Elena Undone (14 page)

     We met—of all places—at the dog groomer’s,” Delilah giggles, her bouffant hair jiggling right along with her. In her mid-sixties Delilah is all frill and jiggle, an aging beauty queen from the South. “We’d both been going there for at least five years—probably even ran into one another a time or two. We both showed dogs in competition—and became fast friends. But we were both married.”
     “Delilah and I were attracted to one another from the first moment,” remarks Gary, mid-fifties, very distinguished, very Stewart Granger. “For years we did the shows together —never acted on it—never even told one another.”
     “Married almost thirty years and I discover the day my husband passed away that he had been seeing Gary’s wife for half of them! Can you even imagine?”
     “Yeah, they’d hook up while we were traveling to the shows.” Gary glances at Delilah as if to say how could they not have known it, but shrugs. “Don’t even waste time resenting it. We had the best time just being together, doing our favorite thing together...”
     “And now darling...” Delilah snuggles their Cavalier Spaniel. “Gary and I are happier than we could ever dream possible.”

Peyton opened the door and Elena stood there. She was dressed a bit more casually this visit. Rather than wearing her drab plain church wear, Elena was in jeans, and a sky-blue sweater. Instead of her hair being in “the severe Indian braid,” as Wave had quipped, adding, “Hell, she looks like bloody Pocahontas! You ever think she lets that thing free?” Elena’s hair was now pulled up in a clip, her full thick brown hair falling softly at her shoulders.

“Hey.” Peyton realized she was standing there rather foolishly.

“You have a beautiful house, Peyton,” Elena remarked, trying to understand Peyton’s confused expression.

“Oh…oh thank you. Please, come in.”

Peyton gave Elena a brief tour of her family home, explaining that her mother had left her the house, and she had always loved living out in La Canada, far enough away from Los Angeles so she could feel like she was up in the woods, secluded, but close enough to get to meetings and all the stuff that was required for her work.

Elena was impressed with the beautiful home, struck by how differently Peyton had decorated her environment, how masculine the wood tones were, the huge dining room table, the artistic prints, the sage green walls. It was in stark contrast to her own home, which was very plain, very simple, if cluttered. Peyton’s home was cluttered in a different way; instead of laundry, books littered the corners. Instead of what Elena always referred to iad eferredn her head as domestic drab dailyness, Peyton’s house bordered on exotic. But not uncomfortably so. It was a completely different kind of “lived in” feel than Elena was used to, but Peyton’s style intrigued her.

Peyton nabbed a bottle of wine and two glasses and then directed Elena out to the gazebo where all the work was laid out for them to discuss.

Several hours later, with the sun just beginning to fall, Elena and Peyton lounged comfortably on the outside minicouch as they started a fresh bottle of wine. True to form they had completed remarkably little work, speaking about their families, one story winding to the next, filling in the blanks, exploring one another’s universes, eagerly gathering details.

Elena noticed that after several glasses of wine Peyton had become more relaxed, her body more comfortably settled against one side of the poolside settee, while she sat at the other. She noticed Peyton’s hands. Her fingers were long and lean, masculine almost. Strong. She used her hands when she spoke, and Elena found them mesmerizing. “...I thought she’d be good to raise a child with you know...make a family...” Peyton mused. “Guess I was wrong…”

“Trust me, I do understand.” Elena looked at Peyton with sympathy. “Barry and I really only have one thing in common and that’s our son, so, I know how people get to a place where it’s more about the children than about…them.”

Peyton glanced at Elena as she took a sip of wine. She seemed so carefree here, it was delightful watching her unwind. Elena sat across from her, and Peyton noted Elena mindlessly playing with the thread upon the throw that covered both their legs as the evening had grown cool. “Sometimes I think I only married Barry to rebel against my parents.”

Peyton looked confused. “My father’s very old school. Very Indian with a quiet but stern hand. My mother’s from Spain, and very Catholic.”

“Now that’s a lethal combination.” Peyton grinned.

“Yes it is!” Elena laughed. “For years I felt like...like a mummy.” Elena clasped a hand to her throat. “I felt like I was going to suffocate from their inflexibility—their extreme dedication to ritual and tradition. They even spoke of marrying me off to a distant cousin when I turned eighteen. I couldn’t bear it.” Elena looked down, sadly. “So…I began to stage my great revolt and—let me tell you when I was accepted at the Academy in London it was almost more than they could handle. What could be worse for my parents than for me to be an actress and marry an actor of all things?”

They both shared a laugh, and Peyton refilled their wineglasses.

“That’s where I met him.” Elena glanced over to the pool, and Peyton was struck again by how deeply brown and intense Elena’s eyes were. “At first I thought I was happy with Barry...he offered me freedom for the first time in my life. We got married…almost right away…actually I got pregnant.”

“Ohhhh.” Peyton wasn’t sure how to acknowledge this intimate detawn ntimateil in Elena’s life.

“Yes, shortly after we discovered we were going to have a baby we quickly got married, moved to New York, and it was all very exciting. Nash became my sole focus and he brought me so much joy. Barry was struggling with his acting, and even when we had so very little—my family cut me off until they visited and met their grandchild a few years later—I still felt, well, as happy as I believed possible.”

Elena sighed. “But as the years went by, I kept wondering, what’s wrong with me? Why don’t I feel what everyone else seems to feel? Why was it all so empty? I...I tried to talk to Barry about it…I even asked him once if he wanted a divorce but by then we had moved to LA, Barry had become a pastor and we were already so involved in the church. And, then we lost...”

Elena began to tear up, but quickly covered. “I hit a rough patch...”

Peyton felt Elena’s sadness, saw the serious grief in her eyes and knew there was more to this. She looked away and gave Elena the space she needed to continue.

“I don’t know...sometimes I think marriage is just a series of mutual compromises that simply become the glue...” Elena sighed again, and then looked directly at Peyton. “But I’ve never been in love with him.”

Peyton could only hold Elena’s gaze for so long. She glanced down, then asked, “But he’s in love with you?”

“I guess so…I don’t know,” Elena sighed. “He’s in love with the picture.”

They both turned to look at the shimmering pool and then Elena turned back to her, stared right into her and said, “I’ve never been in love.”

Again, Peyton found it difficult to deflect Elena’s intensity. “You’ve never been in love?”

“No. I’m nearly forty and it’s never happened...I told Tyler I’ve come to peace with it.” They sat in silence for a moment. “Maybe some of us aren’t meant to find those soul mates Tyler believes are out there. That we’re not destined to find a soul mate this time around,” Elena summed up and then touched Peyton’s knee. “Oh my gosh…I’ve just gone on and on. Enough about me. What about you?”

Peyton watched Elena carefully and noted her fragility at the trembling corners of her mouth.

“Come on, Peyton…please, I didn’t mean to monopolize the conversation…it’s just been so long since I felt…” She looked at her again, direct, “safe I suppose safe is the right word—enough to share this with anyone.”

Peyton shook her head. She didn’t want the focus shifted. “Don’t know about soul mates, but after Margaret...after that...” She tried Southern bravado. “Frankly, my dear, I never want to see another lesbian as long as I live.”

Elena laughed and grazed Peyton’s hand, holding head., holdir fingers there for some time.

“All I really want is a baby.” Peyton removed her hand. “To make a family...”

Peyton picked up her wine and after some time glanced at Elena, who was looking directly at her, but with something new, a sort of revelation.

“I feel like I’ve known you forever.”

This time Peyton did not turn from Elena’s direct gaze.

     “I was a nun for years, with the Sisters of Charity, working at the soup kitchen...and in she comes, looking like the bad side of awful...”
     Amelia turns to Jackie. The delicate white nun, Amelia, and the solidly butch and dark African American, Jackie, are a study in absolute opposites. Amelia appears even more pale as she leans toward the dark, tattooed Jackie, who smiles now, but in contrast to Amelia’s confidence, appears timid, diffident.
     “I got Jackie into treatment, found her a welding job, and got her back on her feet…and somewhere in all of that I fell deeply in love with her.” Amelia turns to Jackie, looks at her with deep affection. “But it was against everything I believed in. I prayed, I went into seclusion but nothing, nothing could take her from my mind.”
     Amelia shakes head, and then speaks so softly she is barely audible. “And then one morning I woke, in the hospital.”
     “God, I was scared,” Jackie pipes in. “You were so pale.”
     “I had apparently passed out from dehydration. When I came to, there was Jackie. Sitting there, like an angel.”
     “The janitor at the hospital was in recovery with me. Called me and let me know Amelia was there. I never thought I would see her again...when I did I...” Jackie is overtaken with emotion. Amelia helps her regain composure.
     “In that moment, even though my entire life had been devoted to church and the Catholic scripture, I knew my God loved Jackie.” Amelia speaks with utter commitment “...And loved me loving Jackie.”

Tyler, ensconced in his small but very professional editing bay where he cut all of the stories that he aired as his Soulemetry webisodes, edited this beautiful material together. He was astonished at the physical difference between the two women. There could be no better example of opposites attracting than these two and he found it ironic that the dark Jackie was far more shy and deferential while the pale and slender nun was defiant and confident. Well, he thought, that’s what love does. Brings out the best in everyone. As he continued his work he noted out of the corner of his eye that Elena was watching him. When he turned to her, he saw a new and gentle light in her eyes.