This is a continuation of the Salt & Vinegar series.
As with the previous chapters, this is a stand-alone story. However, you may wish to read the previous works to get up to speed with the story so far.
Enjoy.
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LENA
Detroit winked into existence as the plane cleared the cloud layer. Rivulets of condensation streamed across the window. Welcome to Motor City.
I really wasn't sure about this visit to Justine's parents. My emotions were still churning from Tom's revelations about my own family (see Chapter 5) and I didn't know if I was really in the right place to meet Justine's. But I knew why she'd invited me, so I'd accepted.
My shoot had finished late on Friday. Justine had already booked to head up on Friday afternoon, so I'd stayed in San Francisco last night and then caught an early flight this morning. She'd said she'd come and meet me at the airport, but I told her not to bother. I'd said she needed the time with her family. To be honest, I needed the time to myself.
It was a thirty-minute cab ride to Ann Arbor. It felt like five. My head was still a mess when we pulled up outside a tall fence with a line of trees. Impressive gates. It's a fucking mansion! You didn't tell me that, bitch!
The gates were unlocked. A slight squeal, but the hinges were oiled and they moved smoothly enough. I set my case down on the drive and looked at the gardens. The cab's engine faded as it drove off and then there was only the sound of the trees, the birds and the insects in the Michigan sunshine. A very faint hum of distant traffic from the main road, but you had to listen hard.
I felt as I was walking backward through time as my feet crunched on the gravel drive, the present slipping away. The old red brick house with its columned portico set stately in manicured grounds. White-framed windows which were old at the turn of the last century, let alone this one. The pile exuded the sleepy peacefulness of a monument to a past age.
Cool beneath the portico after the warmth of the sun. And probably cold as hell inside despite the summer heat, I thought. Or may that was just my nerves. I dug in my case and shrugged on some sleeves.
With some trepidation I rang the bell, and I heard chimes sound sonorously within. I wouldn't have been surprised if the door had been answered by a fucking butler.
The door opened. Not a butler, just my beautiful girl.
Justine burst out laughing.
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JUSTINE
The doorbell rang and I ran to the door. It was only a day since I'd seen Lena, but it felt like an age. Being back home did that, I guess.
I opened the door, and I couldn't believe my eyes.
"Lena! What the hell!?" I laughed.
She crossed her arms and pouted angrily, which was even funnier.
"Fucking happy to see you too, bitch."
She was wearing a sun dress - a dress! - a touch longer than knee length, a light cardigan and matching ballet flats. It was a pretty ensemble, but it looked completely incongruous on her. It certainly didn't match the thundercloud on her face. Her wild raven hair was tamed into two neat braids. With ribbons. I'd never seen her like this, ever. Tees with jeans or shorts and sneakers was Lena's thing. Going out wear was also usually jeans or leather, occasionally a slinky LBD. This really was something else.
Behind the anger I saw uncertainty and I suddenly realised what she'd done. I'd told her my folks were conservative Christians and so she'd tried to dress like she thought they might expect for a visit. She wasn't sure of her welcome. Turning up on short notice to announce that she was the lesbian lover of the daughter of the house was certainly a tricky thing. This was difficult for her, and she was trying really hard. I was instantly sorry. I jumped down the couple of steps from the porch and crashed into her, hugging her fiercely.
"I love you so much, Lena! You didn't need to do that for me."
"Didn't do it for you. Thought your Mom and Dad mightn't appreciate the ink."
"Stoopid." I kissed her and grabbed her ass. "But you look vewy, vewy cute."
"Again, fuck you."
"Yes please, but maybe later, K?"
I went back to the door and yelled down the hall to Mom that Lena was here.
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LENA
Fucking little bitch thought that bouncing down the steps with a bright smile, a hug and a kiss was going to make it better?
Fuck you, Justine.
Fuck me; I was nervous.
Whatever fucking happened to fuck-the-world Lena? When did I care about what some little bitch's mother thought?
'Since you fell in love with that little bitch', answered my inner self. 'And count yourself lucky she loves you back.'
I did, which is the only reason I was here at all.
An older version of Justine appeared in the doorway, wiping her hands on her apron. Shorter hair, sprinkled with grey but the same face. Eyes crinkling with warmth at the corners.
"Hello, you must be Lena. It's so good to finally meet you!"
She came down the steps and enveloped me in a hug. The smell of cloves and cinnamon, of fresh linen and subtle perfume. A sudden pang caught me by surprise. How long had it been since I'd had a motherly hug?
She released me and held me at arms' length.
"Let me look at you properly. Oh, you're so pretty!"
Behind her Justine poked her tongue out at me and I had to smother a laugh.
"And what a roguish grin. I bet you have a wicked sense of humour!"
Justine choked and had to recover before doing the introductions.
"Mom, this is Lena. Lena, Mary."
"Pleased to meet you Mrs McIntyre and thanks for having me."
"Oh, no. Please, it's Mary and we're so pleased to have you. We've wanted to meet you for so long! All Justine ever says when she calls is 'Lena this' and 'Lena that'. She's very lucky to have found such a good friend."
"But come inside. The boys aren't home yet. Jackson's still at training and Alex will be at the university until after lunch. It's Saturday but he had some preparation to do for a seminar on Monday and some assessment to organise for some of his lecture classes. The man is a workaholic."
"I'm just finishing some baking, but Justine will show you up to your room and then around. Come down when you're ready. Or you're very welcome to take a nice bath to help you freshen up after the flight."
She gave me another hug and a smile and then disappeared down the long hallway.
"See? Alright, yes?" said Justine.
"Yeah, alright", I said, relieved. "She's nice".
"What'd you expect from the woman who brought up such a lovely daughter?"
"Bitch."
She poked her tongue out at me again and we both laughed.
I followed her up the stairs. Timber panelling and the smell of old varnish. But the paintwork was new and the wallpaper clean and bright. Older paintings on the walls mixed with newer prints in a pleasing and tasteful arrangement which complemented the antique furniture yet kept things fresh. A vase of roses on the hall table brought the perfume of the garden into the house. It felt old, but comfortable. It felt like a house full of memories.
"Here's your room", said Justine as we reached the top of the stairs and started down the upstairs passage. "Mine's that one across. Mom and Dad's further back. Jackson's is downstairs so you don't need to worry about your virtue during the night", she teased.
"Fucking virtue, my ass! And why aren't I in your room?"
"Well, this is the guest room and you're the guest."
It was a very decent room. The room was almost the size of our whole apartment. It was dominated by a four-poster bed which looked king size at least.
"You'd better come keep me company in this."
"Maybe I will later", she winked.
"Show me your room."
I followed Jus down the passage.
"Ta-da", she said and sat on the bed.
I stood in the doorway and looked. It's strange to see the past of someone you've only known in the present. I could see bits of the girl I knew, but a whole lot that I didn't either. Things from childhood liked the stuffed rabbit on the bed. An old dollhouse under the window. More recent things from teenage years: a guitar on a stand in the corner and posters on the wall, surprisingly of the Dandy Warhols and The White Stripes. They clashed awfully with the candy stripe wallpaper.
Jus saw me looking and grinned.
"I had a massive crush on Jack White. Detroit boy. I went to their gigs a couple of times when I told Mom I was going to a friend's place to study."
"You rebel, you. The girl's not bad either", I said, inspecting the poster more closely. "Nice rack."
"Meg? Yeah, she's pretty cool."
"So, you play that thing in the corner?"
"Yeah. Haven't really played since I've been in San Diego, though. Only when I come home occasionally."
She picked it up and sat back on the bed, fiddling with the pegs and plucking strings until she had it tuned. Then a few chords and runs which eventually settled into a recognisable song. She was good. But what shocked me more was her voice. I'd never heard Jus sing. Maybe it was because it was her, or maybe not, but there was a smoky timbre to it which sent a shiver down my spine all the way to my groin. I closed my eyes and listened as she sung the chorus.
"Le-na, you've got me on my knees
Lena, I'm begging, darling please
Lena, darling won't you ease my worried mind."
I knew the song. Cute that she'd changed the name. What was scary was how well it fit. Pretty sure Jus didn't know just how well, but it hurt a bit just the same. Or did she know?
I opened my eyes and Jus was looking at me from under her lashes as she sang. Her eyes were big and clear and the only thing in them was love. No, Jus was singing this one to me for the chorus and it came from her heart. Fool girl loved me and worried about me a lot. It wouldn't have occurred to her that the verses might mean something. My heart lifted and I smiled back.
She launched into the tricky instrumental and kept her focus on her left hand as it picked the notes off the frets. She had her tongue poked into the corner of her mouth as she concentrated. A few strands of her red hair fell around to frame her face. There was occasionally a wrong note or missed beat accompanied by a muttered 'fuck' or 'shit', which I found really cute.
I watched her long fingers, amazed at how confidently her left hand flowed across the fretboard. And then my heart stopped. She wasn't wearing her ring.
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JUSTINE
I hadn't thought too much about what I would play. Eric Clapton just sort of jumped into my head and the words fit. Lena was my love and there were times when I really did worry about her. I wanted to tell her - although I'm sure she knew - that I'd fallen hard for her and would always be there for her.
I watched her when I could as I played. I saw the smile hovering around her lips as she leaned against the door jamb. That little smile and the light in her eyes was gold. Then, as I finished, I saw something change. Her face froze briefly in a stone mask before the smile returned, but it was forced. And her eyes were dead.
"You're good, babe."
"Nah. Used to be better but I'm out of practice. This was my teenage rebellion. Dad's old guitar. Taught myself to play so I could do songs for the church youth group. Also dreamed of playing beside Jack White."
I looked at her again. Something was off.
"You OK? It wasn't that bad, was it?"
She stared back at me for a long moment, searching my face. Then she spoke very quietly.
"Are you ashamed of me, Jus?"
What!?
"No! Why? Why would you ask that?"
