CADMUS
Spring 1993
CADMUS SPENT WEEKS DISTRACTED BY his conversation with Delphina. He could not brush off the unmistakable feeling that he knew her, as if she were a person dear to him. The image of her smiling at the glass iris bubbled in his mind, and several materializations later, he made a connection to Ilona’s toothy smile.
He shook his head. “But they look nothing alike,” he said aloud, causing Robert to ask from across the house if he was talking to him. He mouthed the name Delphina, wondering why a Czech woman would choose such a name. He made a weak attempt at convincing himself that it was the name that connected him to his mother, but he knew he felt a connection to this young woman before he knew her name, her large hazel eyes offering a beautiful balance to her light brown locks. And she was admiring an iris, which he found uncanny.
He looked to the plaque they received in the mail that day, a marker for their participation in the home tour. He knew their house was the gem, and it filled him with joy that he made it a tribute to Ilona, narrating her life and contributions to the home and to the Heights community, namely at Heights High School where he established a generous scholarship in her honor. Doyle Lumber was mentioned, but only as a reference to his grandfather who was thankful to Texas for helping his family realize their dreams.
He and Robert were not at home during the tour. The committee used docents and encouraged homeowners to leave, knowing that many visitors are just as critical as they are complimentary.
“No need for you to hear those things. Go enjoy a day out!” the head docent had told them.
After he and Robert had returned home, they’d been told about a woman who nearly fainted in the garden, very near where his mother had passed. No one caught her name, but he knew she was a young woman with her mother. The description prompted thoughts of Delphina, even though the odds of it being her were quite remote. He hoped she was well again.
“I don’t believe I’ve properly thanked you for opening our home to the tour,” Robert said that evening as they lay in bed reading. “I’ve never had much of a family until I met you. It made me damn proud to call this place my family’s home. I love you.”
“I love you, too,” Cadmus said, pulling his husband into an embrace.
CALLISTA’S ATTEMPTS TO FIGHT THE cancer were met with defeat. She kept her illness from Cadmus during the battle, only deciding to share the news when she knew her time was limited. He remembered the call she made to him shortly after the home tour.
“What were you trying to do, kill me sooner?” she joked, referencing his and Robert’s decision to “open your union to the world.”
They left the wheelchair at the foot of the front porch stairs. Cadmus’ hand brushed his niece’s as they helped his sister up the steps, the moment’s touch startling both of them, and they looked away, both uncomfortable at touching a close relative for the first time.
“I guess I should have come sooner,” Callista said in a matter-of-fact tone as she gripped the railing.
“You were always welcome,” Cadmus replied, steadying her as she made it up the stairs.
“Thank you, Grace,” she said, turning to her daughter. “I’ll call you when I’m ready.”
Grace hugged her mother and gave her uncle a polite smile and nod before heading back to the car. He wished he knew her.
“What’s changed up there?” she said, tilting her head toward the grand staircase.
“Not much, come to think of it. The third floor is Robert’s art studio.”
“Ah. Yes, I read about that in the home tour notes,” she said as they made their way into the library. He walked her to a seat in the nook before turning back to pour two cups of tea.
Callista reached for his hand, and he accepted. They sat together in silence for several minutes, holding hands and sipping tea while staring out at the rose garden.
“I’m sorry I was not a better sister, Cadmus.”
“I’m sorry I caused you pain,” he replied after a minute.
“You didn’t cause me pain,” she said. And then looking over to him with a smile, she added, “I did a pretty good job of that on my own.”
“But we all do, don’t you think?” she probed a minute later.
“What do you mean?” Cadmus asked.
“Look at our father. He caused his own pain, his drinking and his affair. Look at our mother. If she just would have been stronger … had a stronger opinion about our place in the Doyle family and hadn’t been so damn resentful of Uncle Michael … who knows what could have happened.
“And me, well, I regret our estrangement. My family does not know you, and you are truly one of the kindest people I know. You always have been, since you were a little boy. But then look at the choices you made, the choices you continue to make.”
“You had me until that last remark,” he said flatly.
“I did not come here to argue. I want to spend time with you, but I am not foolish enough to believe it will all be perfect. Certain topics are bound to surface.”
“My sexuality is not a choice, Callista. Just as it was not a choice that you fell in love with William. It’s a natural attraction,” Cadmus defended.
“Well, marrying William was a choice, Cadmus. I wanted a better place at the table,” she admitted and then softened. “I’ve come to love him very much. I’ll miss him.”
He remembered wanting to raise the subject of Uncle Michael and his choices, as well as her warped view of their mother, but he wanted peace at this moment more than he wanted reflective discussion on their family. It did not matter anymore. He had seen his uncle only one time since his mother’s death, and he had not even attempted to disguise his disgust. He struggled to reconcile why his uncle continued to harbor resentment toward him. Michael had gotten everything he wanted, including a long life. He was eighty-five and still strong.
“So tell me about your writing,” Callista said, staring into the garden as she took a sip of tea.
HE AND ROBERT WERE AMONG the last to arrive at Callista’s funeral, ducking into the last pew at the back of the church. Cadmus could make out the backs of the heads of Grace, Lillian, and Timothy, all seated at the front with their respective spouses and children. William sat on the far left, staring at his wife’s casket, cascading with roses and lilies. Heaviness filled Cadmus’ heart as he looked at the family he would never know, countless birthdays and holidays spent in joyful union without giving him a passing thought.
A rattle from the door separating the nave from the narthex grabbed their attention, the person on the other side struggling. Robert rose to offer assistance, firmly pulling the door open.
“Robert? What are you doing here? I didn’t know you knew my cousin,” Benjamin said incredulously, looking over to his father, who was also entering the church. “Dad, Robert is one of the partners at Lehane and MacDougall. Dad? Dad, what’s wrong?”
Uncle Michael stood in the aisle, staring at his nephew seated in the back pew. His shrunken frame bore little resemblance to the man who had so forcefully strong-armed him from the company when Cadmus was just five years old. It was as if Cadmus was staring at an image of his father had he lived to be an old man. Cadmus rose to meet them in the aisle, refusing to show the slightest hesitation.
“Truth be told, Ben, I never met Callista, but we are related,” Robert said as Cadmus approached his side, placing his hand on his back. “I believe you know my husband, Cadmus Doyle?”
DELPHINA
Summer 1997
“IT COULDN’T BE MORE PERFECT for you,” her momma said as she made her way into the kitchenette.
“Perfect? Too damn close to the street. Did you see that flimsy excuse for a gate?” Benny commented.
“I’m twenty-three years old, Daddy!”
“And you’re still my baby girl, plain and simple,” he replied.
“I have several more showings scheduled for today,” the apartment manager said, clearly annoyed by Benny’s assessment. “The
se vacancies do not last long. A lot of people prefer to live in an intimate complex on Heights Boulevard despite a few shortcomings.”
“Give us a minute,” he said, excusing his family to the courtyard.
Delphina looked at the eight doors framing the courtyard pond: old and shabby to some, but to her it was charming. Despite her anxious nature, she did not hesitate once when envisioning her future here. It excited her to think about walking along Heights Boulevard with her new messenger bag in tow, headed to Heights High School to teach.
“Daddy, please. I’ve always been afraid to be away from you and Momma, but this just feels right.”
“I hear you, Deli, I do. And you know what? You don’t need to listen to your daddy anymore. You’re a grown woman, much as I hate to admit it. It sure makes me happy that you think you need my permission.”
Delphina smiled. She knew the place was hers. He walked back into the unit, where the apartment manager was taking an exaggerated glance at her watch.
“She’ll take it. And we are happy to pay the deposit and first couple months’ rent.”
“Really?” Delphina squealed, looking to both of her parents in astonishment.
“We are happy to do this for you, sweetheart. It’s time for you to spread your wings,” Patricia beamed.
IT DID NOT TAKE LONG for Delphina’s idyllic vision of her life as a teacher to fracture. She knew reluctant learners were a given, but she woefully underestimated that the balance would be so far out of her favor. She also possessed too much optimism in her presumed ability to inspire, not realizing that many students viewed her as privileged, as someone who could not relate to their struggles.
“I could not afford college, either,” she readily admitted to her second period class, the one that had the most students in need of winning over. “I’ll be paying my loans back for years to come.”
“You don’t get it, Miss,” Aurelio, one of her students, said. “My parents didn’t finish high school. They need me to work, bring in money.”
“Yes, and you can bring in more money with a degree,” Delphina said in earnest.
“My father’s in prison. No one’s got time to wait when we need rent money now,” he countered, with his head snaking from side to side to underscore his point as the other students nodded in agreement.
That first year, she could not count the number of times she walked Heights Boulevard in tears, wondering if it was too late to join Jane in law school. She knew in her heart that the legal field held little interest for her. Without the desire, she would not want to study.
One of her walks home the following October proved to be particularly bumpy with pecans crunching beneath her feet along Heights Boulevard. The symbolism annoyed her: bumps finding new ways to manifest. She picked a pecan up and placed it in her pocket, forgetting about it until it fell out when she changed into her nightgown later that evening. Delphina caressed its shell, noting the black markings on the casing. It swept her away to when she was a child, obsessed with all things in nature, in awe of divine proportion, of symmetry. Placing it on her nightstand as a reminder that she was part of something bigger than herself, she vowed to find a way to reach her students.
“SHIT!” DELPHINA YELPED, JERKING HER hand back from the copier to see how badly she had burned her fingers.
“Need help with that?”
She looked up at Mr. Jack Harris, the very attractive history teacher she had been eyeing.
“It’s possessed,” Delphina replied, trying to appear aloof.
“Hmmm. Let’s see …” Jack began, kneeling next to her as he lifted and turned, raised and pulled. “If it is possessed, then following the diagrams should act as an exorcism.” He yanked the crinkled paper a second after uttering the last word. “Voila!”
“Thanks. I should have more patience,” she conceded.
“Yes, well, that is something hard to come by for us teachers. Too much to do.”
“Tell me about it,” Delphina said, nodding as she resumed copying.
“Still haven’t returned the assignment, huh?” he said, inserting his original in the copier next to hers.
“How’d you know?” she asked, arms crossed and slightly annoyed.
“Students talk. I have many of your kids in my history class.”
She looked away, feeling her face flush from embarrassment. They spoke of other teachers in her class, so of course they talked about her in other classes.
“Hey, it’s a damn hard job, and it’s your first year. Don’t be so hard on yourself,” he consoled, turning toward her as his copies filled the tray.
“How long have you taught?”
“Three years. And this is my last.”
“Last? But the kids love you. You’re good at what you do,” she retorted, regretting the unintended accusatory tone that peppered her response.
“Yes, but it comes with a price. I make a pitiful sum, and the work is intense. I’d also like to provide a nice life for the wife I have yet to meet and the children I am expected to have,” he said, Delphina absorbing his words. “And besides, there is no way my father will humor me much longer. He said it’s time for me to join him at his firm.”
“What are your plans?”
“Georgetown Law School next fall—the alma mater of my father, uncle, and grandfather. I’m the rebellious one, the one who was going to save the world before I join the practice.”
“Wow. Congratulations,” Delphina replied, the announcement pushing her to think of the next steps for the graduate degree she was thinking about pursuing.
“Hey, want to get together tonight and grade?”
“Get together and grade?” she teased.
“Well, excuse me. I guess you have more of a social life than I do,” he replied, eyeing her out of the corner of his eye with a smile.
“Hardly,” she giggled, excitement building that he was flirting with her. “It just caught me off guard. I’d love to.”
“Andy’s on Eleventh?” he said as he shuffled the copies into a neat stack. “They are open twenty-four hours, and I’m not ashamed to admit I can be found there in the middle of the night. Where else can you get a taco and coffee after midnight?”
“Good point.”
“Seven?”
“See you there,” Delphina said with a smile.
DELPHINA KNEW IT WAS A hike to Andy’s from her apartment, but she knew the walk would serve her well. She had her fill of dalliances in college, but she always found a way to end them before it became too serious. They were not always sudden break-ups, and on more than one occasion she had been the one ultimately dumped. Once the newness of a relationship chipped away, bringing to light the reality of impermanence, Delphina picked fights and retreated to solitude. She surmised it was an easier route than to become attached to another person to shroud in worry.
Jack tempted her in a way she had yet experienced. His social consciousness and intelligence made his unconventional looks attractive, his confidence a seduction all its own. She knew money brought a level of assuredness, her friendship with Jane first bringing this realization. He was accustomed to life fanning in his favor, from the time he heralded to Houston from Connecticut to attend Rice University to his natural acceptance to law school with a job waiting. She wondered what it would be like to think of life as a giver of possibilities rather than a taker when you least expected it.
She saw Jack at a corner table before he saw her. He was retrieving a stack of papers from his messenger bag. It was as shame he was leaving for law school in the fall. She was thankful that she found a friend at work. At best, it might be something more, and if it ventured into that territory, then it was probably a good thing he was leaving. There was a natural end in sight rather than one of her maudlin fabrications.
He looked up to see her, waving to get the attention he did not know he already had. Delphina walked up to the table with a smile, and with a simple “hey” placed her bag down and took a seat.
“Goo
d to see you! I need to delve right in to make a dent before my urge to grade passes.”
“Good idea. I stare at the stack on my kitchen table for hours before I dare touch one,” Delphina admitted, leaving out that her insomnia offered the blessing of time to grade at odd hours.
They graded and nibbled nachos over coffee, which she found to be an odd combination. She went with it, becoming accustomed to a bite of guacamole followed by a gulp of dark roast. While Jack’s papers were easier to grade than an English teacher’s, she remained impressed that he assigned open-ended assessments.
“Do you really spend that much time on one paper?” he asked, his question and the distraction from grading taking her a minute to absorb.
“Ummm … I don’t really know? This isn’t a paper. It’s a daily grade,” she replied, reaching for another chip.
“A daily grade? You have been on …” he began as he leaned his head over to read the heading, “Jocelyn’s assignment for fifteen minutes.”
“Your point?”
“How many students do you have?”
“One hundred and seventy-two.”
“At fifteen minutes a paper, that brings your grading time to …” he paused, punching buttons on his calculator, “2,580 minutes, which equals … forty-three hours.”
The waitress refilled their coffee cups, glancing at Delphina out of the corner of her eye as if in total agreement that he just checked her.
“They deserve good feedback, Jack. And you know not all of them take this long to grade. Some of them do not even turn one in at all.”
“True, but you are still taking too long, Deli. And they deserve a teacher who is not overwhelmed all the time. This assignment is more like an assessment.”
“Look, here, Jack …” she fired.
“Deli, I’m not trying to be an asshole,” he interrupted, reaching for her forearm. “Hell, I did the same thing you are doing my first year. Honestly, I was a mess, and I can tell you that it is not sustainable.”
Drops of Cerulean: A Novel Page 28