Elena Undone (12 page)
Authors: Nicole Conn
Nash and Tori began to giggle. “We’ll give you two some privacy.”
Elena smirked. They ran out being silly and Elena shook her head. Barry tilted his head, admiring her, his eyes burning over her body. “Anything I should know?”
“You know very well I’m going to Tyler’s event.”
Barry shook his head. She realized he had completely forgotten, as he did most things that were on
her
calendar. He nabbed a beer from the refrigerator, then settled against a counter, took a swig and then grimaced in appreciation as he got a much better vantage point to view his wife.
“God, Tyler was on his way to being one of the most amazing directors in film school and gave it all up for this nonsense.”
“Now the casserole takes about forty-five minutes.” Elena continued to buzz around the kitchen readying everything for her departure. “Don’t forget while you’re watching the game. You’ll burn it and the kids are really hungry.”
“He had it all, El…I just don’t get it.”
“Come on, Barry, you know he lives for this.”
Elena moved to him, pecked him on the cheek, but he set his beer down, and pulled her to him. “And I live for,” he eyed her with absolute appreciation, “…this.”
He held her a second, nuzzled into her neck, whispered, “Maybe you can wear this next date night.”
“If you’re lucky, maybe I’ll be home early.”
He was about to make a rejoinder, when she popped the rest of a cookie into his mouth. She winked at him and strolled out seductively for his benefit.
*
Peyton felt paralyzed sitting in Wave’s car as Wave examined the finishing touches to her makeup in the visor mirror. How Peyton loathed having to get dressed up. She’d much rather be attending this event in jeans and a T-shirt, instead of wearing her black slacks, turquoise silk top and black brocaded light wool duster. Wave had pestered her to wear her hair up, which she did on occasion, but now she wished she hadn’t. She just was not comfortable in public forums like this, her OCD was easily agitated and thrown into hyper-drive. She could do the small talk, but it took work and she wasn’t fond of large social gatherings involving people that she knew, much less one where the only person she could count on was Wave. That’s why she had always been such a loner.
ont collack">“That chick I went out with Friday?” Wave was curling her eyelashes and brought Peyton back to the moment. “Yeah, that bugger was dating Erin and my ex.”
Peyton rolled her eyes. “Look you knew she was a player and you said your eyes were wide open.”
Wave stopped what she was doing and stared at Peyton. “Yeah, well—I’m legally blind in my left eye—”
“You’re…you’re defenseless-hopeless.” Peyton couldn’t help but laugh.
“Why the hell do you think we’re going to this thing?” Wave joined her, laughing at herself, and then turned mock serious. “Lombard, look—just so we’re clear, this so isn’t desperation speaking here—this ‘love guru’ is supposed to be the absolute best there is.”
“Yes, you’ve said that several times now.” Peyton shook her head in futility.
“And the wholly undesperate part of me is willing to try anything at this point.”
“And why is it that I have to be here?”
“Because, if I meet my soul mate—you MUST approve. And I figured, we could find you one as well, while we’re at it.”
Peyton opened her car door. “This isn’t a Macy’s two-for-one sale.”
As Peyton and Wave walked through the thick crowd, the event had moved into full swing. Wave immediately dragged Peyton to the cocktail table and they both downed a flute of champagne.
“Much better then!” Wave announced. “Let’s mill.”
“You mill. I think I’m going to sit right here at this table and have another drink.”
“Good idea, but don’t get too snockered or your soul mate might not recognize you.”
“Just go.” Peyton made a shooing motion to urge Wave to leave her be. She stood and watched people, one of her favorite things anyway.
A chime rang three times and suddenly Peyton heard the most beautiful male voice sing, “In love, one and one are one…”
She was riveted by his extraordinary tone and soon forgot she was in this ridiculous place that seemed to her to be full of desperate people. Love came when love came. You couldn’t force it. She had learned to be very pragmatic about such things.
Tyler, dressed in a rich blue paisley shirt covered by a beautiful camel suede jacket, was fairly beaming when he turned to the crowd, as he lit two matches, pulled them together to ignite into one flame and from that lit one candle in symbolism. “It’s so unpredictable, yet as certain as the sun coming up every day—love.”
He smiled in celebration at the word, waited a moment, glancing over his audience. “Simple. Complex. Pure. Frenzied. All those many expressions we apply to this intangible thing…this thing we all want so desperately—always trying to explain the inexplicable. You cannot quantify or qualify love. It just is. But there are many kinds of love…what we all yearn for is that highest form of love. The soul mate…”
Peyton was only half listening. She was more amused by watching Wave scope out the women in the crowd. She knew Wave had “me system, which is pretty infallible. I look ’em over, gauge the gaydar, sniff out the psychos, and head straight for the most dysfunctional one of the bunch.”
“Your soul mate could be standing right next to you,” Tyler continued, “and you wouldn’t know it...”
Wave continued to check out the possibilities as Peyton nursed her drink.
“...this is because you have your true self, and what I call your ‘celebrity self’—the one that’s obsessed with ego, the one that wants that hunk, the thick brown hair, another ‘celebrity self.’”
Wave nudged Peyton in the arm and whispered, “See? This is good stuff.”
Peyton nodded, unconvinced, and then saw that Wave was actually referring to the gorgeous blonde standing across the way next to a tall dark haired woman whose back was turned to them both and that Wave, was, in fact, arching her best flirty eyebrow toward the slick-dressed blonde.
“These pairings never last and after each one, you wonder the same thing with your broken heart and bruised ego.”
Wave nodded vehemently. She definitely had this one down.
“Don’t confuse the attraction to the physical with the yearning of the soul. Your higher self, the soul-self, will always break through that and find its true soul partner—and, trust me—” he winked at Wave’s current target, the blonde, “it could well be the last person in the world you’d think of!”
Across the courtyard, Elena crooked her neck as she studied the hors d’oeurves, then checked her watch trying to figure out how long she had to stay for Tyler’s feelings not to be hurt, and considered how early she would need to be back home to fulfill her suggestion to Barry, and whether she really wanted to get home
that
early. Neither direction was particularly appealing.
Maybe she would just hang out here. She shook her head, angry with herself. She was near ovulation. She might as well be with Barry tonight and make him happy. She really needed to give him more affection in that way. She knew she held back—
Oooh
, a shiver went up her neck. It was getting cold. Maybe she should find her coat. Or better yet, another drink.
Peyton turned to look her way as Elena moved to get a drink. Elena suddenly felt that strange time shift, like weeks ago in the park. She turned. Looked around, confused. But before she could pur gehe coulsue it more fully, Lily smashed up against her.
“Oh my God, some of the crazies Tyler draws to these events.”
Elena smiled sympathetically. She knew that if she thought Tyler’s world was a bit on the woo-woo side, Lily with her sharp-as-a-tack corporate raider personality had no patience for it at all. Surprisingly, she had always been completely supportive of everything Tyler did, and if she was annoyed at times with Tyler’s incessant need to share his philosophy of love and to examine the elements of Soulemetry at every turn, she was also his most ardent and determined advocate.
Lily glanced behind her then whispered, “There’s a woman over there trying to hit on me.”
Elena gulped on her drink, smiled a bit uncomfortably, and then saw the woman with the flaming red hair saunter toward them.
“Seriously. Oh my God, she isn’t coming over here!”
But when Elena turned to really check her out she no longer saw the redhead at all.
Peyton.
There stood Peyton, the woman from the adoption orientation, the woman she had sent her silly e-mail to, the woman who had not answered it. She was struck again, by how attractive Peyton was, but in that uniquely authoritative manner. It unsettled her momentarily. She tried to figure out whether to go to her or to absolutely avoid her.
Peyton had been engaged in small talk when she felt a pull so strong that literally without even thinking she turned, and the moment she did, she saw her.
Elena. The woman from the adoption orientation. She looked different. Peyton recalled from the orientation that she was exotic, but she hadn’t remembered her being so…so, well, stunning. Oh my God, she had sent that e-mail and Peyton had never written back. God, she felt so stupid now. Why hadn’t she just sent something—anything—back to her?
They both held one another’s eyes for a long moment. Smiled.
As if she didn’t know what possessed her, Peyton moved toward Elena at the same time Tyler was joining her.
“Hey...I got your e-mail.” Peyton shrugged apologetically. “Sorry I didn’t get back to you.”
Elena shook the gentle hand she extended: no problem.
“Hello gorgeous.” Tyler embraced Elena, then pulling away, looked her up and down. Tyler turned to Peyton, as if he knew her. “Could she be any more dazzling? I ask you!”
Elena stood embarrassed, and Peyton nodded in the affirmative but before Tyler could go on, Elena stuttered, “Uhmm, you’ll never believe this Tyler...,” she indicated Peyton. “I met Peyton at the adoption orientation.”
“Yeah,” Peyton chimed in. “Small world.”
“What does that even mean?” Tyler arched an eyebrow, tsked a finger knowingly at them while Elena and Peyton considered one another. “Small world, six degrees of separation. Coincidence. I love how people just try to explain all of this away…with this delusion of accidents.”
Peyton shook her head, uncertain of how to respond to Tyler’s comments, especially when he seemed to be a gay man yet also seemed to be giving her a very thorough once over.
“Interesting,” Tyler remarked, then glanced from Peyton to Elena. “Okay, girls. I’m going to start my readings. I’ll check in with you,” he indicated Elena, “later.”
He dashed away, leaving them standing uncertain of what to do. The silence became deafening.
“Well...” Elena cleared her throat. “Since this was clearly preordained...want to get a drink?”
*
Very few stragglers remained at Tyler’s event. Wave had been talking so long to Tyler that her head was now upon his lap as she lamented her terrible history of love.
“Do you think I’m a player?”
“Of course you’re a player,” Tyler laughed. “After all, let’s call a spade a spade.”
“I suppose,” Wave conceded. “It’s just that I feel like I’m at the races, always picking the wrong horse.”
“That’s just it. You’re picking—you’re on the prowl. Stop forcing it. Has it ever occurred to you to let love find you?”
Wave considered a moment. “Feck no!”
“Feck?”
“Yeah, you know, fuck, feck—it’s all the same to me. I thought if I waited I’d be an eighty-eight-year-old bag of bones before anyone even took a shine. If I pick, then I only have myself to blame if it—”
“There’s no blame here, Wave. Love doesn’t work that way.”
“Okay, do your magic, Doc. I’ll follow all your rules, promise.”
*
Peyton and Elena had made their way through several drinks and hours of conversation, sitting isolated from the crowd at a small intimate table, with a waning candle between them in the corner of Tyler’s courtyard.
“Pe" wblack">yton...you’re so brave. To want to have a baby on your own...and after everything you’ve been through with your mother.” Elena gently touched Peyton’s arm, leaving it there as she continued to speak. “And you never...well, thought about getting married?”
Peyton moved her arm. “Oh, I was married.”
“I thought you said you were single…or that’s what I thought I heard you say at the adoption orientation.”
“I am. Now.”
“Oh...I’m sorry. How long were you married?”
“Six years.” Peyton took a sip. “How ’bout you?”
“Fifteen.” But Elena did not want to focus on her marriage. “Can I ask you what happened?”
“Oh, I guess all the predictable stuff. My partner couldn’t handle all the time I spent with my ailing mother, slept around, same old, same old.”
“Your business partner?” Elena was confused, looked at Peyton, who frowned as she looked back.
“Your uhmm, partner,” Elena said, and as she was saying it, it dawned on her what it meant. “Your
partner
. You’re uhmm— ”
“Gay.” They both said it at the same time.
“Oh, well, I think that is absolutely fine.” Elena’s voice sounded strained and forced. “It’s so not an issue for me,” she gushed and then rambled on. “I voted no on Prop 8—I mean yes, maybe—it was no right? I can’t remember, it was all so confusing. But I know I voted the right way. I mean—you know I voted
your
way.”
Peyton watched her struggling, and smiled.
“I just didn’t want you to think that it was a problem. I mean why would it be? Gosh, do I just keep sounding more and more ridiculous?”
“No... It’s fine,” Peyton reassured her. “You’re fine.”
Elena took a quick sip of champagne, set down her glass and then looked at Peyton with the most curious stare until Peyton had to look away and was quickly saved by Wave who walked over with notes in hand.
“Apparently I was the inspiration for looking for love in all the wrong places...” Then she stopped as she checked out Elena and Peyton, and smiled, clearly intrigued. “Well, I see this was a bust for me...but looks like you two—”
Elena looked completely confused. Peyton shut Wave down with a chilly, “Wave, this is Elena Winters.”
Wave shook Elena’s hand.
“Pleaaliack">sed to meet you.” Elena began to gather her belongings. “I’d love to stay but I...I’ve got to run. My husband has early services tomorrow—”
Peyton did a double take as Wave practically choked.
Elena realized she had surprised them and explained, “Barry’s a pastor.”
Now it was Peyton’s turn to be flabbergasted. Both Wave and Peyton tried to regain their composure as Elena stood.
“Uh, yeah.” Wave tried to act naturally. “That’s cool.”
“Well, uhmm.” Peyton felt unusually awkward. “It was great running into to you.”
“Nice meeting you, Wave. Goodbye Peyton.”
Elena waved to them both as she left. Wave turned to Peyton with a “what the fuck was that?” expression on her face, and sat beside her. “A pastor’s wife? Blimey.”
*
By the time Elena got home, everyone was fast asleep and she had so much energy she didn’t know what to do with herself. She folded all the laundry, undressed, took a long shower, and yet, she was still completely wide-eyed and awake. She was usually so tired at the end of the day and it was almost two a.m.
She sat at her laptop, finished all the church e-mails she had planned to send out the next day, cleaned up her calendar, reorganized her desk and came upon Peyton’s card. She picked it up, hesitated for several long moments, then began to type.
*
“Damn!” Peyton mumbled under her breath as she realized she had been reading the same page for the last half hour. Again, that intrusive thinking. Part of it she was used to. Dr. James always used to say, when the “garbage talk” gets into your head you just have to shut it down. And for the most part, Peyton had finessed the skill of rechanneling silly OCD ruminations. But she had been going back over the conversation with Elena, hoping she hadn’t said anything to offend her, realizing how shocked she had been to hear that Peyton was gay, then mad at herself for caring, trying to toss her own homophobia aside. So what if she had surprised her? It was this kind of thinking that she still hadn’t conquered, and it was as if her OCD took great delight in tormenting her.
She didn’t know what to think. She had been reading for several hours now. She just couldn’t get to sleep. She had been researching all these incredible women and maybe all that crisp nighttime air had invigorated her. She picked up another book and realized there was a folded piece of paper serving as a bookmark. She opened it up and read Wave’s prescription:
You just need to do stuff that makes you feel good. Good. Not bad.
She grinned, folded up the paper, then hopped out oShehopped f bed and dashed to her laptop. She found the old e-mail from Elena and typed.
Hi Elena…it was great seeing you at your friend’s event tonight.
But as she was sitting, mulling over what to say, an e-mail came in from Elena.
Hi Peyton, ...so great to see you again. Would you like to get together for lunch? I don’t know what your schedule is like, but maybe tomorrow? Elena
Peyton thought it was pretty uncanny that Elena’s e-mail had come in the same time she was about to send her one. She smiled and was about to write a response when a flicker of anxiety ran over her. She considered the e-mail for the next couple of minutes, and finally wrote:
Hi Elena, yes it was great to see you too. Lunch sounds fine. Let me know when and where…Peyton.
*
Peyton proceeded to spend the rest of the night hurling her guts out. She had the worst stomach flu she could remember. She was loath to throw up—it was a component of her OCD—even when she drank too much. She never EVER threw up, because she simply willed herself not to. It completely freaked her out. Wave, who easily chucked, always said, “Ahh, much better—you don’t know what you’re missin’!” To which Peyton replied that she’d rather be miserable a whole day than have to go through that kind of bodily anguish.
“You’re just a big baby,” Wave would say.
“No, it’s against the natural order of things.”
“Keeping it in is, sister, make no mistake!”
They had just had this very conversation in the last few days, although now Peyton was reconsidering her position. Maybe Wave was right, because she felt like she was going to die and the only relief she had was throwing up.
The phone rang. Peyton couldn’t move. She lay in a fetal position upon her large California King bed. She let the call go to the answering machine.
“Hi Peyton.” It was Elena’s voice. Peyton moved her head so she could hear a little better. “Oh, you sounded awful on your message. I’m so sorry you don’t feel well. Don’t worry about lunch—maybe another time?” A long pause. “Do you need anything? I’d be happy to drop something by...”
Wave entered the bedroom bearing a tray with clear broth, ginger ale and aspirin and stood listening along with Peyton.
“You know, no one likes to be sick on their own. I could bring you something—well anything, actually. You know what I could bring you? Soup! Soup…or...whatever you need. Uhmm, okay...let me know. Goodbye.”
“Soup?” Wave arched an eyebrow. “Seriously? Oh...now that’s smooth.”
*
Elena checked her voice mail and then returned to the kitchen to continue dinner. She wondered if Peyton had even gotten her message, wondered if she were sick with the flu, wondered if she had made up the excuse. No, she wouldn’t do that, right? Why would she do that? Was she just being nice the other night? Simply too busy? All these things kept running through her mind when Tori popped in, a blue silk tie wrapped about her forehead like an old hippie. She dipped a finger into her casserole, smiled yummy.
“Did you know a snail can sleep for three years?” Tori snatched another bite and Elena pretended to slap her hand. “Yeah, I think Nash may very well be trying to beat that record. God, can you imagine not being able to get out of a sleep—like a coma—like this guy who has one of the longest recorded comas in history for—get this—twenty years! He’s like nineteen, has some random car accident and wakes up when he’s thirty-nine. Can you even, like, get down with how that would feel? Man, just an ordinary Friday you, like, wake up only to discover that you’d literally slept half your life away?”
Something about Tori’s words struck a nerve. As Elena considered them the phone rang. Tori moved to get the phone because she was always the one to pick it up and suddenly Elena was lunging for it. Tori arched an eyebrow as Elena answered too eagerly.
“Yes?” Breathless and then Elena’s mouth tightened. “Yes? Oh...hi, Millie.”
Tori made a face at her.
See, that’s what you get for picking up the phone!
“Hey you know, we’re in the middle of dinner, Millie. May I call you back?”
Elena hung up, nonchalant, as Tori watched her with the eagle eye. Before Tori could pry, Nash entered all bed head and yawning, in gray sweats and a striped rugby shirt. Elena turned to her son, gently ruffled his hair.
“Nap much?” Tori teased. Nash ignored her and then Barry joined them through the opposite kitchen door.
Tori quickly jumped up to pour Barry a glass of iced tea, handed it to him along with a quick hug.
“Hey peanut, thanks.” He took a sip, set it down, considered Tori a moment. “Tori, you know we love you—but can you tell your folks we plan to take you as a deduction this year on our taxes?”
“Actually Poppa Bear, you could deduct the cost of babysitting me as a charitable deduction—that’s actually allowed given the fact that Elena spends so much time volunteeroume voluing.”
“So now you’re reading the tax code?” Barry was floored.
“Yeah, workin’ on a project for school. Plus it’s a stunning fix for insomnia.”
Elena smiled, pulled Tori into a big hug. “Please tell me it worked.”
“Well, I didn’t find it endlessly fascinating, but it had good structure, narrative…I laughed, I cried...”
*
Several hours later, Elena gently tapped on Nash’s bedroom door while everyone else was getting ready for bed. She tiptoed in. Nash was sprawled out over the double bed playing on one of his perennial DES games. She pushed aside some of his homework, sat on the side of the bed.
“Is everything okay at Tori’s? She’s been here even more than usual.”
“Nope. Not really.” Nash sighed, finishing the last strokes of a virtual golf game. “He’s back out on the road and she’s back into her weirdo mania thing she does—working all night, sleeping during the day. I don’t think Tori’s even seen her mom since last week.”