Photographs Ch 12

Christie settled into no routine at all. She still swam at 5:30 every morning. Because it was the only time she had any peace, she added moonlight swims, but she never danced. She kept up with her practice simply out of habit, going through the motions. She didn't always go into the office if she had no appointments. The plants received water and food when she passed through a room, not on any schedule. Evenings and weekends went by in naps or fits of housekeeping or simply sitting and listening to music and doing nothing much at all. Whole days passed by where she didn't eat a single meal, and the food in the refrigerator spoiled without Danny there to eat it all. Later, looking back at that summer, she could remember nothing but waiting. The time passed in an empty blur.

She had no idea where her son was. It tormented her, day and night, the only thing she really felt for those three months. In September, desperate for any news, she called Stanford University using a pretext to gain information, and learned he was attending classes. Her relief was so great, she wept.

#####

"You're eating again," Ralph pointed out at lunch one day in September.

Christie kept chewing and nodded.

"I finally know where Danny is," she said. She glanced around. After two years she still sometimes caught herself searching for Steve at her lunches with Ralph.

"Did he call you?"

She shook her head, put down her fork. "No."

Ralph reached out his hand across the table. He'd been doing that lately, ever since the day she confided that Danny had gone and not kept in contact with her. She took his hand and gave it a squeeze before returning to her lunch. That contact helped a little. The truth was, she thought nothing could relieve the constant ache of Danny's absence. She never wanted to lose him, or be without him in the first place. Her goal had been to protect his future, give him a better chance in life. Now she didn't know what to do with her own. She didn't know when she would start making plans that didn't include Danny.

Another problem that Christie experienced was the lack of people to talk to. Her shattering grief wasn't normal for a mother and son fight, and the family already wanted answers. She couldn't confide in her friends about a breakup with a lover; they would want to know who, particularly since she hadn't acted like she'd had one in the first place. Forced to keep everything inside, Christie ended up brooding or having short little bursts of activity to take her mind off her pain.

"Keep eating," Ralph said. "You're getting too thin. So, where's Danny?"

"At Stanford, attending classes. That's all I know."

"I could take a trip up there, if you like. Find out where he's living and how he's doing."

"No, Ralph, but thank you. I don't want to spy on him the way Steve spied on us."

Ralph nodded. "Of course, but if you change your mind, or you really need to get a hold of him, let me know."

She smiled, grateful. "I will. Thank you. Do you think you can find out how he paid his tuition for me? If he took out loans, which I assume he must have, I want to pay them."

"I'll try."

He watched her eat fitfully after that, but she still managed to finish most of her meal and drink an entire glass of orange juice.

"Christie," he said thoughtfully. "What you might need is a distraction."

She waited, suspecting what was coming. "What kind?"

"Getting out and doing things. When was the last time you left the house aside from work?"

May 14, she thought, the day Danny left. "I don't know," she lied.

"There's a little theater around the corner from where I live. They're having an Audrey Hepburn festival this weekend. 'Roman Holiday' and 'Breakfast at Tiffany's' and old movies like that. Want to come with me?"

She couldn't go back with Danny; she could only go forward without him. She still believed this firmly, although this conviction had worn thin around the edges. Christie recognized how thoroughly stuck she had become, and she needed to find ways to live without him and still survive. Thriving was beginning to look out of the question, but she could try.

Ralph watched her. His cheeks colored slightly when she didn't answer right away. He must sense her hesitancy.

"Yes," she replied. "That sounds lovely."

#####

Ralph fell asleep during the middle of their date. Christie nudged him when 'Breakfast at Tiffany's' ended. "Ralph." Nudge. "Ralph!"

"Wha'?" He jerked awake.

"You fell asleep during the movie."

Ralph rubbed his hand over his face, blushed, and glanced at her. "Sorry."

"Do you even like Audrey Hepburn movies?"

"Ummm... I've never actually seen one." He smiled. "But I heard that chicks like them."

She rolled her eyes. "I do, but I like action movies a lot, too. Next time, let's discuss it." She stood and held out her hand to help him up.

"There'll be a next time after I fell asleep?" he asked. He took her hand but brought it to his lips and kissed it.

"Oh..." she sighed. "There will be now."

They exited the theater and stood outside on the sidewalk. "Where to now?" Christie asked. "Since we aren't seeing the second movie."

"My place?" he asked hopefully. He took her hand and drew her towards him. "I can think of some fun things to do. I have a good bottle of chardonnay."

"Cabernet?"

He frowned. "I thought all chicks liked the white stuff."

"The very fact that you use the word 'chicks' to my face tells me you don't know much about chicks."

He frowned. "You think I'm a jerk."

"I think you're being adorable."

"Damn, and here I was going for manly. My place?" he said.

#####

Ralph stood just inside the door to his tidy little apartment and looked at her, his expression intense. He slowly raised one hand to touch her face lightly, a brush of fingertips.

"Ralph?"

"You're here," he whispered.

"Yes?"

"You're finally here."

"Oh, Ralph," she said softly.

The hand slid to her nape and pulled her toward him. His lips claimed hers without hesitation, demanding, years of pent up passion exploding into a kiss that momentarily made her forget who she was.

"Wine?" she said, breaking the kiss.

He pressed his lips together, looking down. "Sorry."

She followed him into the corner set aside for the kitchen, but had to back out again.

"It only fits one," Ralph said. He opened his refrigerator. "I have the white. No Cabernet."

"Water would be better, anyway."

He motioned toward the sofa. "Sit, please."

A minute later Ralph was sitting beside her, a comfortable distance between them. She sipped her water and waited.

"You're never going to sleep with me, are you?"

"I wouldn't say never, but tonight is unlikely."

"Do you even know what you want?"

She had to think about that for a minute. "Not really. For so long I didn't dare dream of anything that my thinking in those terms is kind of rusty."

"I know what you want."

She smiled a little. "You do? What do you think I want?"

"I think you want your son back. I think you want to spend the rest of your life with him."

"That's crazy. I mean..." she lifted her glass to distract him. It shook the tiniest bit. "I would like us to be on good terms again, but I want him to have his own life."

"Maybe that's why you broke up?"

"Broke up?" She turned her body slightly, edging away from him. "We had a fight. Parents and children do that."

"But the parents don't grieve for four months as if somebody died."

"I didn't know where he was, or even if he was alive, until ten days ago!"

"Or maybe your reaction was a little extreme because you've been sleeping with him for a long time."

She squared her shoulders and went on the offensive. "What? How can you say something like that?"

He leaned back on the sofa and laid one arm across the back. "I watch people, Christie. It's my job. And I still work the occasional divorce case. One thing I can see is the nature of people's relationships. Who's been married happily for a long time, who's cheating, and which couples are sleeping together. You and Danny, you don't have the power dynamic of mother and son. You act as equals. You consult each other before making important decisions. You do freaking everything together. You've been very careful, I can tell, but you act like an old married couple who've been happy for a long time. Until last spring. Something changed then. And then he was gone."

"So I grieve over his absence and you decide I must have been sleeping with him?"

"I've suspected ever since Steve died."

She looked away, focusing on the blank TV screen. "You suspect I've been sleeping with my son, yet you still ask me out tonight?" she said in disbelief, turning back toward him. "You must be very open-minded."

He smiled. "Not as open-minded as you, I think."

"I have never slept with my son," she said firmly, but her cheeks gave her away with a tell-tale blush.

"Liar." He sat up straight. "This is what I want to know: if I start something with you, will you up and abandon me if he comes back to you? Is it really over?"

"You waited until after kissing me before asking that?"

"I wasn't certain until now."

"I can't do this." Christie got up. What little of her heart left unbroken, shattered. She had given up her lover. Now she had to give up her friend, because she knew that if Danny walked in her door today she would go down on her knees and beg him to forgive her.

"I'm not giving up, Christie. I want you enough to forgive something like this."

Suddenly she was furious. "I should let myself go. Get fat. Stop doing my hair and wearing makeup. Because I am

sick and tired

of the lengths men will go to possess me."

He got up and walked over to where she stood. He gently held her shoulders.

"You really have no idea, don't you?"

"What?" she said hotly.

"There are lots of pretty women in LA. You are special because of who you are inside. Smart and strong and caring. You can be ruthless but you'll sacrifice everything for those you love. Your eyes show so much intelligence and still are so warm. Men might go to crazy lengths to be with someone like you, but I don't want to possess you. I want us to belong to each other."

She stared at his face, the earnest expression there, and let him pull her closer. "Give me some time, Ralph. Please. I can't belong to you right now, because I still belong to... someone else."

#####

Halloween had just passed, one of his mother's favorite times. Every year she dressed up, even if only to pass out candy, and the house would be elaborately decorated. Laughing skulls with glowing eyes in dark corners, and bats that dangled in your hair when you walked in the door. They would have planned an outing to someplace no one knew them, using their costumes to further shield them from discovery. His mother would have worn something sexy -- maybe the Vampirella costume he liked so much that was cut to her navel.

For the three days prior to the holiday, Danny had to turn off his cell phone to keep himself from calling her, but he couldn't stop himself from checking it every half hour "just in case he had an important message." He couldn't even deceive himself that he wasn't hoping she'd call. It was also mid-term exam time, so by the time that Friday came around, Danny was drained and edgy. He lay sprawled on their crappy old sofa, drinking a beer and wondering if it was time to graduate to whiskey, when Pedro came out to the living room, .

"You need to get laid, Brother Daniel," Pedro said, looking down at him over the back of the sofa.

"Why do you keep calling me that?"

"Because you live like a monk. Let's go to the bars and find some girls."

"Do you ever fucking stop?"

"What? Picking up girls or giving you a hard time?"

"Either. You're like a fucking animal. Do you ever even sleep with the same girl twice?"

Pedro waved his hands in the air. "Oh no. That leads to bad things, like wedding rings."

Danny raised his bottle to his lips and then said, "You'll marry. Some sweet girl that your aunt introduces you to. She'll be pretty for fifteen minutes and then grow fat and then--" Pedro slapped the back of his head. "OW!"

"Don't talk like that. I might have to go lay down."

"You're only upset because you know it's true."

"It is true except the fat part. I'm more worried about the number of kids she'll want to pop out. So I sleep with them once. Okay?"

"It only takes once. Just ask my mother," he muttered.

"

Qué

?"

"Nothing." Perhaps it was the week he'd had, or the beer he'd already drunk, but despite knowing it was a bad idea to be around other people that night, he found himself saying, "Look, maybe I'll go with you tonight. Can you wait for me to shower?" Pedro was a good guy, who seemed to care about Danny's happiness. If it made him feel like he was taking good care of Danny to try to get him out in circulation, he supposed he might as will allow it. He was rewarded with Pedro's happy grin.

"Sure thing,

hombre

. Use some of that stinky stuff you shower with. The girls seem to love it. Just don't put on any of that 'eau de wounded lover' you go around with. I'll never get any girls."

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

"You should see yourself. You get to the bar and you're all broody and show no interest in the women, so they all flock to you. It would only be worse if you were gay." He paused. "Hey, man, you're not gay, are you? That bitch who dumped you wasn't really a guy?"

"Fuck you." Danny turned the now empty beer bottle around so he was holding it by the neck. "Mr. Budweiser," he said to the bottle, "would you like to be introduced to Mr. Pedro's face?"

Pedro laughed and backed off. "Hurry. I want to get an early start tonight."

#####

For some reason that Danny would have challenged even God to explain, Pedro liked country bars. In Sunnyvale, California, a country bar meant a mix of office workers and kids from San Jose State trying to look the part in unscuffed boots and artfully torn jeans. The decor was usually what you'd expect -- wood dance floor, scattering of tables with stackable chairs, booths around the perimeter, and a huge bar -- and the the music could have put them anywhere in the USA. Danny hated it, but for some reason he often let Pedro drag him to the bars on a Friday or Saturday night if they both weren't working. Why drink whiskey in peace and quiet for $.75 a glass when you could spend $5 amid chaos and country twang?

Danny never wanted to be an asshole, so he tried to stay mostly sober until either Pedro picked up a girl and wanted to go someplace quieter, or Pedro gave up and wanted to go home. The latter was much more difficult, seeing as Pedro was unlikely to give up until he either passed out or the bars closed.

So Danny was still sober enough to see trouble coming when Pedro walked up with a short, curvy blond on his arm, with another young woman trailing behind them. He had been saving their seats at the booth for this eventuality, even while hoping against it. Pedro had already rustled up a spare for Danny. Lucky him. The "spare" was average height and average looking, trim, with long light brown hair. In the dim light, he couldn't tell what color her eyes were and he didn't really care to find out. She was the type of young woman who looked good if she made an effort, but would never turn many heads. Danny suppressed a sigh and made room for her to sit beside him.

Pedro made introductions. "Carla," he said, pointing to the blond. Her hair was poofy and her western shirt was a glaring turquoise satin that he had to admit did good things for her skin. The spare was Jennifer.

"Danny MacAwley," Danny said.

"Irish or Scottish," Carla asked. She looked like a dumb blond, but Danny suddenly sensed a spark hidden under that bubble of hair.

"I'm Irish," he said.

"Real Irish?" Jennifer asked. "I didn't think there were many black people in Ireland."

Danny glared across the table at Pedro, who smirked. That was the thing about country bars. It was likely that the only people of color aside from Pedro and him were the staff in the kitchen. Carla looked embarrassed and he had the sudden realization that Jennifer simply didn't want to be left alone, so she'd followed her friend. Danny relaxed. There would be no expectations to live up to if the girl wasn't interested in picking him up.

"My grandparents are from Ireland," he explained. "My father was Jamaican. I was born here."

"Well," Carla said, "Irish and Jamaican is a happy combination, I think."

Pedro grunted. He leaned over the table and whispered, "Wounded."

"Shut up," Danny whispered back. He was liking Carla more every minute. "That's what my mom always says," he said to her.

The girls, it turned out, were seniors at San Jose State, Carla studying psychology, and Jennifer in electrical engineering. After a few minute's conversation, where Carla and Danny did most of the talking, it seemed that Jennifer wasn't as stupid as she first appeared, but simply completely uninterested in impressing him. He relaxed further. He also decided that it wasn't Jennifer's fault that her friend dragged her over here.

"What do electrical engineers do when they get out of college?" he asked.

"Submit job applications and say novenas," Jennifer said.

Pedro snorted. "Sort of like what this med student here is gonna do." The '

if he doesn't stop drinking

' was implied.

"The electronics industry isn't what it used to be," Danny said, trying to sound interested. "All the jobs have gone overseas."

"Yes, but I'm more interested in alternative power."

"Are there jobs there?"

"There aren't jobs anywhere."

They continued to talk more and more to just each other, each backing into their corner of the booth, while Carla and Pedro talked less and less and moved closer together. It surprised no one when Pedro suggested they go back to their apartment. Jennifer squirmed, gave Carla some sort of obvious but undecipherable non-verbal cue by running her hands through her hair, and then said, "We should take separate cars."

"I have to be at the hospital at eight tomorrow," Danny reminded Pedro. "I was hoping to duck out early." He had no intention of sleeping with Jennifer, and wanted to make that clear. Even if Christie didn't eclipse every woman he ever met, he simply wasn't interested in her.

"Relax, Daniel," Pedro said, leaving out the 'Brother' but implying it. "You'll get your beauty sleep."

Irritated, Danny said little else before they left. To make matters worse, Carla and Pedro went in Carla's car, while Jennifer rode with Danny.

"Nice car," Jennifer said, when he opened the door of his beamer for her.

"Don't get excited. It's old. I just take good care of it." To make matters worse, the car wouldn't start immediately, leaving him now both irritated and embarrassed.

They both seemed uninterested in making small talk once they left the bar. Back at the apartment, Danny went straight for the refrigerator for another beer, offering Jennifer one, which she declined. In the living room, he said a silent thanks to Pedro and his neat-freak habits. His bedroom was another matter. Good thing she would never see it. There were two decrepit recliners and the sofa to choose from. Each chose a chair rather than share the proximity of the sofa.

Carla and Pedro took their time, and suddenly the two of them had nothing to say to each other. Jennifer stood and walked over to his chair, holding out her hand. "We might as well," she said.

"What?"

"We might as well go to your bedroom," she said, still holding out her hand.

"Why?" Danny asked stupidly.

"To have sex, silly. Carla and Pedro are going to be here any minute, and having been through this before, I know it's going to get very loud in about a half hour. We might as well be making our own sex noises rather than sitting out here awkwardly trying to pretend we're not hearing theirs."