Olive Oil and White Bread

by Georgia Beers

  The funeral itself had been a blur. Much quicker than Angie—a Catholic used to long masses and services—had expected. Then she stood by feeling useless while Jillian talked and smiled and greeted people for as long as she could until finally tugging her partner into a corner, she uttered seven words that gave Angie something she could do.

  “Get me the hell out of here.”

  They’d come home, changed into comfies, and cuddled on the couch. They’d been there ever since, just breathing, just being together. Boo paced and circled, sensing Jillian’s sadness, wanting to help. She came up on the couch, licked a stray tear off Jillian’s cheek, lay down with her head on Jillian’s thigh, where she’d remain for a few minutes before pacing some more.

  I know just how you feel, sweetie, said Angie to Boo when the dog made eye contact. She tightened her hold on Jillian and spoke aloud. “Honey, you should eat something.”

  “Not hungry.” Jillian’s voice was gravelly.

  “I know, but I still think you should eat. You’ve hardly put a thing in your belly in days.” When Jillian inhaled, about to protest, Angie interrupted her. “And no, the three spoons of yogurt this morning don’t count.” Jillian blew out the breath in defeat. “How about some scrambled eggs?”

  It wasn’t really a question, but Jillian gave a curt nod. “Okay.”

  “Come and sit while I cook.”

  In the kitchen, Jillian sat on a stool, propping her elbows on the counter with her chin in her hands.

  Angie pulled eggs, tomato, cheese, and spinach from the fridge, determined to get as many vitamins and minerals into the meal as she could. Frying pan on the stove, butter melting in it, she quickly chopped the tomato, then the spinach, surprised when Jillian spoke.

  “It’s so weird.”

  What could she say to that? It was totally weird. It was absolutely weird. She grimaced and nodded.

  “My mom’s gone.”

  Angie glanced over her shoulder, expecting another breakdown, but Jillian was the most dry-eyed she’d been all day, picking at a spot on the counter with a thumbnail.

  “I mean, we had our issues. It’s not like we had this super fantastic relationship…” Jillian began.

  It was the most she’d said in two days, so Angie let her talk.

  “She could be a total pain in my ass. And she was. Often.”

  Angie sautéed the tomatoes and spinach in the butter, nodding encouragingly.

  “She did not handle the gay thing well.”

  “If you consider ignoring it completely the same as not handling it well, then yes, she did not handle it well.”

  Jillian barked what almost sounded like a laugh. “Exactly.”

  Angie cracked the eggs into the pan, stirred them into the veggies.

  “I was hoping she’d come around eventually. I was hoping time would help, you know?”

  Angie glanced over and this time, Jillian seemed to expect a reply. “I know, babe.”

  “And now there isn’t any. There isn’t any more time.”

  “I know.”

  “It’s not fair.”

  “No, it’s not.”

  “It fucking sucks.”

  “Big time.” Angie added the cheese, let it melt, then scooped the eggs onto two plates. She fished two forks out of a drawer and set the plates at the breakfast bar, side by side.

  “My mom’s gone, Angie.”

  “I know, honey. I’m so sorry.”

  Jillian exhaled, picked up a fork, and stabbed at her eggs.

  1997

  Semi-Charmed Life

  Thirteen

  “Am I going to be the only straight girl there?” Maria gave her sister Angie a look of hesitation as she passed the plate of meatballs to her left. “I don’t want to be the only straight girl there.”

  “I promise I won’t let any of my friends hit on you,” Angie said, coupling her words with an eye roll and sending the meatballs on to her mother. “I can’t make any promises, though, what with you being all irresistible and stuff.”

  Across the table, Angie’s father grinned. Dom barked a laugh.

  Maria laughed and swatted Angie with her napkin. “I’m sorry. That was ridiculous. You know how I am around new people. I just get all nervous and jerky.”

  That was true. For every ounce of gregariousness Angie had, Maria had an equal amount of reserve. In a group of people she knew well, nobody would ever accuse the youngest Righetti of being shy. But surrounded by strangers, she clammed up and needed to be coaxed into conversation. Angie had spent much of their childhood serving as the transition-easer between her little sister and potential new friends.

  “You’ve probably met a lot of them. Tinny from Jillian’s softball team, you’ve met her. She’s coming with her girlfriend. You’ve met Shay and Laura. They’re bringing a couple friends with them. Hope from my office will be there.”

  “I love Hope!”

  “Who doesn’t? Kevin and Keisha, our new neighbors are coming. And the Kleins from across the street. Brian might come, and Jillian’s friend from work. And any of you guys are welcome.” She made a circular gesture with her fork to include her parents and big brother. Turning back to Maria, she went on. “It’s going to be fun, and I just need you to help me with food. I told Jillian she wouldn’t have to worry about feeding the company, she can just relax and enjoy the show, but I can’t do it by myself. I’ll freak out. I need your help. Please? Pretty please?”

  “All right. All right.” Maria put her hand up, palm out. “Stop begging. It’s beneath you.”

  Angie threw her arms around her sister. “Thank you.”

  “I still don’t understand why an episode of a sitcom deserves a party.”

  “Because it’s a milestone,” Angie’s mother said, causing Angie to smile and silently thank the stars above for the amazing family she’d been born into. “Right, Angelina?”

  “It’s huge,” Angie agreed, turning to Maria. “No lead character has ever come out on television before. Ever. There has never been a show with a gay or lesbian lead character. It’s unprecedented. It’s a very, very big deal.” She saw her father nodding as he ate. “Pop, you want to come to our ‘Ellen’s Coming Out’ party?”

  He chuckled. “I think your mom and I will watch it here. You kids have fun. And watch your drinking.” He added the last line in the same stern voice he had used when Angie was in college, poking his fork at her for emphasis.

  “That’s why it’s at my house. So I don’t have to go anywhere.” She tapped her temple. “My mama didn’t raise no dummies.”

  “Angelina,” Alice said. “How does Jillian like volunteering at the art museum?”

  “Loves it,” Angie said around a mouthful of bread. “She’s helping with tours now, did I tell you?” She grinned, proud of her girl.

  “Really?”

  “They needed an additional person who knows about art to help with visiting groups. She’s having a blast, although she hates missing Sunday dinner.”

  “Well, we’ll make sure to pack up a plate for her when you leave.” Alice had been subtle but Angie had noticed the extra attention she’d been giving Jillian since the death of her mother. Had Jillian? Alice turned to her son. “And one for Pam, poor girl.”

  Dominick’s wife of two years was seven months pregnant and relegated to bed rest for the remainder of her pregnancy to avoid further complications. He didn’t like to leave her alone, but she insisted he visit with his family on Sundays. Angie watched her brother’s brow crease slightly and knew he was trying to hide his worry. Their parents tried not to get overly excited, but sometimes, Angie thought her father’s face might explode from trying to tone down his grin. It wasn’t just his first grandchild; it was his first grandchild from his eldest son. She was excited too: this would be her very first niece or nephew. She hadn’t expected the idea of being an aunt to be so . . . wonderful.

  “How’s she feeling?” Angie asked Dom.

  “She feels okay; she’s just bore
d out of her skull.” He shook his head. “We’ll both be happy when this is all over.”

  “Won’t be long now,” Joe said. “Just think, in twenty-five years, you too can be having a dinner like this every Sunday at your house.” He waved his butter knife around the table.

  Dominick smiled through his worry. “I should be so lucky, Pop.”

  “You let me know if she needs anything,” Alice ordered him. “I can come right over.”

  “I know, Mama. I told her. Thanks.”

  Nobody asked after Tony, though it crossed Angie’s mind. Her brother was in one of his phases again, the kind where he’d submerge himself too deeply in whatever he was into at the time: alcohol, coke, weed. He’d show up again eventually. They were having a pleasant enough dinner; she didn’t want to ruin it by poking at her parents’ open wounds.

  Angie had a moment as they cleaned up where she felt almost removed as she observed her family, like she wasn’t there and was watching from afar. She watched her big brother flick soapy water at their little sister, who giggled and tried to snap him with a dish rag. Alice popped the lids closed on Tupperware containers so she could feed her missing children as Joe put a hand on her shoulder and kissed her cheek.

  Do you have any idea how lucky you are?

  She could still hear Jillian’s voice from the first time she’d taken her home with her to Sunday dinner, amazed, almost bewildered as she stressed to Angie that most normal people would kill to have the family Angie did, quirks and all.

  She knew how right Jillian was.

  It wasn’t perfect. Of course it wasn’t. How could it be? Nothing was. Joe had a short temper and a long memory and could hold a grudge better than his great-grandmother (and that was saying a lot). Alice didn’t always know when to leave well enough alone. Dominick was bossy and could come off like a know-it-all, and before Pam, he’d gone through women like toilet tissue. Maria was far too comfortable in her parents’ home, so much so that Angie sometimes wondered if she’d ever move into her own place. And Tony . . . yeah. There was Tony.

  So, no. They weren’t perfect. They were absolutely imperfect. But they loved each other unconditionally, and it wasn’t until Jillian had pointed it out to her, until Angie had recognized the blatant indifference or frequent hostility of Jillian’s family—her mother in particular—that she’d really begun to grasp just what a gift she’d been given.

  “Here, sweetie.” She was yanked out of her reverie by her mother handing her a Tupperware dish. “You give Jillian a hug for me.”

  “I will, Mama. Thanks.”

  Thanks? It could never be enough.

  Fourteen

  “You guys have about twenty minutes before the show starts,” Jillian said to Angie as she hugged her from behind, her arms tight around Angie’s middle.

  “No problem,” Maria told her, pulling a tray of stuffed mushroom caps from the oven. “I’ve got one more sheet to deal with, and we’ll be all set.”

  “Man, you don’t mess around, Maria. When we said hors d’oeuvres, I was thinking cheese and crackers and some chips. Our guests are very impressed. The bacon-wrapped chicken bites were a huge hit.”

  “And that’s why I asked for her help.” Angie kissed Jillian quickly on the lips. “How’s it going in there? Everybody having fun?”

  Jillian nodded. “It’s great. I can’t believe it’s really happening.”

  The news coverage had been nonstop, and Jillian had been following it for weeks. Magazine covers, talk shows, news reports. While it was fairly common knowledge that Ellen DeGeneres was a lesbian, she had never openly, publicly announced any such thing. Eventually, and apparently tired of being grist for the rumor mill, she decided to put the entire subject to rest once and for all. In just over fifteen minutes, the lead character she portrayed in her sitcom, Ellen, was going to come out. On national television. For the first time ever. Ever.

  Jillian stood on the threshold between the kitchen and living room. Perched on an arm of the couch was Kevin Webster and his wife, Keisha, leaning against him. They were a young newlywed couple who’d moved into the house next door just three months ago. They were friendly, fun, and open, coming over for dinner, the fact that they’d moved in next to a lesbian couple not fazing them at all. Tinny, from softball, sat in the corner of the couch, sipping a Labatt’s Blue Light. Her current girlfriend—they changed on a frequent and regular basis—sat in her lap. Deb was a tiny little thing with a nose ring and a buzz cut. The rest of the couch was occupied by Mike Klein and his wife, Gina. They lived across the street and had been the first people to welcome Jillian and Angie to the neighborhood by bringing them an apple pie hot out of the oven. On the floor near Gina’s feet, leaning her back against the couch, sat Marina, and Jillian thought she looked less like an elementary school teacher and more like an old friend. Their initial bond from that first year of teaching had only solidified, and Marina had told Jillian in no uncertain terms that she wanted to be with her for the “big reveal,” as she called it. Boo was stretched out next to her, her head on Marina’s thigh, totally in love judging from the look in her brown eyes. Next to Marina sat Hope, the two of them with their heads bent close, lost in conversation. In the overstuffed chair in the corner, Shay sat comfortably with a glass of white wine while Laura perched on the arm of it, beer in one hand, her arm around Shay’s shoulders. Jillian’s brother Brian stood at the end of the couch, quietly taking it all in, but smiling just the same.

  Jillian’s heart warmed as she moved her gaze from one person to the next, marveling that there were more straight than gay people in the room. But that was typical, wasn’t it? There were many more straight people in the world, so it made sense. The important point was that these people loved her. They loved Angie. And they loved the two of them as a couple. That was the most important factor. She and Angie had managed to surround themselves with people who loved them together.

  Her eyes misted.

  “Hot stuff coming through!” Maria bumped Jillian out of the way with a hip so she could set a plate of goodies on the coffee table.

  “Yeah, but what about the food?” Jillian asked with a wink.

  “More food?” Kevin said, happily bewildered. “I might just move in.” He grabbed a mushroom cap and popped it into his mouth.

  “Wouldn’t be long before you weighed three hundred pounds,” Keisha teased him.

  “Only if Maria moved in, too,” Angie joked, coming up behind Jillian and wrapping her in an embrace. In her ear she whispered, “You okay, babe?”

  Jillian cleared her throat and nodded. “I’m great.”

  “Here.” Angie held a glass of wine in front of her.

  “Is it weird that I’m nervous?”

  “Not at all. I am too.”

  As if overhearing them, Laura looked over at them and said, “I’ve got butterflies.”

  “So do I,” Marina chimed in. “And I’m not even gay.”

  “Same here,” Hope said with an infectious grin. “It’s so exciting!”

  Deb stood up. “Before we get caught up, I’d like to propose a toast.” She held up her beer; the rest of the room followed suit. “To Jillian and Angie, for opening their home to us, to all of you who are here to celebrate with us, and to Ellen DeGeneres for making history.”

  “Cheers!”

  Moments later, the show began.

  It moved along at seemingly breakneck speed, despite Jillian willing it to slow down so she could savor. The writing was tight and snappy. She laughed out loud on several occasions, along with everyone else. Laura Dern playing Susan, an out lesbian, made the fictional Ellen Morgan question her own sexuality. Jillian watched Ellen be told by Susan that she gave off a “gay vibe,” then try to reject that ridiculous notion by throwing herself at a man, before finally talking with her therapist about her confusion—and she wondered how many lesbians watching right that moment had gone through exactly the same thing. She was lucky that she’d understood and accepted her own sexuality at a
fairly young age. But she knew many lesbians who hadn’t come out until their thirties, forties, or even later. Here was their story, playing out on national television for the first time. It was liberating, stunning.

  At one point, Tinny commented, “I’ve always liked Laura Dern. Is it wrong that I’m now completely in love with her?” earning her a playful slap from Deb.

  And when Ellen leaned too close to the airport microphone and said out loud to Susan, “I’m gay,” tears filled Jillian’s eyes and then streamed down her cheeks. She felt Angie’s grip on her tighten, and when she turned to look at her face, her eyes were full, too. Shay and Laura were locked in an embrace, and both their faces were etched with emotion. The next second, just as it happened on the show, the entire room burst into applause. As the show broke for commercials, everyone stood and hugged each other, kissed cheeks and lips, slapped backs.

  When the buzz died down, and the credits rolled, Jillian spoke to her friends.

  “I don’t know how to thank you all for being here, for supporting us, for being our friends. We just witnessed history. It sounds a little corny, but it’s true. Not only that, but I can honestly say that I can’t ever remember feeling quite as proud of who I am than I do right this second.” She sniffled. “And now I will stop talking before I start sobbing.”

  Later that night, as Jillian stood at the bathroom sink brushing her teeth, she tried to analyze the unfamiliar emotions that hit during the show. The part about being proud? It was absolutely true. She’d always thought she was comfortable in her own skin, but now she knew that wasn’t quite honest, that there’d always been a small sliver of her being that was hidden, just in case. As she rinsed her mouth and glanced up into the bathroom mirror, she caught a quick flash of her mother’s eyes in her own reflection. Not for the first time, she debated over whether she wished her mother had been there to see the Ellen episode or if it was better that she hadn’t. She could almost hear how the conversation would have gone.