caricatures in my head instead of live and in-the-flesh b
lood relations.
Frank opened the door. Geesh, he's tall and good-looking in that scary aging movie star way. Sometimes last summer I would sneak long looks at him when he wasn't paying attention, so I could etch his face into my memory. His face looked as I recalled--like mine--but I'd forgotten the sheer physicality of him: his height, his shiny black hair that should have the dignity to be graying or thinning at his advanced age (I bet he dyes it), his orange-tan skin (salon,
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for sure), how he sucks you in with the salesman's smile and his ease with people. Also he wears very fine, expensive suits. So does Sid-dad, but on him they look frumpy and wrinkled, endearing, but on Frank, full playa.
"Welcome!" he said. He looked genuinely glad to see us, or maybe it was the possible face-lift crinkling his smile. "Come in, Happy Easter." He had Easter baskets with our names on the hallway table for us, with chocolate bunnies and eggs swimming in that fake green grass stuff. Minor point score to Frank for effort.
"How ya doing, kiddo?" he asked me, patting me on the back instead of hugging me (relief). "You're looking well. And, ah, different. This is the first time I've seen you not wearing all black. You look good, kid, you look good." I felt pride and ick, like, Stop looking at me, you don't know me! Frank turned to Danny, gave him a stiff hug, and said, "We missed you at church this morning!"
Danny grumbled, "Well, I didn't get the memo about the Vatican embracing my people, so I'm gonna skip on the Catholic services for the time being. But I'm sure you and lisBETH had a lovely mass without me."
Frank looked like, 'Scuze me, sonny boy. I informed Frank, "I'm not any religion." Mrs. VonHuffingUptight is a natural diplomat.
I liked this moody Danny. If he was going to be the ornery one at the family brunch, that took all the pressure off me. Thanks, Danny!
Danny stepped inside the kitchen for some words with lisBETH in private. This brunch was the first time lisBETH had deigned to see him since Danny left Aaron, and Frank and I both stayed behind so they could have their first
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reunion in private. I sat down with Frank on the couch, and without realizing it crossed my legs in full Nancy pose. Frank and I didn't have much to say to each other, though, so Frank handed me a piece of the New York newspaper, folded and creased in straphanger style for easy reading on the subway. Frank pointed out a small article in the business section to me. I skimmed the article, which announced that Frank had retired from his job as CEO at the big New York advertising firm.
"Retired?" I asked him. Frank didn't strike me as the retiring type. In fact, he struck me as the type who will be chasing deals as actively as he's chasing skirts until he literally plunges into his grave, expired.
"Canned," Frank said. "'Early retirement' is a genteel way of saying, So what if I built the company up from nothing over the course of the last thirty years, transformed it from a small shop into an industry giant? Who cares about the loyalty and best years of my life I gave that company? The new CEO, my former protégé, and all his chums on the board, that's who doesn't care, lemme tell ya."
Mrs. VonHuffingUptight might have responded, Well, Frank, DAHling, there is a saying: What goes around comes around.
"What will you do now?" I asked him.
He smiled. He definitely gets his teeth whitened professionally. "The usual. Consulting. Golf. Tennis. Try to enjoy my life already. Get to know my kids. Got some time if your old man comes out to see you in California?"
Nancy has been pestering me to let her throw a graduation party for me. She wants to make over the garden area at the back of the house, with fantastic flower arrangements
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and a full-swing catered affair to commemorate the occasion. She said she would be open to inviting Frank to the garden party, if I wanted. But a lavish garden party seems like overkill for celebrating an occasion I'll be glad just to make it through but don't feel the need to observe further. And I'd sooner celebrate graduation alone with Shrimp than be trapped in a Pacific Heights garden party with low-cal hors d'oeuvres and phony expressions of congratulations from Nancy's friends shocked that I even graduated at all. Also the mere thought of My Two Dads sharing a scene, Nancy sobbing in pride between them, gives me the creeps. Danny could stay at our house, but I'm not ready for full integration yet. Garden party--pass.
"If you want," I said, but in this voice that said, Don't do me any favors, bub. But my eye caught the Easter basket on the table, and I remembered Frank's warm greeting when Danny and I came in. I knew he really was trying, so I figured I could a little too. "Sure," I amended, sounding nicer. "You could visit sometime."
Frank was clearly searching for something, anything, to say in the long, empty pause that followed between us, and what he came up with was, "So it's getting to be that junior prom time of year. Any special plans? Any fella you're sweet on?"
I touched the heart necklace he'd given me as a "sweet sixteen" Christmas present as I talked. "Well, Frank, as you may recall, I'm seventeen, not sixteen, and graduating, which means senior prom, not junior prom. And I go to an alternative school for freaks. The student council voted to abolish the prom on the basis of proms being a capitalist marketing tool like Valentine's Day, just another form of
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vicious propaganda intended to separate the haves from the have-nots. But even if there was a prom, Shrimp--that's my serious boyfriend, not just some 'fella'--and I would probably bail on it. Blech, prom. Not our scene."
"Oh," Frank said.
LisBETH and Danny emerged from the kitchen. LisBETH was also dressed in a Chanel suit, although hers was gold. A pink scarf with embroidered Easter bunnies on it held back her long locks of thick, curly, gray-specked black hair. "Don't you look pretty!" she said. The chiquita has no sense of irony. She didn't try to kiss or hug me, so I warmed to her right away. "You look very nice too," I said.
LisBETH had gone to great effort to set the Easter table with fine linens and good china, and she'd laid out a beautiful brunch with an Easter ham, shrimp and avocado salad, eggs, fresh biscuits, and fruit. She must have been up since the crack of dawn to put on this feast for us at her father's apartment. I associate family meals with noise--Ash and Josh banging utensils, arguing with each other, spilling drinks--so I was unaccustomed to a meal that, first off, started with Frank saying grace and then lisBETH leading some Easter prayer, and second, after we were seated, fell into polite silence. To kick start the conversation I asked lisBETH, 'Any cute guys come into the picture since I saw you last?"
LisBETH groaned. "My dear, there aren't any single, straight, well-to-do men in my target age bracket left in Manhattan. If it weren't for Aaron's company these last few months..." LisBETH shot Danny a mean look. "I am considering adopting a baby, perhaps from Asia or South America. Don't you think that would be fun?"
Ring, ring, lisBETH, time for your wake-up call. You
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have a big Wall Street job that requires you to travel all over the world, and you work like at least eighty hours a week. Adopting a baby might sound cute to you, but it won't be cute for baby who wants and needs attention! You're a workaholic, like Frank, and maybe you're not a dawg like him but you're not Superwoman, lady.
'And you," lisBETH said. "College plans?" Seriously, if I get asked that question one more time, I cannot be held accountable for my actions. I will lose it.
"Nah," I said.
"Maybe you just need a year off. Go to Europe for a year," she said.
"Nah," I repeated. "I am just not going to college. No joke. And there's plenty to keep me busy and happy in California." Shrimp, Shrimp, Shrimp, I miss you, can't wait to see you tonight at the airport!
Danny said, "I think she should go to culinary school here."
LisBETH snapped, "Oh, so then you could have your little princess sister all to yourself?" There we go, that's the vintage lisBETH we were waiting for. I don't know what's lisBETH's problem--it's not like she's tried to contact me or see me since last summ
er. She was probably mad because I've gotten Danny all to myself these past few months-- even though that's been by her choice.
Danny said, "Or we could all get to know her a little better, if she moved here and pursued the craft for which she has an innate talent."
I speared a piece of shrimp on my fork, dangled it in front of my lips for Danny to see, and ate it.
Frank, obviously wanting to move the conversation in
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a new direction, said, "Danny, how is Aaron doing? Have you seen him?"
"He's alright, Pops." I felt Danny's frustration--Danny wanted his father to ask him about his future plans, not his past.
"Well," Frank said. "I'll miss him at Thanksgiving." What the hell did that mean? Frank had no clue the hole he was digging for himself. "I still don't understand why you and Aaron couldn't work it out. So you two needed a break, needed to see other people. But that's over now. Why not give it another go?"
Danny slammed his fork onto his plate. "Is that what you want from me, Daddy, to be like you? Stay in a loveless marriage like you did after your affairs so everyone can be miserable?" Danny got up and left the room. Whoa!
Frank looked at me and lisBETH, as if he wanted to know, What did I say to deserve that? Truly Frank lives in the land of the completely clueless and he's never gonna get it unless someone shoves the clues down his throat. I don't know why I wanted to help him, but I did, probably because I don't like to see Danny hurting. I told Frank, "Go talk to him. He'll never ask you for help, but he needs your help. He left his long-term boyfriend for another man, then that didn't work out. He lost his business, practically lost his apartment, and now he's back home starting all over, broke and anxious and alone." Frank hesitated, his Handsome Man eyebrows furrowing as he contemplated my statement, like the obviousness of what I'd told him had never occurred to him. "GO!" I added.