Romance Redefined

by SJD Peterson

  “So we get a bigger place together.”

  “No. I don’t have time to move, and neither do you.” I stood and crossed to one of the windows. It was dark outside, but I could see into the lighted windows of another apartment building across the street. I saw a man nestled into an armchair, reading. A man alone. It was a peaceful, refreshing sight. In that moment, I envied him.

  “Reason number four,” I said. “We don’t even know if we’re compatible in bed. That’s like buying a pair of shoes without trying them on. Not going to happen.”

  “Well, you know I’m willing to let you try me on for size,” Jason said, dropping his tone to a seductive level.

  I ignored his comment. “And reason number five, I’m sorry, Jason, but I’m not a place in my life emotionally where I can commit to anyone. My head’s all messed up, and that doesn’t make for a real good start to a marriage.”

  “It’s him, isn’t it? Always the ex. Why did you leave him if you can’t get him out of your mind?”

  I swiveled around. “Believe it or not, what I’m talking about doesn’t have anything to do with Hugh. It’s about you and me.” I paused, but I knew that eventually I had to bring it up. I wasn’t doing either of us any favors by keeping my frustration to myself. “We have something we need to resolve,” I went on. “Sometimes I feel a little crowded, Jason. I told you I need you as a friend and acting partner, but you ignored me or simply didn’t hear me.”

  “I heard you, but you’re not the only one in this relationship that has needs.”

  “You’re right. That’s why you shouldn’t be chasing me. I’m not in a place in my life where I can give you what you need. I don’t know if I ever will be, because I don’t fucking know right now,” I snapped.

  “Come off it, Ben. If it weren’t for Bayard, you wouldn’t be telling me any of this. You’re inventing excuses.”

  I huffed out an exasperated breath. “There you go again. You haven’t heard a single thing I’ve said.”

  “I’ve heard,” he muttered. “And I’ve observed a few things. Such as the fact that you still have a bike in your living room, dripping dead flowers all over the rug.”

  I couldn’t deny the ever-intrusive fact of that bike. Just as I couldn’t explain why I hadn’t called Hugh and demanded that he have them removed from the premises. Nor could I explain why I hadn’t tossed all of it out the window.

  “Jason, leave Hugh out of this. You’re missing the point. It wouldn’t matter who I was involved with, I’d still want a certain amount of space.” I didn’t mention that between Hugh and me there’d been too much space. Was there no happy medium? With Hugh, I had known distance, and with Jason, I knew togetherness and then some. Was I asking too much from life, wanting just the right balance?

  Jason stood. He stuffed his hands into his pockets, somehow managing to look both mournful and belligerent at the same time. “I wish I could knock the hell out of your ex. And I wish there was some way you could think about me, only me.”

  I realized Jason really hadn’t heard a word I’d said. Perhaps his confused feelings concerning Hugh were a problem, but Jason and I had a problem entirely separate from that. Jason just couldn’t seem to see it.

  “Jason, you’re so even tempered about acting. But when it comes to love—”

  “When it comes to you, Ben,” Jason said in a low voice, “I’m so in love I can’t think straight.”

  Once again, I had no clue what to say. It seemed that was becoming a pattern in my life. The one thing I knew for sure was, Jason and I couldn’t be friends. The realization caused my chest to tighten. I really did care about him—he was a great guy, but he was also in love with me. The second thing I knew for sure was, I could never love him the way he needed me to.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  ANOTHER CRAPPY day at work—rehearsal had been crap; my whole life seemed to be craptastic.

  I lay in bed, singing a silly nursery rhyme in my head over and over to keep from thinking about anything remotely based in reality.

  One, two, buckle my shoe.

  Three, four, shut the door.

  Five, six, pick up sticks.

  Seven, eight, lay them straight.

  Nine, ten, a big fat hen.

  The telephone rang, interrupting my song.

  Who would be calling at this hour? It was after midnight. I reached over and snatched my cell from the bedside table on the fourth ring.

  “Hello,” I said apprehensively.

  “Benson! I’m so glad you’re there. I simply didn’t know where else to turn.”

  “Mother, what’s wrong?”

  “I know I’m calling too late. I’m sorry I disturbed you, dear. I just didn’t know what else to do.”

  “Are you all right? Are the uncles all right?”

  “Walter and Uncle Johnathan are fine.”

  “Mother, please don’t keep me in suspense.”

  “I need you to come to Charleston tomorrow. It’s rather urgent. And it’s not really the type of thing I can explain over the phone.”

  I didn’t like the way my mother sounded. There was an edge to her voice, as if she was just barely managing to keep herself under control.

  “I think you’d better tell me what’s wrong,” I said firmly.

  “Benson, please do this for me. Just come to Charleston. I can’t face the situation alone.”

  “What situation?”

  “I’ve arranged a flight for you. I will send your itinerary.”

  “Mother! Can you please at least tell me that you’re well? I’ll be worried sick thinking worst-case scenarios.”

  “Physically I’m fine, just please come. I need you here.” She hung up before I could say another word.

  I switched off my cell and set it on the table, my mind running a mile a minute. I’d have to turn my schedule completely upside down in order to travel to Charleston tomorrow. I’d miss work and rehearsal at a time I really couldn’t afford to. Perhaps this was just another of my mother’s schemes, or maybe she really needed help. Unfortunately, there was only one way to know for sure.

  I WAS beyond irritated that once again I put my life on hold and rushed back home for one of Mary Grace’s dramafests. I was sure that was exactly what was going on, considering that once I arrived, haggard and hungry, she’d refused to talk about anything until everyone was in attendance. She and her goddamn need to have an audience. The one highlight was getting to spend time with the uncles, who shared my frustration.

  Walter and Uncle Johnathan anchored on either side of me, we walked along the path that led up to the back terrace of the Winthrop mansion, waiting to be summoned by Mary Grace.

  “What in God’s name has gotten into your mother this time, Benson?” asked Walter. “I have to admit, it’s been rather peaceful since she’s hidden herself away.”

  “You better not let Mary Grace hear you say that,” Uncle Johnathan warned Walter from my left.

  “Unlike you, I’m not the least bit intimidated by her. You really should try to get a backbone, Johnathan.”

  “Hmph, I have more nerve in my little finger than you have in your entire body,” Uncle Johnathan countered. “And I most certainly am not intimidated by Mary Grace.”

  “Uh-huh.” Walter sniffed. “Just the other day you went scurrying out of the room when you heard her heels clicking across the tile.”

  “I did no such thing!”

  “All right, simmer down, you two,” I said, barely able to contain my laughter. “There is nothing wrong with being a little nervous around my mother. Or at least being smart enough to avoid her at times.”

  Uncle Johnathan snorted. “Oh, how right you are, my boy.”

  “Well, we most certainly can agree on that,” Walt added. “That’s why you should come back to Charleston, Benson. The three of us could be a formidable force against our beloved matriarch.”

  “While that does indeed sound like a grand ol’ time….” Uncle Johnathan gave in to a fit of laught
er, the sound of which cause me to join in. I loved hearing him so happy. When he was in control again, he added, “Can you imagine what Mary Grace’s perfectly sculpted hair would look like when we ganged up on her? She’d be pulling it out.”

  The idea sent us all into another fit of boisterous laughter.

  It did my heart good to hear them laughing. After my last visit to Charleston, I’d been worried about them. They had seemed just a little more frail to me. Being with them now, I felt torn between my two lives as never before. I needed to be in New York. I needed the independence I’d found there. But I also felt the tug of loyalty toward my family. I realized that I missed these two exasperating dear men more than I’d been willing to admit.

  “Care to share the joke?” asked a deep voice from the other side of the terrace. We stopped, then slowly I turned around to find Hugh coming toward us.

  Walt, Uncle Johnathan, and I all looked at each other. Walt and I were still snickering. Uncle Johnathan gave a slight shake of his head, indicating we should keep our conspiracy against Mary Grace to ourselves.

  “Just having a silly senior moment,” said Walter, flashing a wide grin at Hugh. “But now that you’re here, perhaps we’ll find out what’s going on. Why is Mary Grace in such a tizzy?”

  “I’m afraid I don’t know any more than you do. She’s waiting for us in the dining room.” Even as Hugh spoke, he continued to stare at me. I tried to be cool, indifferent, but I could feel my body heating.

  “All you have to do is ask me what’s going on and I’ll tell you,” Uncle Johnathan said.

  Walter patted my arm. “Our poor Johnathan is slipping quickly into dementia today. He likes to think he knows everything that’s going on, yet he can’t even tell you what he had for breakfast.”

  “Oatmeal, toast, and juice,” Uncle Johnathan said, sounding quite affronted.

  As I propelled them forward a little at a time, Walter leaned in conspiratorially and whispered, “He had scrambled eggs.”

  I bit my bottom lip to keep from laughing. I was just glad Uncle Johnathan hadn’t heard him. I could imagine the argument it would have produced.

  We made our way into the house, Hugh going ahead to usher us through the archway and into the grand dining room. Mother sat at the opposite end of the impossibly long table. This room, like the ballroom, was one I especially disliked. The table could easily sit twenty, but oftentimes it was just me, Mother, and Father. Of course, we could have easily used the smaller nook in the kitchen, but Mother wouldn’t hear of it, always having to put on airs even when alone with her family.

  Mary Grace, looking unusually nervous, gestured for everyone to take a seat. I carefully helped Walter and Uncle Johnathan into chairs, then sat to the right of Mother. Hugh sat on the other side of the table, directly in my line of sight. He seemed to have no qualms about studying me. I frowned at him and tried to concentrate on the proceedings at hand.

  Mary Grace folded her hands on the table but didn’t speak. She seemed to be waiting for something. Maybe she was just trying to prolong the aura of suspense. If so, she was doing a good job of it.

  Mary Grace continued to sit in silence at the head of the table, ignoring the uncles muttering to each other. There was a nervousness about Mary Grace I’d rarely seen. I had the impression that my mother might spring up and bolt from the room at any second. I glanced discreetly at Hugh. He sat there calmly, his face a mask of neutrality as he continued to stare at me. I felt as if I were some sort of weird bug under a microscope Hugh was trying to identify. I hated the feeling. I fidgeted in my seat, moving to the edge, ready to flee the moment Mary Grace did.

  The door from the kitchen swung open and Charles—the ex-fiancé—appeared. He nodded to all present and moved to stand behind Mary Grace. Charles seemed perfectly collected. He’d always been a background sort of person, content to allow Mary Grace to take center stage. For years, he’d overseen a very successful real-estate business, but he’d recently taken early retirement to devote himself to a career as an amateur naturalist. The study of botany was Charles’s greatest enjoyment, and I suspected he actually liked plants more than people.

  “Thank you all for being here,” Charles said. “As you may not be aware, Mary Grace and I have recently reopened discussions concerning our situation. Now we’ve reached a possible solution, but find it necessary to consult each of you regarding the matter. You, in particular, Hugh.”

  I looked around to gauge the reaction of Walter, Uncle Johnathan, and Hugh. There was none. Like this was completely normal. It struck me then how fitting this gathering was to the Winthrop tradition. Mary Grace and Charles, instead of solving their problems in private, had convened a family council. This always struck me as odd. The two of them discussing their affairs with the rest of the family sitting in like support staff. Not particularly conducive to romance.

  My fidgeting increased, as did my anxiety, during the long, drawn-out pause. I frickin’ hated these “family meetings.” My ire at Mary Grace only grew. I huffed an exasperated breath, and Mother shot me a disapproving look. How dare I take the spotlight off her? Yeah, well, get on with it.

  Finally, she took pity on us and spoke. “Charles and I have thoroughly discussed our situation. We agree that, if our marriage plans are to proceed, we must find a solution to our living accommodations.” Mary Grace paused. Her hands pressed tightly together, and she sounded even stiffer as she went on. “However, as Benson and Hugh once pointed out, perhaps it is advantageous for any marriage to start on neutral territory.”

  I studied my mother closely. Mary Grace didn’t look too happy. How strange. It seemed a reconciliation was in the works, but my mother looked less than thrilled. It got me considering my situation with Hugh. Why did I want to be with him when half the time I was miserable thinking about him? I was beginning to suspect I was more like my mother than I was comfortable with. Before I had a chance to consider the frightening idea, Charles took up the topic again.

  “Hugh, this is where you come in. Your parents’ house has been vacant for some years, and if you were in the market to sell, Mary Grace and I would be interested in purchasing it. It would be the perfect solution to our current quandary. It would set Mary Grace’s mind at ease being close to the uncles so she can oversee their care. Of course, the decision to sell is entirely yours. There is no pressure.”

  Hugh looked stunned. He ran his palm over his jaw, then rested his chin in his hand while he seemed to consider Charles’s statement. After a moment he sat back in his chair and shrugged. “I’m not sure what to say. I hadn’t really thought of selling the place. I’ll have to think about it.”

  “Absolutely,” Mary Grace said. “We want you to take all the time you need. There’s no rush. And we want Uncle Johnathan and Uncle Walter to think the matter over. You, as well, Benson.” Mary Grace stared anxiously at me. She almost seemed to be hoping that I would throw out some objection to the idea.

  “Walt and I can take care of ourselves,” Uncle Johnathan said. “Mary Grace, you should live wherever you please. Vienna, Brussels, or maybe you two should consider Zurich. It not only regularly tops Mercer’s list, but others as well, as one of the best places in the world to live.”

  “What would you know of Zurich, Johnathan?” Walter asked in a scoffing tone. “Why should they move? I would think you’d want Mary Grace close by. Ben too. Life is too short to be without family.”

  “Walt, are you actually suggesting you care more about family than I do?”

  “I said nothing of the sort. I was merely pointing out a fact. If it made you feel guilty, then perhaps you should take a look in the mirror.”

  “At least I can see my reflection, you old coot,” Uncle Johnathan muttered beneath his breath. Dear Lord, how had these two stayed friends so long? Apparently it was their love for arguing as well as each other that was the recipe for success when it came to them.

  The family meeting had disintegrated. The uncles continued to go at it, and Charles
and Hugh moved to a corner of the dining room for their own discussion. I took advantage of the opportunity to grab my mother and ferry her down the hall to the sunroom. This was one of the least imposing rooms in the house and therefore my favorite. I gestured toward the wicker chaise longue. Mother took the seat, and I took the spot next to her.

  “All right,” I said. “Out with it. Why on earth have you let Charles talk you into this if it’s not what you want?”

  “Benson, whatever gives you the—”

  “Cut the act, Mother. Out with it.”

  “First, Charles has not talked me into anything,” Mary Grace insisted. “The idea is very sensible.”

  “What’s wrong, Mother?”

  Mary Grace leaned her head back on the chaise. “Is it so obvious that something’s wrong?”

  “You’ve gone to a great deal of effort to make it obvious, starting with your phone call last night. Apparently Charles isn’t picking up on the clues, but I am.”

  Mary Grace sighed, without drama for once. “Benson, I’m so glad you came. I wonder if anyone else would understand what I’m going through.” She straightened. “You see, I was so happy when Charles finally came to see me the other day. He’d put his silly pride away for once. How could it not mean a great deal to me?”

  I refrained from mentioning that Mary Grace herself possessed a considerable amount of pride. Why hadn’t she been the one to make the first move?

  “Go on, Mother,” I said patiently.

  “Well, anyway, Charles came up with this idea about buying the Bayard house, and I let myself get swept along at first. I was just so relieved to have Charles back, I suppose I wasn’t thinking very clearly. But now….”

  “Is there something about that house you dislike?”

  “No, no, of course not. Alex and Grace Bayard were dear friends of mine. It would almost be a way to honor them, making their home come to life again. Goodness knows Hugh hasn’t been able to face the task.”