Confessions From A Coffee Shop (20 page)

Dad and Uncle Roger broke into a cheer, and I glanced at the TV. Napoli hit a homerun. All of us clinked our beer bottles in celebration.

“What’s the ruckus?” Mom sat on the arm of the wicker couch.

“A homerun.” Dad didn’t even look in her direction. He was engrossed in the game, or he pretended to be.

I whispered, “What are you three talking about?”

“Sex,” Mom whispered back.

Roger overheard, and sniggered, and Mom huffed and walked away in disgust.

I was able to see Roger’s good points, but my mother wasn’t. Of course, Aunt Barbara said that Mom never had liked him. When Roger was wooing my aunt, early in their courtship he had shown up for a date bearing flowers for my aunt and chocolates for my mother, to soften her up some.

It didn’t work.

Mom had thrown the box on the ground and spat on it. My aunt laughed it off, explaining that Nell was just a spoiled brat. Mom was eleven at the time, and my aunt was nineteen. She had married Roger two years later, leaving Mom alone with their parents. My grandparents were solid people, but they were as loving as ice cubes. I was sad when they passed away, but not devastated. I think I was more saddened that I didn’t really miss them.

My aunt appeared in the doorway. Sneering at the TV, she announced, “Dinner’s on.”

Uncle Roger paused the play-off game so we could watch the rest later. We took our seats at the large mahogany table that had been in the family for generations. People back then were much shorter. Even though we sat at this table all of the time, all of us struggled to get our long legs under it comfortably without severing a kneecap. I bumped my knee and almost upset all the water and wine glasses.

Mom steadied her wineglass and shot me an admonishing look. The tablecloth was another family heirloom, crocheted by my grandmother. Spilling red wine all over it would not be looked upon too kindly by my aunt, even if she usually was the most forgiving person I knew.

Kat patted my leg under the table, and then rested her hand in between my legs. Her touch found my clit immediately. The feeling was sensational and frustrating simultaneously. I coughed to stifle a groan.

No one else seemed to notice that my girlfriend was trying to get me to come at the dinner table. I placed her hand back on her own leg, thinking that she would never attempt such a thing around her own family.

She smiled guiltily. Part of me was tempted to put her hand back, but the perverts in my family would surely recognize if my eyes suddenly rolled back in my head. Actually, I thought even prudes would be able to put two and two together.

I hoped my eyes promised “later,” but to distract Kat, I asked Aunt Barbara, “So when’s the next big opening at the gallery?”

Mom dropped her salad fork, and Kat squeezed my hand hard.

“Uh…‌I need to check my calendar, but soon.” She looked at Kat and repeated, “Soon.”

“Is it a new artist, or one of your faves?” I let go of Kat’s hand and started eating my salad.

“A new talent. I recently discovered her …” my aunt mumbled.

“So Warren, how was work this week?” Mom pounced on my father.

Both Kat and my aunt looked relieved. I wondered if the new artist was risqué. My aunt had once showed an artist that was anti-abortion, and the pro-choicers got up in arms. My aunt, a diehard pro-choice advocate, refused to close the show early. She believed just as firmly in the right to free speech. Kat hung out at the gallery with my aunt quite a bit, so I figured she would probably know more about the new artist. I made a mental note to ask her later if I didn’t get distracted.

I peeked down at Kat’s revealing shirt, catching her eye. She leaned forward to pick up her wineglass, obviously so I could get a better look.

“Work? It was fine.” Dad tipped his beer into a pint glass. Beer bottles were not allowed at my aunt’s table. On the deck, yes, but not here.

“Really? Because I stopped by yesterday and your secretary said she hadn’t seen you for days.”

My father set his beer down slowly. From the look on his face, I knew he was weighing his response carefully.

“Uh‌—‌”

My mother interrupted. “When you left yesterday, you said you had meetings all day. Why the lie?”

“What exactly are you accusing me of, Nell?” My father wasn’t normally the combative type, but he had sure thrown the gauntlet down today.

“I think you’re having an affair.”

“Mother!” I interrupted.

“What, Cori? You told me yesterday to ask him. After I left you two”‌—‌ she motioned to my aunt and me‌—‌“I went to ask him. He wasn’t available.”

“I didn’t say ask him during our family dinner,” I muttered through clenched teeth.

Kat placed a tender hand on my thigh to support me.

Mom harrumphed and ambushed him again. “Just be honest, Warren, are you fucking someone? Goodness knows you aren’t fucking me.”

“Who do you think I am?” Dad winced and looked at my aunt, who plonked the bowl of bread down angrily. “Bill Clinton?” asked Dad, trying to cover his blunder.

Roger stared down at his plate, his face betraying no emotion.

Mom wasn’t deterred by the arctic atmosphere at the table. “Tell me! Who are you fucking?”

My father stood abruptly, and all of us reached for our glasses to spare the tablecloth. “I quit my fucking job, that’s why I wasn’t there!” He stormed from the room.

“Do you expect me to believe that?” shouted my mother.

Dad rushed back into the room. “Yes! Because it’s the truth. I couldn’t stand working there anymore. They don’t respect me and…‌and I just got fed up. I left weeks ago, and I don’t intend to go back. No matter what you say!”

Twice in two days, my mother was stunned into silence.

The two of them stared at each other. Dad’s shoulders heaved up and down. Mom never blinked. The rest of us sat frozen in our chairs. Roger still stared at his plate.

Finally, my aunt broke the silence. “Would anyone like some bread?”

This rallied my uncle, who motioned for her to pass it to him. She handed the basket to Kat, who handed it to me, and I gave it to Roger. No one dared look at the warring couple.

“Are you telling me the truth?” my mother finally demanded.

“Yes,” hissed my father.

“Good. You’re too good for that company. I can’t believe you stayed there for twenty years.” Mom adjusted her shirt and clutched at her wineglass before taking a sip.

Dad took his seat, placing his napkin back over his lap.

“Well, now that we have that settled, I’ll bring out the main course,” said Aunt Barbara.

Kat and I followed her to the kitchen. “Are you okay?” I asked my aunt as she pulled the over-cooked roast from the oven.

“Me? Of course.” Her stony face told me otherwise.

Kat took the ruined roast from her, and I gave my aunt a hug.

She patted my cheek tenderly. “Let’s get back before your Mom finds some more dirty laundry to air. Goodness knows she won’t rest until she dies.”

* * *

Later that night, Kat and I lounged in the hot tub out back.

“Have your family dinners always been so entertaining?” Kat grabbed the champagne from the ice bucket and refilled her glass.

“Oh, you know the answer to that, although you did miss the Thanksgiving when Mom dumped an entire bottle of red wine in Dad’s lap.” I closed my eyes trying to remember why. “For the life of me, I don’t remember the circumstances. My mother is very passionate.”

“I nearly fell off my chair when your father said he wasn’t like Roger. Why do you think your aunt puts up with his affairs?”

“Fear of being alone? She loves him? She adores him as a friend? I doubt any of us will ever know the true reason.” I played with some bubbles on the surface of the water.

“Have you ever seen her nudes?”

I looked up at her in surprise. “Why in the world would I want to see my aunt in the nude?”

Kat splashed at my face playfully. “Not her in the nude. Her nude paintings.”

I felt silly. “No, I thought she only did abstracts.”

“She showed them to me once. They were all of the same young man. When I asked her if she knew him, her eyes clouded over, and she said, ‘Yes, a very long time ago.’ The way she said it broke my heart.”

I sat up in the water. “Now that you mention it, Mom told me once, years ago, that Aunt Barbara had been madly in love with a poor boy she met a year into her relationship with Roger. Her parents found out and put a stop to it. It was very Gatsby-like.”

Kat pulled my foot out to massage it. “To be honest, I think your aunt idealizes love but doesn’t really want to be in love. She can’t let anyone too close to her. She’s too independent‌—‌like someone else I know.” She tickled my foot.

“Hey now, I let you in.” I wiggled my foot free. “I think that’s why my mom and my aunt are so supportive of me. They don’t want to be like their parents: stiff-upper lips and showing no feelings. Mom takes it to an extreme. Aunt Barbra doesn’t show her feelings a lot, but she’s nothing like my grandfather. You could have stabbed him in the leg with a fork at the dinner table and he would have calmly asked someone to pass him the butter.”

“How come he didn’t leave you any money?”

I positioned a jet to blast at my lower back, to ease my pain. “He did. I’ll have access to it when I’m fifty.”

“Fifty!”

“Yep. He told me he wanted me to succeed on my own. So far I haven’t lived up to his expectations.”

“Will you stop that? You have more drive in your little finger than most people will ever have.” Kat stood up in the tub and came to me, unconcerned about her nudity. “It’s only a matter of time, Cori. We’ll be fine, I promise you.”

If any of our neighbors were awake and paying attention, they would have seen quite a show; however, most of them were in their sixties. My mother teased that it was perfect for me to live in a “retirement community” because I always acted like an old fogey anyway. When I saw this house, I didn’t care that I would be the youngest person on the street. All of my neighbors had perfectly manicured lawns, never played loud music, and left me alone, for the most part. Mrs. Henderson does shake her head a lot when she spies Kat mowing the lawn in cut-off jeans and a bikini top. Her husband usually sits on the front porch and watches Kat mow, all the while stroking the top of his bald head. I’m pretty sure he’d stroke a different bald body part if he could get away with it. He’s eighty years old. I fear he’ll have a coronary one day while he’s ogling my girlfriend. Still, I would never discourage Kat from wearing her “gardener’s” uniform. If I’m home, I sit on the front porch in my rocking chair and pretend to read. You should see the outfit she wears to clean the shower! When she first proposed that she’d be like a housewife from the fifties, I scoffed. It didn’t take me long to change my tune.

I sighed. “Sometimes I feel as though I have the perfect ending, and other times I just want to put a match to the entire thing and just be content with teaching. You know what they say, ‘Those who can, do; those who can’t, teach.’ Maybe I should just accept it and stop torturing myself.” I sipped some champagne.

Kat nestled her head on my shoulder.

“It doesn’t help being Nell Tisdale’s daughter. Her writing is brilliant, and I know I’ll always be compared to her.”

Leaning my head back on the lip of the hot tub, I stared at the dark sky. The moon was almost full, its brilliance muted by swiftly moving clouds that gave the illusion the moon was actually falling. I eyed Kat and gestured to the sky. “Look at that. It looks like it’s falling.” She tilted her head to watch, a curious expression on her face.

“Maybe that’s the end to my story. Have the moon fall from the sky and obliterate my characters and all of life. That would simplify things.” I sighed, knowing I sounded like a fool.

Kat said nothing for a few moments. Turning me around, she started to massage my shoulders. “You carry all your tension here.” Her fingers dug in, deep, and I whimpered with the pain and the relief.

“I know you put a lot of pressure on yourself,” she continued, “but I want you to know that you are the only one who does. No matter what happens, I’ll be proud of you.” She leaned over my left shoulder and peered into my eyes. “And so will your mom and aunt. Stop thinking so much. I know that’s like telling a rattlesnake not to rattle, but they only do that when alarmed. Calm down, and it will work out.”

Leaning against her, I said, “Thank you. You may have to repeat that speech before I finish my novel. Now, in regards to getting my mind off things, care to help me?” I stood, revealing my nakedness, and reached for her hand to help her out of the tub.

“Do you have anything in particular in mind?” she asked seductively.

I stepped out of the tub and wrapped her up in her robe before putting mine on. “I was thinking of a game in front of the fire,” I answered.

“A game? Hope you don’t have strip poker in mind‌—‌we’re already naked.”

“I’m sure I can come up with something more entertaining.”

Chapter Eleven

Kat opened the shades in the bedroom and sunlight poured in, causing me to roll over in bed and hide my head under a pillow.

“Kat!” I felt the bed lurch to the side when she sat down next to me.

Stroking my back, she said, “Time to get up, sleepyhead.”

“I don’t want to,” I mumbled.

“You have to. We have plans.”

I lifted the pillow to peek at the alarm clock on the nightstand. “Plans? It’s only seven a.m.‌—‌on a Sunday. Please tell me we aren’t having breakfast with my family.”

“We aren’t having breakfast with your family.” She paused and prepared me with a sweet smile. “We’re having breakfast with mine.”

I groaned. We usually had dinner with her parents once a month. I wasn’t in the mood to start a new tradition: Sunday brunch with the Finns.

“I’m not excited about it either, trust me. But my mom called yesterday and asked. How could I say no?”

I lifted the pillow off my head and watched Kat put on a diamond earring. She wore a long, flowing purple skirt and a plain white sweater. Diamond earrings replaced her usual funky, dangling earrings, and her makeup was nearly non-existent. She looked like she was going to church.