by Beth Burnett
Here she is, promptly at 1:00. She flounces into the office, followed by Cindy, a volunteer who answers phones and acts as a kind of secretary. “Davey, your mom.”
“Thanks for bringing her in.” I give Leah a kiss. “Leah, you look great.” She does, too. She’s got her hair as sleeked back in some kind of intricate braid. And she’s wearing a simple white peasant dress that looks fantastic on her.
“Darling, it’s so wonderful to see your office. I’ve heard so much about it.” She looks over to where Steve and Erik are sitting together, looking thrilled. “Oh, hello boys!”
“Leah,” Steve says, standing up and coming over with both hands out. “Steve Hoover. I am so pleased to meet you.”
“Erik Scott,” Erik says, elbowing Steve out of the way. “How is it that we’ve known Davey for so long and she’s never introduced us?”
Leah smiles. “Well, I was in Tibet for a while.”
“Tibet?” Steve looks shocked. “What were you doing there?”
“Backpacking with a disillusioned corporate banker,” she replies.
Steve looks impressed.
Erik chimes in. “Leah, you are even more beautiful than I imagined.”
Oh for fuck’s sake. Two gay guys fawning over my mother. This is so new.
Leah giggles and shakes hands with both of them. “And I had no idea that Davey worked with two such gorgeous young men!”
“Young?” Steve is simpering. “She called me young!”
“She called us young,” Erik corrects.
Leah looks around. “I’m so proud of what you all do here,” she says, putting her hand on Steve’s arm. “But aren’t you worried about the protesters?”
Steve shrugs. “We aren’t Planned Parenthood. For some reason, the ignorant rednecks tend to leave us alone. Not that we don’t occasionally get some low-life standing in front of the building yelling about God hating fags, but they’re pretty few and far in between.”
Leah takes his hand. “God doesn’t hate anyone. Except maybe those protesters.”
Erik puts his arm around Leah. “Leah, please say that you’ll come to lunch with us.”
“Darlings, any other time, I would. But today I have something important to discuss with my daughter.”
Important? Great. I thought this was a social call. I take Leah’s arm and lead her to the door.
“Bye, guys.”
“Bye, ladies,” Steve blows us a kiss. “Leah, I hope we can see you again soon!”
She winks and waves her fingers as we walk out the door.
We take a seat at Polly’s. I debate for about a minute, but settle on the veggie burger. I’m proving I can be good. Besides, who knows what concoction my grandmother will have going on tonight. When I called her to let her know that Danny is a vegan, she was a little confused. She’s had a lot of years to get used to vegetarianism. Veganism is a new one to her. Anyway, first I have to get through lunch with my mother. I study her as we wait for our food, looking for clues to the big important talk. Finally, I can’t stand it.
“Leah, what’s going on?”
She grins at me, suddenly looking all of about twenty-five years old. “I had my first lesbian encounter last night!”
“Oh my god!” I yell. “Is everyone on this planet getting laid except me?”
Several people at the other tables call back that they are. I bury my face in my hands, blushing deep red. Leah is laughing hysterically.
“Oh sweetie, come on. It’s not that big a deal.”
“Leah. Let’s be quite clear here. I do not have a problem with you having sex with a woman. I don’t have a problem with you having sex with anyone. I just really don’t want the details.”
“Pshaw.” She shakes her head. “You’re too uptight. Sheila says you act repressed as a sort of strange rebellion against my ultra-free spirit.”
My voice is rising again. “Just because I don’t want to sit around with a bunch of women looking at my snatch with a mirror does not make me repressed!”
“You tell her, girlfriend!” Bradley yells from behind the bar. I’m saved from answering by the waitress bringing food.
“Davey, Sheila is truly an amazing woman. I think you could learn a lot from her. I definitely have a crush on her, that’s why I decided to go along with it when she came on to me.”
I have to ask. “So, did you like it?”
She leans in close and lowers her voice to a whisper. “I liked it when she was doing me. Then again, that always has been my favorite part of sex. I hate giving blow jobs. And the penetration part is usually over so fast, it doesn’t do much for me. Always insist that a man go down on you before you do him, Davey, because once he gets it in you, it is all about him.”
I close my eyes and take a deep breath. “I’ll keep that in mind. So are you and Sheila an item now?”
“Oh, hell no. I’m not a lesbian. No, it was fun, but we’re going to have to just be good friends.”
“Hey, now you can make another check mark on your bucket list.”
Leah laughs. “Exactly. It just wasn’t my cup of tea. Besides, I really wasn’t very good at it. I have a good understanding of where the clitoris is, but for some reason, once I had my face buried down there, I just couldn’t really find it with my tongue.”
The people at the tables to either side of us have stopped eating and are actively listening to our conversation. I’m staring at my mother in horror, speechless. I can’t even begin to think of what to say to her.
“Anyway,” she continues. “I kind of just put my finger inside of her, since that was easy enough to find and then stuck my tongue out and kind of flailed around for a while until she started to moan. I mean, I did give her a orgasm, thank God! It would have been embarrassing if I couldn’t.”
I risk a glance around. The guy to my left has his fork halfway to his mouth. He is staring at Leah, transfixed. The male and female couple on the other side are giving her sidelong glances. The man looks disgusted, the woman looks intrigued. I bring my attention back to Leah who is obliviously spearing salad greens with her fork.
“Leah,” my voice catches. I clear my throat and try again. “So. Yeah.”
She looks up. “Relax sweetheart. It’s just oral sex.”
“On a completely different note, I’m going to Gram and Gramps for dinner tonight.”
“Good for you. Have fun, tell them I said hello and all that jazz. You know.”
“They miss you.”
She waves her hand dismissively. “I’ll go over and see them at some point.”
“Leah, they do love you, you know. And they’re not getting any younger.”
“They’ll be fine. Trust me, they’ll probably outlive me.” She shakes her head. “At any rate, we better get going. Sheila and I want to have a get together with a few of the ladies from class. Now that I know you’re not going to be home, I can have it at our place.”
Our place. I start to ask her when she thinks she might be moving out, but there’s no point. She’ll go when the fancy takes her and there is absolutely nothing I can do to speed the process.
“Incidentally,” she adds, as we get up to leave, “one great thing about a strap-on is that it stays erect forever.” She smiles toward the man at the next table. “And no jizz.”
We’re both left staring after her as she strides out of the restaurant.
“No jizz?” Steve is wiping tears from his eyes. “No jizz. Ah, God. Ah, I’m dying. I’m in love. I am seriously in love with your mother.”
Erik leans back in his chair, laughing uproariously. “I love the flailing around with the tongue thing. That’s how I felt when I tried to be straight way back in the day.”
I shake my head. “You wouldn’t have found it so funny if you were the ones sitting at the table with her.”
Erik disagrees. “Yes, we would. And you would have too, if she wasn’t your mother. Think about it, if it had been Andy saying it, you would have thought it hilarious.”
&
nbsp; I ponder for a second. Maybe he’s right. Maybe I find her embarrassing because she’s my mom.
“Besides,” Steve adds, “you’re forty years old. You don’t need a mommy. Embrace her as a friend.”
“You’re right, you’re right. I will. I will make more of an effort to enjoy my psychotic mother.”
“That’s the spirit.” Erik is still giggling. “At least she was able to make her come. That’s not one of my claims to fame in the hetero department.”
“Oh God,” I’m laughing. “Your poor girlfriends.”
“There was only one. Molly Torrance. She was an outcast and I was her best friend. I didn’t want to be gay, she didn’t want to be lonely. It could have worked.”
Steve butts in. “Except that you are a ’mo.”
“Obviously. But at the time, I was trying not to be. As an effort to fit in. Plus, my dad was so disappointed in me. He was thrilled when Molly and I started dating.”
Steve looks solemn. “Davey, you have no idea how lucky you are to have Leah. Think of how many poor homos you know with evil parents. And here Leah is, just wasted on a straight daughter.”
I laugh. “I know, I should have been a lesbian. Or at least Leah should have had a couple more kids. She might have gotten a gay one by the laws of averages.”
Steve looks at me sideways. “So were you freaked out by the fact that Leah had sex with a woman.”
“Never in life. You know me better than that. I don’t care who has sex with whom. I just don’t particularly want in-depth details when it’s from my mother. To be fair, I don’t want to hear about her sucking on some guy’s knob, either.”
Erik nods. “I wouldn’t want to think about my mother and oral sex, either.”
“Well, your mother looks like Mrs. Roper.”
“Fair enough.”
“On a different note,” Steve says. “You’re leaving early for your date tonight?”
“Date?” Erik shrieks. “They’re going to Grandma’s! That isn’t a date, it’s a death sentence for the relationship.”
“No it isn’t! Danny said he wanted to go!”
“Of course he did,” Steve interrupts. “He’s gay. Gay men love going to dinner at Grandma’s.”
“I’m not getting into this again. He is not gay. Maybe he has something he needs to talk to me about, but that is not it. And I would really appreciate if you two would shut the fuck up about it.”
“Sir, yes, sir!” Erik salutes, then turns back to his computer.
Steve isn’t deterred. “Just try to work Liza Minnelli into the conversation tonight.”
I’m getting sick of this. I wish I had never talked to anyone about Danny and me not having sex. I mean, really, this dinner with Gram and Gramps is technically only our fourth date. Yes, we have an intense connection, but it is our fourth date! Lots of people don’t have sex by the fourth date. There is nothing wrong with waiting a while to make sure of each other.
I fume for a while as I settle into my work. Finally, I’ve had enough, so I kiss the boys goodbye and head for home. I wonder if everyone kisses their co-workers. Maybe it’s just one more advantage of working with gay men. They really are so much easier to love than straight men. Well, except for Danny. He is truly easy to love. He’s gotten in, somehow.
I carefully choose my outfit. On the one hand, I want to look good for Danny. On the other hand, it is dinner at my grandparent’s house. Why am I doing this? You should not take someone to your grandparent’s house on the fourth date. This is ridiculous. I should call him and cancel. Or call my grandparents and cancel. No, knowing them, they’ve been getting ready for this all day. I put on my best fitting jeans and a v-neck t-shirt. Not too much cleavage, but just a hint, for Danny’s sake. I add just a hint of lip gloss and nothing else. Hair gets a little spiked. I check the mirror. Looking good.
Danny knocks at five twenty-five.
“Come in,” I call from the bedroom. He appears in the bedroom door a few moments later.
“You shouldn’t leave your door unlocked. What if I was a serial killer?”
“In Westlake? Come on.” I walk across the room and he puts his arms out to hold me.
Barefoot, I stand a few inches shorter than he does. I nestle my head against his neck and he wraps his arms tight around me.
“I missed you today,” he whispers in my ear.
“Me too,” I murmur with my lips against his neck. He squeezes me tighter and presses his lips against my hair. I lift my face and he lowers his mouth to mine, pressing his lips lightly against mine, gently parting my lips to let his tongue slide in. He lets his fingers trail over my neck.
I let out a breath. “Let’s skip dinner.”
He grins. “Are you kidding? I don’t want to ruin the sexy nature of our relationship. First, dinner with your mother and the sex therapist, now dinner with the grandparents. What could be next?”
“Don’t even say things like that, it could always get worse!”
He takes my hand as we walk to the car, opens the door and guides me in.
We don’t talk much on the way to Gram and Gramps, other than to discuss directions. When we’re almost there, I ask if he’s nervous.
“Actually, yes.”
“Danny, why?”
He glances at me, then back to the road. “Davey, I don’t know what happened when we met, but I think I knew from the first moment I saw you that you were special. And when you started arguing with Ted, the douche-bag, I was hooked. Then you called me an angel…”
I laugh, embarrassed. “I had forgotten. I thought, and still think, that you have the face of an angel. It’s perfect. Strong and beautiful.”
He takes my hand and kisses it. “Besides your obvious need of corrective eye surgery, you are perfect. You…”
“Whoa, wait. Danny, stop,” I interrupt. “Don’t make the mistake of thinking I’m perfect. Then when I screw up, you’ll be doubly disappointed.”
“Corrected then to perfect for me.”
“I can live with that,” I say.
He kisses the inside of my wrist. “The point is that we’ve only had four dates, yet for the life of me, all I can think about is you curled up in my armchair, reading a book, being completely comfortable in my house.”
“I’ve figured it out. You’re a lesbian.”
“What?” Danny looks shocked.
“The old joke? What does a lesbian bring on a second date? A U-haul.”
Danny squeezes my hand. “Davey, I’m being serious here.”
“I know you are. I know it. I’m just … I … It’s scary for me. I don’t know that I’ve ever felt this way about someone and certainly not this fast. I’ve dated before. I mean, I’m not trying to say that I’ve never had relationships before, I have. And I’ve had long-term relationships before. But they all seem to have a definitive pattern — you know, meet, date several times, decide to be exclusive, have sex, maybe that part is reversed but regardless…” I pause. “Stop talking,” I mutter under my breath. “The point, Danny, is that I’m just afraid if we get too intense, too fast, it will all come crashing down.”
We pull into the driveway of my grandparents’ house. Danny squeezes my hand again. “We’re already too intense.”
He comes around to open my car door, grabs the beer and we walk up the long, curved sidewalk to the front door. Gram opens the door looking like a model for Senior Golfer Magazine. She’s wearing white pleated pants, a gold scoop neck top, pearls, and sensible heels. Her hair is frosted to that particular shade of old lady blonde. She looks good, but I’m pretty sure she’s had Botox recently.
“Sweet, darling. It’s so good to see you. And you look so good, so healthy!”
I introduce her to Danny and she smiles at him warmly. “It’s so good to meet you. Davey hasn’t brought a boy to meet us since 1993.”
“Thanks, Gram,” I say sarcastically.
We walk into the living room, where Danny hands over the beer to Gramps.
“Excellent choice, son,” my grandfather bellows. “Mattie, my love, will you put this in the fridge?”
Gram takes the beer while Gramps hugs me and shakes hands with Danny. I check him out as we all sit. He’s such a dashing man, tall and muscular. His hair is completely white, but full and thick. He has a light tan, probably from all the golf he and Gram have been playing. Unlike Gram, Gramps has not had any work done. His grizzled face shows the laugh lines of a lifetime.
“Gramps, what’s up? You’re looking really buff!”
He flexes a bicep. “I’ve been doing P90X!”
“P90X! Gramps, you’re seventy-nine years old.”
He shakes a finger at me. “It’s never too late to get cut,” he says.
Cut? I shake my head, grinning. I love my grandfather.
“Well, you look fantastic.”
Gram pokes her head in. “Everyone head to the dining room table, dinner is on.”
We walk into the dining room and the food is piled high on the table.
Danny clears his throat. “Mrs. Carter, this looks like enough food to feed an army.”
“Well, you’re a growing young man,” she says with a wink. “And my husband needs a lot of calories to fuel his high-intensity workout program.”
I laugh. “Gramps, I have P90X. I keep thinking about doing it, but I never do. God knows I need to do something.”
Danny shakes his head. “You’re beautiful the way you are.”
Gramps agrees. “Besides,” he says, “Girls are supposed to be curvy.”
“Except butches,” Gram chimes in.
Danny laughs. “Well, true, Andy is pretty cut.”
“She’s more muscular than you are, Danny.” Gramps doesn’t hold back his opinions.
“I know, I know. She could definitely take me in a fair fight.”