“What are you talking about? Mom, this is exactly what you’ve been saying you wanted most in the world.”
Iris swallowed dryly, then looked around in distress. “Where’s my glass?”
Although it was on the small table right beside her chair, she seemed too perplexed to see it, so I walked over, picked it up, and handed it to her. Since it was only half full and I’d been able to read Iris’s expression as needing more than that, I had the bottle ready to refill the wine glass as soon as she moved it away from her lips.
“Kimberly, I’m running out of things to sell. That diamond choker you’ve been wearing everywhere is just about the last thing we have.”
“But we get a quarterly check at the beginning of next month.”
Iris looked miserably at the glass I’d just refilled. “That’s already spent.” She downed the wine, then turned to me expectantly. Holding up the empty bottle, I motioned towards the kitchen and left to get a fresh one.
As I stepped out into the hallway, out of the corner of my eye I saw Iris lean in towards Kimberly. Suddenly suspicious that I’d been sent away on purpose, I eased myself back against the wall to eavesdrop. Not an honorable thing, perhaps, but my guilt was quickly assuaged by what I overheard.
“How many times do I have to tell you? The fate of our family is in your hands,” Iris said.
“Mom, I’ve been trying.”
“It’s been almost three months. No one waits that long anymore.”
Kimberly made a frustrated noise, then said, “How many times do I have to tell you? He’s Catholic.”
“Kimberly, Catholic men do not wait until they’re married to have sex. Ask an altar boy.”
“Well, so what if we want to take things slowly? Is that so wrong?”
“We don’t have time for you to take this slowly. Don’t you get what I’m telling you?”
“Mom, would you stop it! This is my life, not some … trade agreement! You’re like one of those women on CNN who tries to sell off her daughter’s virginity.”
“You haven’t been a virgin since you were sixteen!”
“Not the point!”
“Maybe not, Kimberly, but do you think he’s really going to want to keep dating you when they realize we’re broke? You need to make something happen and fast, because your time is running out. Do you understand me?”
Kimberly said, “I’ve tried everything you’ve told me to, Mom. Showing cleavage, wearing lingerie, making suggestive comments, trying to get him drunk. Maybe he’s gay and just doesn’t know it.”
And then my guilt was back.
But as I rushed as quietly as possible towards the kitchen, rage, relief, and fear battled through me. The rage from the thought that they were just using J.J. because of his family’s money, the relief because that meant keeping the secret of our love wasn’t hurting anyone, at least not emotionally, and fear from the realization that if things were really that serious financially, I had managed to fall in love with the one person everyone else was looking to as our savior. Rock + hard place = nausea.
When the doorbell rang right then, I was at first extremely annoyed, but when I remembered I’d asked Duane to stop by in anticipation of the party invitation, I was extremely relieved by the thought of a distraction in the house.
As this was all a couple weeks before Christmas, it was only somewhat odd that I opened the door to find him wearing a Santa hat.
“Nice hat,” I said.
“Ho, ho, ho. Out of my way, bitch, this shit weighs a ton.” He pushed past me, lugging several garment bags over his shoulder. “You couldn’t have had an emergency on a day when I wasn’t carrying all of my class projects from the entire semester?”
“You didn’t just have to take in the final piece?”
“No, that bitchass Tim-Gunn-wannabe said he wanted to see our ‘progression over the entire semester.’”
Not even noticing Kimberly wiping away her tears, he practically fell into the living room, shrugging his heavy load onto the couch, and greeting Iris with a, “Hey, Mrs. F.”
He and Kimberly exchanged cheek kisses, and just as he noticed her eyes looked puffy, she asked, “Are these your designs?”
He nodded, then proudly announced, “I got an A.”
“Can we see them?”
He had one of those oh-I-really-want-to-show-off-but-I’m-going-to-play-shy looks on this face, so I said, “Well, if you don’t want to—”
“Okay, fine! If you insist.”
“I do,” Kimberly said.
Iris had that look of smelling moldy cheese, as if she didn’t know how she would ever be able to pretend she liked whatever ghastly rags he had created, but as he began pulling clothes out of the bags, she at first looked confused, and then entirely mystified. Standing up to get a closer look, she said, “These are really good.”
“Duh,” Duane said, but then smiled sheepishly and added, “Thank you.”
Kimberly held up a white gown with a silver and blue tulle layer floating over it and gushed, “This is gorgeous!”
“That was my final project. Clinched the A.”
“Duane, would you let me try it on?” Kimberly asked, as if she were suggesting something scandalous.
He beamed. “I thought you’d never ask.”
As soon as Kimberly swept out of the room holding the dress up to herself, Iris inspected the remaining items a little more closely. She’d gotten in the habit of keeping some of the castoff clothes that designers sent over but that Kimberly didn’t want. Although, even with Kiki’s deft handling of Kimberlygate, there were markedly fewer of those than there had once been.
“Too bad you don’t have any gowns for more sophisticated women,” Iris said.
Duane looked offended. “You don’t think the dress she just took is sophisticated?”
“She means older,” I whispered into his ear, and Iris pretended not to hear.
“Oh. Well, what do you need it for? I can dress any kind of woman,” he said, motioning at his own male body significantly.
A curious expression came over Iris’s face as she mumbled to herself, “Well, it would be cheaper.”
Duane looked at me for an explanation. “What’s going on? Does she need a dress for something?”
Afraid to open the wrong can of worms, I caught Iris’s eye and asked her, “Are you thinking of …?”
“What do you think?” she asked me.
“He’s really good, as you can see.”
“What are you two talking about?”
Ignoring him, Iris continued to look at me, “I guess if he wanted to draw up some sketches?”
“Are you sure?” I asked.
Right then Kimberly walked in wearing the dress he had made, and even with casual hair, day makeup, and no jewelry, she possibly looked more beautiful than she ever had in her life.
“I’m sure,” Iris said.
“Duane,” Kimberly said, “I will kill you if you do not let me wear this.”
Duane waved his hand in front of his face as if the room were stiflingly hot. “Damn, she going all gangsta on me.”
“Well, can I?” Kimberly asked, running up to him and tugging on his arm pleadingly.
“Precious, nothing would make me happier than to have you wear one of my dresses, but doesn’t it seem a little dressy just for dinner?”
Suddenly Kimberly realized that she was now the one with the power. “Silly, I don’t want it for just any dinner. I want to wear it … to …”
Duane leaned further and further towards her until it was a marvel that he didn’t tip over. “To where?” he finally said.
Kimberly held her silence until we all could tell Duane couldn’t take the suspense any longer, and then finally told him, “The Kennerlys’ New Year’s Eve party.”
My hands flew to my ears in anticipation of his screams, but all he did was blink three times, turn his head slightly to look at Iris and ask her softly, “Is that what you need a dress for, too?” Iris nodded.
I cleared my throat. “Actually, Duane, they don’t know this yet, but depending on if you wanted to go as yourself or as Coco, you might need a third dress.”
Kimberly was the first to catch on and asked, “J.J.’s inviting him, too?”
I nodded.
An expression of intense bitterness and jadedness came over Duane’s face as he looked disappointedly at me. “Do you really expect me to believe that I have been invited to the most exclusive party of the year? Jay-Z can’t get into that party.”
“Fine, don’t believe me,” I said.
And that’s when the screaming started.
Because of all the noise, none of us heard Buck enter the house, and it wasn’t until we saw him standing in the doorway that we realized he was back.
“Women,” he said, shaking his head. “Can’t live with ‘em, can’t have sex without ‘em.”
“You can!” Duane said, leaping towards him with the fervor of a man who had just seen almost all of his dreams come true and wasn’t going to miss his chance at one more.
“Duane!” I threw myself across the room to get in his way, but because my foot caught on the edge of a rug, tripping me, I ended up tackling him.
From the floor where I lay crumpled on top of Duane, I looked up at Buck, and warned him, “One of these days I’m not going to be around to stop him.”
Buck shrugged. “Promises, promises.”
I’m not sure how to describe the noise Duane made from underneath me.
Bliss passes quickly, so before I knew it, New Year’s Eve was upon us. Sure, I’d returned many times to the conversation I’d overheard between Iris and Kimberly, but because at the center of their discussion had been J.J., and every time I thought of J.J., I was suddenly happy no matter what … Well, if that doesn’t explain my lack of focus, I’m guessing you’ve never been in love.
J.J. had been back from the Berkshires for several days, and both of us being on winter break had made it both easier and more difficult to see each other. Easier in that he was spending a lot of time over at our house, but more difficult because we weren’t able to use studying as an excuse to be alone over at his house.
Because their house was such a whirlwind of activity New Year’s Eve day, J.J. was due to show up at our place by nine that morning to avoid as much of the chaos as he could, and although he and I had purposely not told anyone he would be over early so that we could have some time alone together, Kimberly unknowingly foiled our plan by waking up hours before her usual time. When, wrapped in her bathrobe, she came into the kitchen where I’d been preparing an elaborate breakfast in anticipation of J.J.’s arrival, I looked at the clock, trying to mask my annoyance.
“Shouldn’t you get back to bed?” I suggested. “You’re going to be up late tonight.”
“I can’t sleep. I’m too excited.” She picked up a piece of bacon to nibble on as she looked over the fruit and pastries I’d bought earlier and the potatoes I was preparing to sauté. I also had French toast waiting to go, a plate of lox and bagels, and a quiche in the oven. (Yes, it’s possible I’d overdone it. But I’d really, really been looking forward to spending some time alone with J.J.) “Do you eat like this every morning while we’re asleep? How do you keep so trim?”
“Usually I’m lucky if I have time to make toast. But since I’m on break, I thought I’d do something special.”
“You’re always so good about taking care of us.”
I looked up from the onions I was chopping, and while I could lie and blame them for the rapid blinking I suddenly found necessary, it was really the sincerity in her voice and in the way Kimberly was watching me. I shrugged. “It’s nothing.”
“It’s not nothing,” she said, pushing herself up from the counter she’d been leaning on and coming to stand beside me. “I mean, look at all of this stuff. I wouldn’t know how to do any of it.”
“Well, I bought some of it.” Then added, “You certainly know how to do that.”
She smiled, but with an obvious sadness underneath. “Yeah, that’s about all Mom ever taught me.”
I didn’t quite know how I was supposed to react to that, so I busied myself with rinsing off the knife.
“Can I help?”
“You want to help me make breakfast?”
“Yeah. I could learn, right?”
“Of course you can learn. It’s just cooking.”
“So you’ll teach me?”
I studied her face to see if she was serious, and to my surprise, she sure seemed to be. “You really want to learn?”
“I do. I mean, let’s face it, you’re going to get offered a lot of academic scholarships, and no one could blame you if you wanted to go somewhere far away from here for college, and then who is going to keep us from starving? Mom and Buck certainly aren’t likely to be much help.”
I don’t know for which I was least prepared—that Kimberly was asking me to teach her how to take care of our family or that she had clearly been thinking about the future and that I factored into her thoughts. She took the knife out of my hand and asked, “So what do I do?”
I took the knife back. “Why don’t we start you off with grating some cheese?”
“Okay,” she agreed, but then a faint knocking at the front door drew her attention. “Who could that be?”
I shook my head, feigning ignorance. “I’d better go see.”
“I’ll do it. You’ve got enough going on.” And before I could protest, she was on her way.
It wasn’t more than a minute or two before she showed J.J. into the kitchen. “Look who is here all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed,” Kimberly said.
“Hey,” J.J. said.
“I hope you’re hungry,” I said.
His eyes swept over the array of food I’d prepared, then he turned to Kimberly. “Maybe you’d better go wake up Buck.” Then seeing me pull the quiche out of oven, he added, “And your mother.”
“Ooh, mimosas!” Kimberly said. “I’ll be right back!”
As soon as she was out of the door, I said, “Best laid plans.”
J.J. moved quickly to me and gave me a kiss. “I’d been hoping this morning might make up for midnight.”
“What do you mean?” I asked, feeling my stomach start to knot.
“Well, you know everyone is going to be watching to see Kimberly and me kiss when the clock strikes twelve. I just don’t see how I can avoid it.”
I don’t know if you’ve ever experienced this, but sometimes it can be a surprise to realize that inside everyone else’s heads are as many ideas, and fears, and hopes and dreams as there are inside your own. Without my ever considering the possibility, Kimberly was wondering where I was going to go to college, and J.J. was trying to figure out a way for us to kiss at midnight to welcome in the New Year.
After giving it a moment’s thought, I suggested, “Maybe we can pick somewhere to meet five minutes before and have our own little celebration?”
“My dad’s library?”
“Seriously? You’re going to kiss me in a room full of books and expect me to stop at one kiss?”
“Are books some sort of fetish for you?” he asked, with an eyebrow raised matched by the raised corner of his mouth fighting a playful smile.
“Is it a problem that I like my men smart?”
“Why would it be? I have a library card.”
“Uh, your father also has his own library right there in your house.”
“Ooh, yeah. Lucky me.”
Just as the kitchen was about to turn into as much of an erogenous zone for me as a library, we heard Buck’s feet stomping down the stairs.
“Damn,” I said.
“Damn,” J.J. said.
By three o’clock, J.J. headed home and the rest of us went upstairs for naps. At five o’clock on the dot, I opened our front door to find Duane wearing something so unexpected, I should have known right then and there that the night ahead was going to end up far differently than I ever would have imagined.
CHAPTER 15
11:55
“You’re wearing a tux,” I said.
“You’re damn right I am,” he said as he passed through the door, the garment bag with Iris’s dress over his shoulder. “With your sister and mother both wearing my designs, I’m not letting anyone confuse the future of my business with a drag show.”
“You’re thinking like an MBA.”
“I’ll take anyone’s money, honey.”
“Chris!” Iris and Kimberly both called simultaneously from upstairs.
“Iris is really calling for you,” I said. Then, with my eyes darting to the garment bag, I asked, “How’d the final alterations go?”
Confident in his work, Duane said with rare understatement, “I think she might be happy.”
“Chris!” Iris said again, more urgently.
“You’d better get up there,” I said.
“Should I take up a bottle of wine just to be safe?”
“I just opened a new one for her. You should be good for a while.”
We both headed upstairs, separating once we reached the landing. As Duane went to present Iris with her finished gown, I went to see what Kimberly needed.
“Was that Duane?” she asked when I entered her bathroom.
“Yep.”
“And?”
“He seems pretty confident Iris is going to be happy.”
“I hope so,” Kimberly said, rummaging through her makeup drawer. “She’s going to give me a nervous breakdown one of these days, I swear.” She picked up a stick of black eyeliner and with a slightly trembling hand lifted it to her eye.
“I thought Duane wanted you to use blue to pick up the blue of the tulle?”
“Oh, right!” Kimberly said, flicking the stick back into the drawer with frustration. “I can’t seem to do anything I’m supposed to. Maybe I should just let him do my makeup. He knows how he wants me to look.”
“Want me to go get him?”
“Give him some time to calm down Mom. But maybe you can help me with my hair for now?”
“Really? You know I’m not really good with that sort of stuff.”
She pulled over a vanity stool and sat down. “I just need you to hold it up while I put the combs in.”
My Fairy Godmother is a Drag Queen Page 16