by Joey Bush
*****
I went home not long after that because I was just getting frustrated. That’s how it worked with art—sometimes you could channel all your frustrations and anger and anxiety and whatever other negative feelings you were experiencing into productive energy; other times it just crippled you. Nothing productive was happening for me today and I could overhear other people laughing and talking about their works-in-progress and everyone sounded like they were having such a good time that I decided I should just go home.
But I couldn’t even find any respite there. I went upstairs to my room and lay down on my bed. A nap might be good. No sooner had I shut my eyes, though, when there was a soft knock on the door. Before I could even respond, the door opened and my mother breezed in.
“Are you not feeling well?” she asked, perching at the edge of my bed.
“I’m not sick.”
“You don’t usually lie down during the day, though. Just catching up on a little beauty rest?”
“I guess that’s one way of putting it.”
“Is that really all that’s going on?” she asked. “You look so glum. Is everything all right? Are you having a hard time with your art project?”
“I’m fine,” I snapped. I knew she was just trying to help, but I hated how trite she made it sound by saying “art project.”
She gave me a surprised look. “Well, you don’t sound fine. Is there something you want to talk about? Talking about it helps sometimes, you know.”
“It’s ...” I hesitated, part of me insisting that I not elaborate any further, but a larger part of me wanting to just talk to someone about it. My mother waited, looking at me expectantly. “I just like someone, is all. Or liked someone, and I don’t think he feels the same way. And, as you’re so fond of reminding me, I don’t have much experience when it comes to dating, so I’m not used to feeling like this. I don’t think I actually like it much, to be honest.”
My mother patted my leg. “Oh, Chloe, I’m sorry to hear that you’re feeling like this. I remember all too well what it was like to be interested in someone and not have the feeling reciprocated. It’s not a great feeling; you’re right.”
It was the first time in quite a while that I could recall saying something about how I truly felt and having my mother just agree with me. I turned my head and looked at her. “Thank you for saying that.”
“But that’s just the way it goes. You’ve got to risk feeling bad because if you don’t, you’ll miss out on all the opportunities that you have to feel great. And sometimes things don’t always work out how we want them to. But that’s okay—it’s a learning experience.”
“I know. I’m not trying to be dramatic. I just thought ... I don’t know what I thought. I guess I realize that I have no clue about any of this.”
“That’s no reason to give up or get discouraged. Sweetheart, you’re young. You’re beautiful. But more importantly, you’re a good person and you’ve got a kind heart. There is no doubt in my mind that you will meet someone—the right person for you. You will. This guy that you’re talking about—how well did you really know him? He just doesn’t sound like your type. And you may not want to hear this, but I know you better than anyone else. I’m your mom, after all. And I know that the right person is out there for you. Like Parker. How is everything going with him?”
“Nothing is going on between us.”
“Well, you went to that ... what was it? A bike thing?”
“A bike race.”
She smiled. “Right. The bike race. You went to that with him, and it sounded like you guys had a fun time. When are you going to see him again?”
“I really don’t know, Mom. He’s been bugging me to hang out this week and I told him that I was busy. Because I am.”
She waved a hand. “Oh, I’m sure you could find some time to see him. Even to just grab a quick bite to eat?”
“Why are you so intent on me seeing him?”
“Because he’s a good kid! From a good family! Just like you. I can tell that you want to be dating, and I’m trying to encourage that. I want that for you. You don’t think that I want to see you unhappy like this, do you?”
“No, of course not.”
“Well good, because I don’t! In fact, I’ve got a great idea. Let’s go do something fun. Just the two of us. We’ve hardly spent any time together and the summer is halfway over. It’s a gorgeous day; there’s no reason for you to spend it moping in your bedroom.”
She sounded so enthusiastic about it that I couldn’t help but feel a little bit better. Maybe I did just need a change of scenery, something to get my mind off of Graham, and the fact that when it came to dating, I had absolutely no clue what I was doing.
*****
We drove up to Provincetown, which someone in college had once told me was the “gayest city in the U.S.,” even though it wasn’t actually a city. It was a funky, little, seaside town, the very tip of Cape Cod, an artist’s enclave, as well as a mecca for all things gay. Just a fun spot, overall, though for my mother, certainly a bit out of her comfort zone.
“Oh, my,” she said under her breath. Two, well-muscled men, wearing little more than leather thongs and flip flops, walked by us, holding hands. We passed by another man dressed as a woman, in a long, sequined evening gown and impossibly high heels. My mother’s eyes widened even further. “Let’s go in here,” she said, tugging me into a restaurant we were walking by. “I heard this place is supposed to be pretty good, actually.”
“Sure,” I said.
The restaurant had a distinctly European feel: minimalist décor, everything very modern. We were seated on high stools at a round table for two. “Abigail will be right over to take your drink order,” the hostess—who may have actually been a man—told us.
“Great,” my mother said, and we both began looking at the menus.
Abigail turned out to be a pretty girl with a pierced nose and very short, spiky hair, dyed bright pink. Except in the front, she had left her hair long and had side-swept bangs. Both her arms were covered in colorful tattoos, from her shoulders all the way down to the backs of her hands. I tried not to think about Graham.
“Now that’s quite the look,” my mother whispered to me after she’d taken our order.
“I kind of like it,” I said. “She doesn’t have to worry about brushing her hair every morning.”
“Now,” my mother said. “Let’s talk about something nice, shall we? How is your sculpture project coming along?”
“Uh ... it’s okay,” I said. I didn’t want to tell her that it actually wasn’t coming along at all.
“Your father and I will come to the opening. I want you to know that. It’s important to us that we be there and see what you’ve been working on.”
“Great,” I said, feeling even worse about the whole thing. I just had to not think about that right now, either. There didn’t seem to be anything safe to think about. I started ripping my napkin into little bits, wishing that I had just stayed at home in bed.
29.
Graham
I decided to do what Tara said—I’d give it a few days before I got in touch with Chloe. Maybe I’d even decide that I didn’t feel like talking to her after those few days had passed, which was nothing more than wishful thinking. I couldn’t, in fact, seem to get her out of my mind.
I had her address; I’d go over to her house and talk to her. I’d tell her I was sorry and that I hadn’t really felt like this toward someone before and I didn’t quite know how to handle that. Maybe that sounded lame, but it was the truth. If she wanted to know what happened between me and Francesca, I’d tell her that too: absolutely nothing.
My phone rang as I was pouring my first cup of coffee of the day. I looked at the screen. My mother.
“Something is up with my car again,” my mother said. “Are you at work?”
“No, I’ve got the day off.”
“Oh, good! So you can come down there. Can you come down here now?”
“Just because I’m not going into work doesn’t mean I’m just sitting around on my ass—I’ve got things I need to do.”
“It will just be a few minutes, sweetie, please?”
“There’s no one there who can help you? I find that hard to believe.”
“If you left your house now, you’d be here in under five minutes. I think it just needs a jump again.”
“It sounds like you need to invest in a new battery if it’s going to keep dying.”
“Yes, I know. And I will. But for now, will you just come down here?”
I should’ve known better, but I agreed.
*****
My mother was sitting on the hood of her car, smoking a cigarette. Another woman that I didn’t recognize stood next to her.
“See, that hardly took you any time at all,” my mother said. “Now, come over here; I want you to meet Charlotte.”
She grabbed me by my forearm and pulled me over.
“Charlotte, this is my son Graham. Isn’t he as handsome as I told you? Graham, this is Charlotte.”
“Hey,” I said. Charlotte smiled. She was one of those women that might have been pretty, but it was hard to tell because she put so much makeup on.
“Your mom’s told me a lot about you.”
“I can just imagine,” I said. “I don’t really have time to chat though; I’m just here to jump start that piece of shit car. Again.”
“I have to go get something inside, I’ll be right back!” my mother exclaimed. She turned and hurried off before I could say anything.
“So,” Charlotte said. “I guess this is where I’m supposed to ask what you out.”
I looked at her. “Huh?”
“Your mom said you were single, and she thought ... she thought we might hit it off. But we won’t know that if we don’t go out, right? I just got out of a relationship myself, actually. Well, we broke up a while ago, but this is the first time I’ve really felt like getting back out there on the dating scene. It’s because—”
“Hold up,” I said. “I think you might have the wrong idea here. I came down because my mother said her car needed a jump.”
Charlotte smiled and shook her head. “I’m afraid not.”
“Right. I get it. Listen, I’m sure you’re a very nice person, but you can’t listen to my mother, okay? I shouldn’t have listened to her—if I hadn’t, I wouldn’t be here right now, on my day off.”
“I think she was just trying to be helpful.”
“Oh, I’m sure she was. Just like I’m sure there’s nothing she actually needed to go get inside, but just wanted to give us a little alone time to arrange our date tonight.”
Charlotte laughed. “Janice has good intentions.”
“Well, I think I’m going to take off before she comes back out here. You can tell her I appreciate her efforts at playing matchmaker, but I’d prefer to let these things happen a little more naturally.”
“I completely understand.”
“Great.” I started to get into my truck. “Good luck, though,” I said. “And do yourself a favor—don’t listen to what my mother says anymore.”
Since I was already out, I decided I’d just drive over to Chloe’s. That would keep me from thinking about the fact that my mother was batshit crazy and that I’d never in a million years go out with someone from The Finery.
I put Chloe’s address into the GPS and found it pretty easily. They stayed in a place that was right by the ocean, of course.
I knew Chloe came from a wealthy family, but I hadn’t been expecting this. The house was fucking huge. She lived here? My place must’ve seemed like a shoebox to her. I parked my truck at the end of the long driveway, which wasn’t paved but covered in crushed, white seashells. The lawn was a brilliant green and perfectly manicured, like it should’ve been a putting green. There were elegant flower beds and a brick walkway that led up to a Cape-style house. Except it was more like five or six houses that were combined all into one. Three people lived here? Insane.
I went up to the front door and knocked.
“Just a minute!” a woman’s voice called out from somewhere back in the house. She appeared a moment later, a tall woman with similar features to Chloe. The expression on her changed when she saw me though, from open friendliness to guarded skepticism.
“Who are you?” she asked. “This is a private residence.” She stood behind the door, as though using it for a shield.
Was she serious? Did she think I was about to pull out a knife or something and demand that she give me all of her money? I had to stifle a laugh.
“Does Chloe live here?” I asked.
The woman hesitated. “Why are you asking?”
“I just wanted to talk to her. I mean, I know she lives here because I see her car right over there.” I gestured behind me and the woman looked as though she didn’t believe me.
“What’s your name?”
“Graham. Graham Walker.”
“Chloe isn’t available to speak to you right now. Or ever, really. I don’t know who you are, Mr. Walker, or what exactly you might want with my daughter, but I think it’s best you just forget about it. I’m not sure how else to phrase this, but ... you’re not the type of person my husband or I would like our daughter to be fraternizing with. I apologize for putting it so bluntly, but I just want us to be clear here.”
She had stepped out from behind the door and was looking at me boldly, as if challenging me to contradict her.
“Excuse me?” I said.
Her mother looked over her shoulder, as if she’d heard something behind her. She stepped outside, pulling the door shut behind her.
“You can’t come here and try to intimidate me,” she said.
I held up my hands. “Ma’am, I am not trying to—”
“And don’t ‘ma’am’ me. Don’t act like you’re this refined person, because you are so clearly not. Listen, I am not trying to insult you.”
I laughed. “Oh, really?”
“I know it might seem that way, but I’m not—Chloe’s father and I just want what’s best for her, which I hope you can understand.”
“And I’m not what’s best for her. You know this how?”
“Look. We don’t have to turn this into something that it’s not. I’m not sure what’s going on between you and Chloe, if anything at all. But you are not the right person for her.”
“You don’t even know me.”
“You’re right, I don’t. But I don’t need to. Chloe is a good girl who might be a little confused about things. And I’m not trying to say that you yourself aren’t a decent person, but you are not the type of person that she’s going to end up with. You showing up unannounced at the house like this is entirely inappropriate, might I add.”
I was having a hard time believing that I was actually hearing all this. I kept waiting for her to start to laugh and say it was a joke, but there was a part of me that wasn’t surprised because I knew many of the rich summer residents thought like this. Most wouldn’t actually have the balls to come out and say it, but Chloe’s mom didn’t seem to have any qualms about it.
“She’s not going to come out here and talk to you. I think it’d be best if you just went on your way. And please don’t try to get in touch with her again.” She stepped back into the house and looked at me once more before firmly shutting the door in my face.
Right. Okay, then.
30.
Chloe
I watched from my bedroom window as he got into his truck and drove away. I could only imagine what my mother had said to him. Actually, I didn’t even want to know.
But he had driven out here, presumably to see me. Tara must’ve given him the address. I’d been working hard to put him out of my mind, but even just seeing him through the window like that made me realize that he really wasn’t someone I just wanted to forget about. There was something more there.
*****
I drove by the shop first but didn’t see his
truck, so then I went over to his house. He was home, and I felt a mixture of relief and anticipation building in my chest as I got out of the car.
I tapped on the wooden frame of the screen door. I could hear him moving around in there, and then a second later, he appeared, the surprise apparent on his face.
“Chloe,” he said. I stepped back so he could open the door. “Come on in. If you want,” he added.
“I do want to.” I went inside. “I saw that you had stopped by earlier. I was upstairs, but I could see you from the window. Talking to my mom.”
“Yeah. That didn’t go so well.”
“That’s why I didn’t come down. We would’ve just gotten into a huge fight and I didn’t feel like it. But whatever she said to you—I’m sorry. And I hope you know that I don’t actually feel that way.”
He nodded. “You know, I’m really glad to hear that. And just so you know, nothing happened between me and Francesca that day. It could have—but it didn’t.”
“Well, thank you. That makes me happy to hear it.” I smiled and took a deep breath. “I’ve been thinking about this a lot. And at first I felt like I didn’t know what I wanted to say, but I realized that I actually do know exactly what I want to say. And that is that I like you. More than just a friend, way more than I like Parker, probably more than I’ve actually liked anyone before, ever. Which might seem kind of crazy seeing as we don’t even know each other that well, but I don’t care—I want to get to know you better. I want to spend time with you. Other people can think whatever they want, but it’s not their life. I’m all done doing things just because someone else thinks that’s what I should do.”
“Chloe,” he said, rubbing the lower part of his face. When he took his hand away, he was smiling. “You don’t know how happy I am to hear you say that. I feel the same way.”
I grinned. “Well. Imagine that.”
“So, you knew that your parents were going to have an issue with us,” he said. “That’s why you brought up keeping it a secret that time at Lorraine’s.”