Outing of the Heart (4 page)
Read Outing of the Heart Online
Authors: Lisa Ann Harper
Carmel took herself to the bedroom where she could speak more freely if the need arose. Niece and uncle didn't say much while they waited, grave faced. They could hear her talking, but the sounds were almost inaudible. Time dragged on and she began to feel her dream slipping away. With the possibility of a refusal looming, she realized she wanted this move very badly. If her mom said
âno'
now, it would be like her whole future had been shot down in flames. She released her grip on her hands and expelled her breath slowly. At last Carmel reappeared. She was smiling.
âOkay, Ten. It's possible, but there are some conditions,' she cautioned. Tenille jumped up and gave her aunt a big hug, then turned to her uncle, wreathed in smiles and gave him one too, her face flushed with pleasure.
âHold on, Tennie, let me finish.'
She sat herself back down on the hassock by the coffee table, hugging her knees.
âDoris finally agreed, but she took a bit of persuading. You can move ⦠as long as you let us check out the accommodation ⦠before you sign papers or hand over key money. If we like the neighbourhood ⦠and the people, she's willing to go on our say so.'
âOh Auntie, that's wonderful. Of course you can check it out. In fact I'd like that. I want everything to be satisfactory too,' she acknowledged, spirits soaring with elation. She had accomplished a major triumph.
As she undressed a sobering thought arose. Getting the right place to suit everybody's demands might not be so easy. No matter, she shrugged the doubt away, nothing was going to stop her now. Her determination hardened. She would pursue her dream to become a Flamenco dancer. They said she had the aptitude, the talent and the look. She would supply the hard work. She made a solemn resolution. Her life would be dedicated to dance. She would do all that it might take. She would give it a year and see how far along she had gotten. If that turned out not to be very far, well it wouldn't be for want of trying. Climbing into bed, the decision was made to begin the search the very next day. “
How exciting life is
,” was her last thought before sleep.
*Â Â Â *Â Â Â *
Tenille arose extra early, planning to buy a Toronto Star and look through the classifieds before work. She wanted to read it on the train, but it was too crowded. There was hardly space to breathe, let alone open a paper, sitting or standing. She waited 'til she arrived, then combed through the apartments for rent pages, highlighting some promising ones looking good in print, but who knew what they were really like? She realized this was the first time she had had to confront the business of finding her own accommodation.
The first apartment was near the Lake at Front and Spadina Streets. No rental had been given, but this would be a handy location. Easy access to public transport and close to all amenities. The building had an imposing lobby, equipped with elaborate security systems as well as security guard. The superintendent took her up to the eighth floor and unlocked the door into a magnificently spacious apartment, the view overlooking the water, breathtaking. It was unfurnished except for deeply piled carpeting and the drapes. When the superintendent named the rental, Tenille was ready to have the floor swallow her up, unable to get away fast enough. No wonder it had appealed, the kitchen and bathrooms were to die for - all that travertine and granite. At the store they wanted to know how she'd fared. Too embarrassed to admit of her ignorance, she had made the excuse it was too big, but felt her foolishness all the same.
Throughout the afternoon her plight pursued her. She wanted downtown. On her wages she couldn't afford a prestigious location. What she could afford would be out in the boondocks, but she was trying to get away from there. She voiced her dilemma to Beris during coffee.
âHave you considered a basement apartment? You can usually find one of those in the inner core at a more reasonable rent.'
âI hadn't, but I'll look again. Thanks, Beris.'
“A basement? Gee, Carmel wouldn't go for that.”
She had the weekend off; the search continued. What a disappointing occupation; the hurdles looked insurmountable and just when everything else was looking up. She had phoned a ton of what seemed likely places, but they were gone. Reducing her list to a handful, she started the rounds. What a depressing task. Yes, the location was close to the city centre, but the houses were old and run down; the apartments dank and musty. Some were downright dirty and overrun with cockroaches.
The following week the search continued in her lunch breaks. She wasn't about to give up yet, but she felt close to it sometimes. Some landlords she was meeting were uncouth and unkempt, eyeing her up and down, making her feel ill at ease. She became conscious of her vulnerability; alone, in a private space. Yes, they were apartments she could afford, but no, not ones she would care to live in. After these experiences it would be agents only, but this fared no better. They seemed unsavory characters too. It was a relief to get back to Barkdene Hills Avenue and its reassuring security. Nonetheless, she wouldn't let her resolve weaken. If she wanted to branch out on her own then these were the circumstances she would have to face. Her heart gave a beat of apprehension. “
Don't give in before you've even started, Ten
,” she remonstrated with herself. “
Develop a backbone. Talk is the easy part.
”
By the time Thursday came round and the next class, she was still no nearer finding her little nest. So much running about had eaten into the practise time. Her performance was weak, Belen noticed, but made no comment. Not every session could be so good.
Devon did manage a short spell with Tenille, but class wasn't a place where they could talk. She arranged to see her after work the next day, giving her an intimate smile as she said: âLike last time.' She was happy with the plan, a welcome escape from all the trekking about she'd been doing.
Coffee with the gang turned out to be quite propitious for Tenille. They enquired as to her progress and she had to admit she hadn't gotten very far. They commiserated. Wendy had been through it herself a few years age. Gloom momentarily sank their spirits, being disappointed she couldn't be more a part of their team. Suddenly Marissa snapped her fingers.
âI've got it.'
They turned to her in amazement, their scrutiny sharpened. âTrue.'
She had their undivided attention and smiled, gleefully. âThere's this friend of my mother's. They've recently fixed up their basement, converted half into a small, self-contained unit.'
âSounds good so far. What's the catch?' Ingrid interjected contentiously, looking around the table. âIn my experience, there's always something to take the gloss off,' she stated, pessimistically. âWait Ingrid,' Marissa responded impatiently. âThere's no catch.'
âLet her get on,' Daphne put in, turning back to Marissa.
âMrs. Sandrelli did have it rented to some guy, but last I heard, he wasn't working out. They were thinking of telling him to move on, or something. I'm not sure. Anyway â¦' she dismissed this in a rush â â¦there could be an apartment available for you there.' She studied Tenille above the rim of her cup, a gentle smile on her lips, fine lines fanning out from the corners of her grey eyes.
âOh Marissa, do you think so?' Tenille asked, as she clutched hopefully at the possibility. âThat would be wonderful.'
âWhere is it?' Ingrid still sounded doubtful, but she wanted it to be okay, for all their sakes.
âThey live on McPherson, at Dupont. It's a nice part of town, not far from the subway.' She turned to Tenille, that excited gleam back in her eye as she watched a smile, so full of life play about the soft mouth, it twisted her heart. The way this was working out, it would make Tenille her special friend. âYou would have the choice of both the north-south line at Dupont and the east-west at Spadina.' She didn't know the downtown stations yet, but it sounded good.
âListen, I'll look into it for you and let you know how things stand as soon as I can, okay?' she assured her eagerly.
With this resolve the little group broke up. Tenille felt more optimistic than she had all week. Her thoughts spun with the prospects opening up. The train took no time at all, then it was her stop. She didn't phone from Warden, Roger and Carmel had a theatre engagement, but waiting in the cold and draughty loading bay, buffeted by the capricious, swirling wind meant nothing to her; she had her dreams to keep her warm ⦠and tomorrow she would be spending time with Devon. Just the two of them.
The bus being almost empty, Tenille sat closer to the front. The driver was quite taken with this dark beauty and made a pleasant enquiry. Was she was returning from night school? Her outlook so positive, she happily shared her good news, the words tumbling out in an excited torrent, fighting over her tongue for space. He checked in his interior mirror. She was so vibrant and captivating, not spoiled by people turning her head, making her self-conscious.
*Â Â Â *Â Â Â *
Devon's day had not been going well. Her father had given her a severe dressing down: Why was it she could never be found when she was in? She must be more reliable meeting deadlines. âAnd another thing,' he'd added: âWhat have you been up to that you take such long lunches?'
John Armstrong doted on his daughter, but her mother had been getting onto him of late and the pressure was now translating into this unusual outburst. She never visited the house; didn't phone. He saw her fairly regularly, but Esme was feeling estranged. She'd accused him of keeping Devon to himself. Such foolishness.
He was a successful, self-made man. This success had come at the expense of his wife, a woman he'd married when they were both young, but who had not been comfortable in making the transition from struggling student's help-meet, to wife of a corporate citizen. Their daughter, on the other hand, had all the hallmarks of a
spoiled little rich girl
. Now personalities clashed and it was too much for John. He retreated more frequently into his business world where he knew the rules; could play the game with dashing flair. He was well-meaning, his heart in the right place, but no match for his astute daughter. She generally got her own way, knowing just how to make her dad feel good. That morning she had to acknowledge she had been taking liberties. âI've been getting rather involved with my dancing, Pop. Very soon now we're putting on a show and we've been working hard getting it together,' she explained. âBut everything's Al. You'll have to come see it.' This had been followed by a big hug and a kiss on his bald patch.
Mr. Armstrong studied his daughter from above his horn-rimmed spectacles. âYour mother wants to see more of you Dev. She feels too much alone in the house.' Her dad's voice had softened to a pleading tone. The house was situated on South Drive, in Rosedale. It wasn't overly large, but the construction was of a quality not to be found today, dating back to the late forties. Since then the kitchen and bathrooms had been revamped. The extensive grounds had continued to develop and mature to parkland magnificence. After the formal section, the land fell away towards the valley where a tennis court had been installed. Not that Devon played much now, but there had been summers when the parties had rated as social events.
He sighed. âAt least give your mother a call.' He hadn't pursued it further. He knew he was at fault too. He should be more at the house; spend more time with his wife, not load it all onto Devon's shoulders. He sighed again, then checked his watch. âBring the McMillan file in will you? I've a meeting in half an hour.'
So the morning had rolled on. What her dad didn't know wouldn't hurt him. He was a sweet old thing and she did love him, in her way, but she realized she would have to be more circumspect. Well, she wouldn't be able to leave the office early today. Now it would be touch and go, to make it to Anello and David by closing time.
Devon returned to her desk to get caught up and had just gotten stuck into it when a young messenger interrupted her concentration. He decided to make time with her, but he'd taken on more than he'd bargained for. She had a short fuse, not suffering fools at all, being arrogant and impatient of opposition or obstruction. This day she put the brash youth down in no uncertain terms, sending him away with his ears smarting and ego in tatters.
*Â Â Â *Â Â Â *
Tenille glanced at the clock yet again. It was after five. Last week she had been here long before this. Now there was no sign.
“Has she changed her mind? Have I done something?”
she wondered, moving around, straightening up racks. Thinking back to their last meeting, what had she said before parting? Devon had looked happy. She had gotten the feeling she was liking her a lot. Was she misreading? Putting more into her manner than was there? A panic seized her and she shook her head vehemently. Still the examination continued troubling and difficult. The image of Devon's face formed behind her eyelids, filling her mind. Her hair had been pulled back with a white bandana showing up the perfect arch of her copper eyebrows, emphasizing the sculptured line of her cheekbones. The black leotard, so form fitting on her slender frame had shown off her model's figure. She remembered how the soft fabric of the skirt had clung to her thighs and revealed the roundness of her bottom. Tenille had never studied a woman's body in such detail before, but this woman was fascinating. Every little thing warranted closer scrutiny.
Goodbyes from her co-workers interrupted the reverie, jolting her back to real time. She turned her attention to putting away shoeboxes, a fist of concern squeezing her belly.
âDevon, where are you?'
she mouthed.
Suddenly, there she was, peering through the plate glass, looking anxiously for a sign. She rapped sharply, then cupped her hands around her eyes, the better to see. Tenille dropped everything and rushed over. The woman stepped inside looking cool, her composure once more intact. She made no explanation as to why she was late, only asking if Tenille were ready. Had she been mistaken then, about her being flustered? Tenille made no reference to her tardiness either, as she locked the door behind them.
âno'
now, it would be like her whole future had been shot down in flames. She released her grip on her hands and expelled her breath slowly. At last Carmel reappeared. She was smiling.
âOkay, Ten. It's possible, but there are some conditions,' she cautioned. Tenille jumped up and gave her aunt a big hug, then turned to her uncle, wreathed in smiles and gave him one too, her face flushed with pleasure.
âHold on, Tennie, let me finish.'
She sat herself back down on the hassock by the coffee table, hugging her knees.
âDoris finally agreed, but she took a bit of persuading. You can move ⦠as long as you let us check out the accommodation ⦠before you sign papers or hand over key money. If we like the neighbourhood ⦠and the people, she's willing to go on our say so.'
âOh Auntie, that's wonderful. Of course you can check it out. In fact I'd like that. I want everything to be satisfactory too,' she acknowledged, spirits soaring with elation. She had accomplished a major triumph.
As she undressed a sobering thought arose. Getting the right place to suit everybody's demands might not be so easy. No matter, she shrugged the doubt away, nothing was going to stop her now. Her determination hardened. She would pursue her dream to become a Flamenco dancer. They said she had the aptitude, the talent and the look. She would supply the hard work. She made a solemn resolution. Her life would be dedicated to dance. She would do all that it might take. She would give it a year and see how far along she had gotten. If that turned out not to be very far, well it wouldn't be for want of trying. Climbing into bed, the decision was made to begin the search the very next day. “
How exciting life is
,” was her last thought before sleep.
*Â Â Â *Â Â Â *
Tenille arose extra early, planning to buy a Toronto Star and look through the classifieds before work. She wanted to read it on the train, but it was too crowded. There was hardly space to breathe, let alone open a paper, sitting or standing. She waited 'til she arrived, then combed through the apartments for rent pages, highlighting some promising ones looking good in print, but who knew what they were really like? She realized this was the first time she had had to confront the business of finding her own accommodation.
The first apartment was near the Lake at Front and Spadina Streets. No rental had been given, but this would be a handy location. Easy access to public transport and close to all amenities. The building had an imposing lobby, equipped with elaborate security systems as well as security guard. The superintendent took her up to the eighth floor and unlocked the door into a magnificently spacious apartment, the view overlooking the water, breathtaking. It was unfurnished except for deeply piled carpeting and the drapes. When the superintendent named the rental, Tenille was ready to have the floor swallow her up, unable to get away fast enough. No wonder it had appealed, the kitchen and bathrooms were to die for - all that travertine and granite. At the store they wanted to know how she'd fared. Too embarrassed to admit of her ignorance, she had made the excuse it was too big, but felt her foolishness all the same.
Throughout the afternoon her plight pursued her. She wanted downtown. On her wages she couldn't afford a prestigious location. What she could afford would be out in the boondocks, but she was trying to get away from there. She voiced her dilemma to Beris during coffee.
âHave you considered a basement apartment? You can usually find one of those in the inner core at a more reasonable rent.'
âI hadn't, but I'll look again. Thanks, Beris.'
“A basement? Gee, Carmel wouldn't go for that.”
She had the weekend off; the search continued. What a disappointing occupation; the hurdles looked insurmountable and just when everything else was looking up. She had phoned a ton of what seemed likely places, but they were gone. Reducing her list to a handful, she started the rounds. What a depressing task. Yes, the location was close to the city centre, but the houses were old and run down; the apartments dank and musty. Some were downright dirty and overrun with cockroaches.
The following week the search continued in her lunch breaks. She wasn't about to give up yet, but she felt close to it sometimes. Some landlords she was meeting were uncouth and unkempt, eyeing her up and down, making her feel ill at ease. She became conscious of her vulnerability; alone, in a private space. Yes, they were apartments she could afford, but no, not ones she would care to live in. After these experiences it would be agents only, but this fared no better. They seemed unsavory characters too. It was a relief to get back to Barkdene Hills Avenue and its reassuring security. Nonetheless, she wouldn't let her resolve weaken. If she wanted to branch out on her own then these were the circumstances she would have to face. Her heart gave a beat of apprehension. “
Don't give in before you've even started, Ten
,” she remonstrated with herself. “
Develop a backbone. Talk is the easy part.
”
By the time Thursday came round and the next class, she was still no nearer finding her little nest. So much running about had eaten into the practise time. Her performance was weak, Belen noticed, but made no comment. Not every session could be so good.
Devon did manage a short spell with Tenille, but class wasn't a place where they could talk. She arranged to see her after work the next day, giving her an intimate smile as she said: âLike last time.' She was happy with the plan, a welcome escape from all the trekking about she'd been doing.
Coffee with the gang turned out to be quite propitious for Tenille. They enquired as to her progress and she had to admit she hadn't gotten very far. They commiserated. Wendy had been through it herself a few years age. Gloom momentarily sank their spirits, being disappointed she couldn't be more a part of their team. Suddenly Marissa snapped her fingers.
âI've got it.'
They turned to her in amazement, their scrutiny sharpened. âTrue.'
She had their undivided attention and smiled, gleefully. âThere's this friend of my mother's. They've recently fixed up their basement, converted half into a small, self-contained unit.'
âSounds good so far. What's the catch?' Ingrid interjected contentiously, looking around the table. âIn my experience, there's always something to take the gloss off,' she stated, pessimistically. âWait Ingrid,' Marissa responded impatiently. âThere's no catch.'
âLet her get on,' Daphne put in, turning back to Marissa.
âMrs. Sandrelli did have it rented to some guy, but last I heard, he wasn't working out. They were thinking of telling him to move on, or something. I'm not sure. Anyway â¦' she dismissed this in a rush â â¦there could be an apartment available for you there.' She studied Tenille above the rim of her cup, a gentle smile on her lips, fine lines fanning out from the corners of her grey eyes.
âOh Marissa, do you think so?' Tenille asked, as she clutched hopefully at the possibility. âThat would be wonderful.'
âWhere is it?' Ingrid still sounded doubtful, but she wanted it to be okay, for all their sakes.
âThey live on McPherson, at Dupont. It's a nice part of town, not far from the subway.' She turned to Tenille, that excited gleam back in her eye as she watched a smile, so full of life play about the soft mouth, it twisted her heart. The way this was working out, it would make Tenille her special friend. âYou would have the choice of both the north-south line at Dupont and the east-west at Spadina.' She didn't know the downtown stations yet, but it sounded good.
âListen, I'll look into it for you and let you know how things stand as soon as I can, okay?' she assured her eagerly.
With this resolve the little group broke up. Tenille felt more optimistic than she had all week. Her thoughts spun with the prospects opening up. The train took no time at all, then it was her stop. She didn't phone from Warden, Roger and Carmel had a theatre engagement, but waiting in the cold and draughty loading bay, buffeted by the capricious, swirling wind meant nothing to her; she had her dreams to keep her warm ⦠and tomorrow she would be spending time with Devon. Just the two of them.
The bus being almost empty, Tenille sat closer to the front. The driver was quite taken with this dark beauty and made a pleasant enquiry. Was she was returning from night school? Her outlook so positive, she happily shared her good news, the words tumbling out in an excited torrent, fighting over her tongue for space. He checked in his interior mirror. She was so vibrant and captivating, not spoiled by people turning her head, making her self-conscious.
*Â Â Â *Â Â Â *
Devon's day had not been going well. Her father had given her a severe dressing down: Why was it she could never be found when she was in? She must be more reliable meeting deadlines. âAnd another thing,' he'd added: âWhat have you been up to that you take such long lunches?'
John Armstrong doted on his daughter, but her mother had been getting onto him of late and the pressure was now translating into this unusual outburst. She never visited the house; didn't phone. He saw her fairly regularly, but Esme was feeling estranged. She'd accused him of keeping Devon to himself. Such foolishness.
He was a successful, self-made man. This success had come at the expense of his wife, a woman he'd married when they were both young, but who had not been comfortable in making the transition from struggling student's help-meet, to wife of a corporate citizen. Their daughter, on the other hand, had all the hallmarks of a
spoiled little rich girl
. Now personalities clashed and it was too much for John. He retreated more frequently into his business world where he knew the rules; could play the game with dashing flair. He was well-meaning, his heart in the right place, but no match for his astute daughter. She generally got her own way, knowing just how to make her dad feel good. That morning she had to acknowledge she had been taking liberties. âI've been getting rather involved with my dancing, Pop. Very soon now we're putting on a show and we've been working hard getting it together,' she explained. âBut everything's Al. You'll have to come see it.' This had been followed by a big hug and a kiss on his bald patch.
Mr. Armstrong studied his daughter from above his horn-rimmed spectacles. âYour mother wants to see more of you Dev. She feels too much alone in the house.' Her dad's voice had softened to a pleading tone. The house was situated on South Drive, in Rosedale. It wasn't overly large, but the construction was of a quality not to be found today, dating back to the late forties. Since then the kitchen and bathrooms had been revamped. The extensive grounds had continued to develop and mature to parkland magnificence. After the formal section, the land fell away towards the valley where a tennis court had been installed. Not that Devon played much now, but there had been summers when the parties had rated as social events.
He sighed. âAt least give your mother a call.' He hadn't pursued it further. He knew he was at fault too. He should be more at the house; spend more time with his wife, not load it all onto Devon's shoulders. He sighed again, then checked his watch. âBring the McMillan file in will you? I've a meeting in half an hour.'
So the morning had rolled on. What her dad didn't know wouldn't hurt him. He was a sweet old thing and she did love him, in her way, but she realized she would have to be more circumspect. Well, she wouldn't be able to leave the office early today. Now it would be touch and go, to make it to Anello and David by closing time.
Devon returned to her desk to get caught up and had just gotten stuck into it when a young messenger interrupted her concentration. He decided to make time with her, but he'd taken on more than he'd bargained for. She had a short fuse, not suffering fools at all, being arrogant and impatient of opposition or obstruction. This day she put the brash youth down in no uncertain terms, sending him away with his ears smarting and ego in tatters.
*Â Â Â *Â Â Â *
Tenille glanced at the clock yet again. It was after five. Last week she had been here long before this. Now there was no sign.
“Has she changed her mind? Have I done something?”
she wondered, moving around, straightening up racks. Thinking back to their last meeting, what had she said before parting? Devon had looked happy. She had gotten the feeling she was liking her a lot. Was she misreading? Putting more into her manner than was there? A panic seized her and she shook her head vehemently. Still the examination continued troubling and difficult. The image of Devon's face formed behind her eyelids, filling her mind. Her hair had been pulled back with a white bandana showing up the perfect arch of her copper eyebrows, emphasizing the sculptured line of her cheekbones. The black leotard, so form fitting on her slender frame had shown off her model's figure. She remembered how the soft fabric of the skirt had clung to her thighs and revealed the roundness of her bottom. Tenille had never studied a woman's body in such detail before, but this woman was fascinating. Every little thing warranted closer scrutiny.
Goodbyes from her co-workers interrupted the reverie, jolting her back to real time. She turned her attention to putting away shoeboxes, a fist of concern squeezing her belly.
âDevon, where are you?'
she mouthed.
Suddenly, there she was, peering through the plate glass, looking anxiously for a sign. She rapped sharply, then cupped her hands around her eyes, the better to see. Tenille dropped everything and rushed over. The woman stepped inside looking cool, her composure once more intact. She made no explanation as to why she was late, only asking if Tenille were ready. Had she been mistaken then, about her being flustered? Tenille made no reference to her tardiness either, as she locked the door behind them.
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