What followed was possibly the worst dance spectacle set to a Michael Jackson hit ever choreographed by preteens and performed by forty-eight-year-olds. Charlie had forgotten most of the steps, and Biz could only use one arm because of her frozen shoulder, but they boogied and twirled just as poorly and robustly as ever. Even after Charlie pushed up his sleeves and Biz kicked off her shoes, they still danced like Fred and Ginger’s lesser-talented relatives. Grapevining and moonwalking themselves into an unattractive flop sweat, they giggled as the jitterbug and a bit of bus stop were triumphantly remembered. There were moves borrowed from Flashdance, Grease, Dirty Dancing, and Saturday Night Fever that were so bad they were unrecognizable to all but family.
Some onlookers laughed so hard they wept. The pair were dazzling in their commitment and ineptitude. When one of the New Hampshire guests asked Ruby and Gigi who was dancing, their response was earnest and simultaneous. Gigi said, “My dad and Aunt Cousin,” and Ruby said, “My mom and Uncle Dad.” The guest looked confounded but unruffled. At the historic conclusion, Biz and Charlie lay collapsed on the dance floor and the audience cheered like crazy. It was without a doubt one of Susan and Rah’s favorite wedding presents and sealed Biz and Charlie’s fate, publicly and forever.
While Charlie and Biz were still on their backs, catching their breath, Susan and Rah and a few others stopped by to compliment their abysmal choreography. They gave all credit to dancing school, then the music cranked up again and everyone’s shoes were kicked off into the grass. Still panting in a pool of their own sweat and lost dignity, she said to him, “You’re not going to believe what I’m about to tell you.” “What?” he said, feeling the joy of exhaustive fun for the first time in years—until Tindy’s voice interrupted them. “Great job, guys!” she cheered, making her way over. “Are you two professionals?” She wasn’t kidding; she spoke without irony. Biz quickly said to Charlie, “Stop by tomorrow morning. I’m going to blow your mind,” then kissed him on the lips, directly and purposefully, in front of Tindy and a reception full of loved ones no longer paying attention.
* * *
Charlie stopped by Biz’s first thing. He’d been awakened early by his mother, who called to ask if he’d had fun at the wedding, and to remind him he should live the life he wants to. This was his second chance, Cat said—don’t waste it. He thanked her before hanging up, though he hadn’t realized his mother liked Tindy so much or had even had the chance to know her. It felt like an odd chat for eight on a Sunday morning.
His head buzzed with anticipation as he knocked on Biz’s door, and he realized he was incredibly excited to see her. It took her a while to answer. “Hi,” she said, opening the door in her pajamas. She looked a wreck and sounded like Louis Armstrong.
“Is Ruby mine?” he asked, unable to feign detachment one second longer.
“Even better. But easy, cowboy, come in.” Biz’s hair stuck up funny in the back, and her eyes were pink and puffy.
“You’re sick,” said Charlie.
She waved him off. “Probably just coming down with a cold. Did you bring me soup?”
“I didn’t know you were sick, but I’m happy to go get you some.”
The cell phone in her hand buzzed. “Hold on a sec,” she said then looked at her phone. “Match.com.” Into the phone she said, “Oh, hey! That sounds super fun, but I can’t. I’ve got prior plans.” Then she reached outside the doorjamb and felt for the doorbell. She pressed it, and it went ding-dong just like in a cartoon. Into the phone she said, “That’s my ride, gotta fly. Talk to you soon,” and hung up. She looked blankly at Charlie. He looked back at her, incredulous.
“Is that to make men think you’re popular?” said Charlie. The idea of Biz dating other men was not sitting well, never did. He thought the two of them, after last night with their dance and that kiss … but maybe he thought wrong. What the heck’s going on?
Biz said, “Whatever it takes, my friend. Muriel taught me that one. Works like a charm.”
“On whom?”
“On everybody. Or at least everyone online. It’s a gullible demo out there, and at my age I’ve got to play every card trick I’ve got. How’s Tindy?”
“She’s, uh … she had a blast last night,” said Charlie.
It wasn’t what Biz had hoped to hear; her confidence started to slip. “You know what? Don’t tell me,” she muttered, and yanked last night’s clothes off the floor one piece at a time with her toes. “I have exciting news for you. Maybe you should sit down. You want breakfast?”
“You sit down. I’ll make it.” Charlie opened the fridge. “How about eggs and toast?”
“Perfect,” she said, sitting, light-headed but happy to be alone with him.
Biz watched Charlie cook, forcing herself to wish him and Tindy well. They’d lost Grandpa Dun, Dick, and Piper along the way, but they’d gained Gordon and Rebekah, Finn and Muriel, Gerard—and now Tindy. She thought about the circularity of her life and wondered if everyone’s worked that way—people reemerging from the past to play totally new and unexpected roles in the present. She wondered how many more randoms from her past were still likely to pepper her future. There was that old adage in show business about being nice to the people you meet on the way up because you’re going to see them again on the way down. Biz rewrote it in her head: “Be nice to the people you meet on the way up because you’re going to end up fucking some of them, and rooming with others, and they’re going to end up marrying your friends, and maybe moving in next door, and possibly ending up as your child’s pediatrician, or your cousin’s husband, so watch your step, pal, and be kind and forgiving to everyone.” Had a nice ring to it. Would make a good bumper sticker.
“So what’s the news?” asked Charlie. He was dying, trying to be casual.
“I’ll wait until we eat.”
“Tell me now. I can cook and listen at the same time.”
But it turned out Charlie could not. Biz told him about his birth mom, Aunt Peggy; his Grandmother Agnes; his sculptor dad; and the wily web that was woven. The butter burned while he took in the news, so Biz turned off the stovetop. “I don’t understand,” Charlie said over and over. Biz sat him down and answered his questions, summoning reserves of love and empathy for him she never knew existed.
“So then, you and I…” he said, stunned.
“Are not related by blood.”
“And Ruby…”
“Is your daughter by blood.”
“And you…”
Biz paused. “I’m your best friend.”
“Is that all?”
“I guess so. What about Tindy?”
“Didn’t work out.”
“Ya think?” Biz laughed. Charlie wanted to but was in shock. He wanted to jump and yell and high-five the sky, but instead he hugged Biz. It was a long grappling bear hug, and he buried his head into her neck as he cried tears of anger, joy, blame, and regret, wondering which one would trump the rest. Into her tear-moistened ear he said, “There’s an entire universe I’m feeling and things I want to ask my mother—and my conversation this morning with her is now making a lot more sense. But one thing that’s very clear is I love you, I have always loved you, and I think we should be together forever, starting right now.”
“Really?” asked Biz. Still, she worried. She knew Charlie was in shock and might not feel this way next week when all the news had a chance to sink in. “What if I’m too old?” she said. “Remember how broken I am? And I think I’ve forgotten how to have sex. I’m fairly certain my hymen has regrown itself.”
Charlie laughed loudly. “What if I’ve forgotten? I’m not who I once was…”
“Promise?” said Biz with a slight grin. She was tingling.
Charlie shook his head. “Back in the tree house I was nervous and didn’t, um, tend to you as well as I should have. I’d like the chance to try again,” he said kindly, and drank her in. She was pale with greasy hair and residual mascara under one eye, but he adored her with every fiber of
his being. Charlie reached for his iPhone, pulled up a song, and set the phone into her dock. The dreamlike reverie of the Stones’ strumming guitar on “Waiting on a Friend” filled the apartment, and Biz swooned. “Will you dance with me? For real and not jokey this time?” said Charlie, holding out his hand. The morning sunlight brightened the celery walls of Biz’s little kitchen as Mick Jagger whistled his friendly, beckoning tune. Biz took Charlie’s hand without reservation, held it as tightly as she could, and let him lift her into his arms to dance.
The playlist transitioned and they glided effortlessly into the living room during the Talking Heads’ “Naïve Melody,” and Keb Mo’s “Life Is Beautiful.” Biz felt like a breeze in Charlie’s arms, taken care of, safe and calm. They slow-danced circles around the coffee table and couch, then into Biz’s bedroom, until she was light-headed and had to sit. Charlie leaned her back in his lap and scratched her head and squeezed her neck, then rubbed her shoulders, down to her arms and wrists and fingers. Biz began to tear up—again. She hadn’t known a true love; his kindness was overwhelming, and she felt cherished.
Damn, these hormones are relentless, she thought. “Why are you being so nice to me?” she asked, dabbing her eyes with her pajama sleeve.
“Because I can be, now. And I want to take care of you. Because life is short.”
“And long, according to Nana Miggs.”
“It’s that, too,” Charlie said, then leaned her back up and turned to face her. “What if I asked to kiss you, not to practice for other people, or because I’m drunk, or horny, or scared of wanting you or losing you, but because I like you. And love you.”
Biz answered by closing her eyes. Charlie lifted the hair off her neck and kissed her just at the nape, behind the ear, until she weakened and jolted awake. He moved in to kiss her deeply, desiring to rediscover every part of her. He couldn’t believe he was here again with her—this person who had occupied so much space in his mind and body over the years. She’d never completely left him. And now he could devour her in small mouthfuls. Biz wanted to kiss him but didn’t have the energy, so she pulled him down onto her, wanting to feel his skin, and the full burden of his weight. She wanted this to happen, the scrape of his beard, the sound of his breath. She wanted the touch of his hands to soothe her, his mouth to take her in. She craved the fullness she had forgotten until now, but didn’t want to rush it. So she let Charlie do the slow work of unbuttoning every button on her pajamas. “You could help me, you know,” he smirked.
“I could,” she said, lying back down. With one precise touch from Charlie, Biz’s body flushed and her breath quickened. After the dips and swirls of his fingers, he used his tongue and she writhed with joy. Then he built her up slowly and shot her into space, hovering. When she knew she was close, Biz stopped and beckoned him to her. She wanted to make him writhe, too. She wanted him inside.
They realigned their bodies, her hands grabbing at him in fistfuls. She said, “I may not want to stop doing this anytime soon.”
“We can order takeout.”
“For the rest of our lives?”
It was the last thing either would say for a while.
He took his time with her topography, drinking in every wrinkle and mole, then made love to her slowly, giving Biz plenty of time to reach the sky. She muffled her screams and squeals while up there, waking no one in the building. Sparks of energy filled her head as if she’d been plugged in and switched on. She delighted at his climax, taking his weight once he finished, trembling under his embrace with aftershocks and quakes. With nowhere to rush to, they rolled off of each other and lay mooning in satisfaction’s shiny veneer. The air around them swirled like chalk dust fading in a classroom. They fell asleep in each other’s arms, and Charlie snored in peaceful slumber.
Biz grinned as she contemplated her long-awaited prize. She hoped she’d remember every minute thing that had just transpired. She’d already started to plan when it would happen again. To her, Charlie smelled and tasted like home. And to Charlie, Biz was his home.
Then Biz awoke giggling and madly kicked off the covers. She was flashing, her body’s core raging like an inferno. Charlie grabbed a magazine from the nightstand and fanned her until it subsided. This man’s a keeper, she thought. Then they rolled back toward each other and breathed each other’s exhales—compelled as new lovers, slightly worried it wasn’t real.
Charlie said, “You know, we could do this against the Ping-Pong table in the shed.”
Biz chuckled. “Oo, that’s an option. What about your projection room at the theater?”
“Ha. Really?” said Charlie. “There are so many possibilities…” and then he paused. He was overcome with the curious beauty of timing. They could finally stop running and stroll. Cousin or stranger, Biz was his partner, and he would never let her go again. And in Charlie, Biz saw the man she’d always loved and had quite possibly held out for—her former first cousin and partner for good. She rolled onto her side and looked into his eyes; they were moistening. “What, Charlie?” she said sweetly. “What’s going on?”
“I can’t believe how much time we’ve lost. I feel like an ass. I never should have married Piper. I should have waited until you forgave me—”
“Don’t say that. You wouldn’t have your kids. And maybe I wouldn’t have mine.”
“But why did we wait so long after my divorce? Why on earth did we keep caring what their friends would say or the people in this stupid town? We’ve been pathetic little children in grown-up disguises, trying to endlessly make our parents happy. We’re so dumb. Why did we give them so much power over our lives? We should have done what was right for us, not the right thing.”
“Who says the right thing for us isn’t the right thing?”
“Society,” Charlie said, and shook his head. “We shouldn’t have listened.”
“We were weak.”
“We were wimps.”
“Not anymore,” said Biz with bravado.
Charlie pounded a fist to his chest and said, “Strong like bull!” Then he brightened and whispered, “The linen closet.”
“Ha!” Biz shouted, hearty and strong. “Yes! The linen closet!” She propped herself up on an elbow. “How about this,” she said, “I’ll make a deal with you.”
“Anything,” said Charlie.
“I will love you forever and have sex with you anywhere.”
“I will take that deal,” he said, and kissed Biz sweetly on the mouth, without regard for the world and with permission from absolutely no one. Charlie thought for a moment, then said slowly with a Nana Miggs twinkle, “You know, ‘anywhere’ is a lot of places.”
They resumed making breakfast, feeling whole, these two, for the first time in ages, in a simple and obvious way. There were no lightning bolts, merely a knowing and calm, which took neither by surprise as they set the table. Biz felt like a better version of her former self, and Charlie felt like a man. A man wearing his best friend’s kimono and a dark brunette wig. Biz, of course, was wearing the Farrah.
A key turned the front door lock, and Ruby walked in. She was startled at the sight of a man’s back. She was also not expecting her mother to be wearing a blond shoulder-length wig with her pajamas. And, oh, her Uncle Charlie wearing one, too.
“Hey, honey!” said Biz awkwardly, reminding herself to be casual.
Ruby said, “Hi, uh … I guess I’ll start knocking first,” with a chuckle.
Biz said, “Always wise.”
“We found our old Charlie’s Angels wigs during your grandmother’s move.”
“I see that,” said Ruby.
“We can take them off, if you’d rather—”
“No, no. They look fetching.”
Everyone did their best to be relaxed as Ruby explained she was swinging by to pick up a few things before heading back to the city. Biz poured Ruby a glass of orange juice and asked her to join them for a minute. “Thanks, Mom,” Ruby said, and sat. Then Charlie placed a plate of scrambled eggs
in front of her, and she paused and said, “Thanks, Uncle Cousin Dad.” To which Charlie said, “Needs tweaking.” Biz said, “Speaking of which…,” and together they brought Ruby up to speed. She kept shaking her head as she listened, repeating, “Ohmygod, ohmygod, ohmygod.” At the end of the story, Biz leaned over and kissed Ruby on the cheek, then Charlie lightly on the lips.
“That’s going to take some getting used to,” said Ruby.
Biz said, “Sorry, honey.”
“No, it’s okay. It’s good. It’ll be fine. I’m happy for you both.”
“And I think this means you can call him Dad.”
“Is that chill with you?” Ruby asked Charlie.
“Sir Dad, if you don’t mind.”
“Oh, I mind,” she said with a chuckle.
Ruby moved on to explain how she and Miguel had spent the night in an Airbub refurbished tree house. “Clever idea,” said Charlie. “Wonder where that came from.” She described how magical it was waking up high among the trees, but there were spiders, and mosquitoes, and the birds’ songs woke them insanely early. “So most of the time it was pretty uncomfortable, but in the end, we decided it was worth it.”
Charlie caught Biz’s eye and said, “That about sums up life, kid.” “More than you’ll ever know,” added Biz. Then they grinned as they took in their beautiful child—so full of typical, everyday promise, rough edges, and exquisite imperfections.
“Here’s to my former niece and new daughter,” gushed Charlie, raising his glass.
“Here’s to my not-so-secret dad,” Ruby said and raised hers.
Biz said, “And here’s to the family I always wanted and sort of had all along. And, yes, we’re a little unconventional. And we’ll probably keep screwing things up, but we’re doing the best we can—which is to say, not the best, but our Thornden best. And, so, cheers.” Biz started to raise her glass, then remembered her frozen shoulder. She winced in pain, started to flash, and laughed. “I give up.” Charlie pulled off her wig and fanned her with it. Ruby grabbed her napkin and fanned her, too. Biz managed to clink glasses as Charlie beamed. “There is definitely no one like you.”
Twisted Family Values Page 31