For Better Or Worse Page 4

  “Gail,” Kathleen stated coolly, cutting me off as she returned from the pantry. “You’re up early.”

  “I couldn’t sleep so I came down for some coffee.”

  “Coffee doesn’t help you sleep.”

  That was such a mother comment. “Well, no, Kathleen, I’d given up on sleeping.”

  Kathleen tilted her head at me and asked, “You know Carmen?”

  “I love opera.”

  “I never would have guessed.”

  I shook my head. “I’m thinking there’s a lot about me you would never guess.”

  “I don’t know many bartenders who enjoy the opera.” She chuckled slightly and poured herself a cup of coffee, too.

  “And how many bartenders _do _ you know, Kathleen?”

  She looked at me. “Oh, all right, Gail, very few.”

  I looked at her.

  “Fine. None. Well, you, that’s one,” she said with an exasperated tone. Her lips went flat. “But you know what I mean.”

  “Yes, Kathleen, I know what you mean.” Bartenders are uneducated idiots. I heard her loud and clear. The air went still and quiet and the tension could have fried the eggs she’d left sitting on the counter. Finally I joined in with the radio, singing softly just to break the silence. “L’amour est enfant de bohéme, il n’a jamias connu de loi.”

  “That’s French,” Kathleen informed me.

  “Love is a gypsy child, he has never heard of law.” I translated, just to make a point, before I realized with no small irony how relevant that phrase was. It wasn’t lost on Kathleen, either.

  “Indeed,” she said, looking at me from the other side of the counter with an unreadable expression. I sipped my coffee and tried to pretend that I had made that point on purpose. “Do you love Julie, Gail?” Kathleen asked suddenly, as if she’d been looking for that opening since we’d arrived and had finally found it.

  On its face, it was a fair enough question for a mother to ask of her daughter’s lover, so I decided to treat it as if it had been asked fairly. I set my mug down on the counter and looked at

  Kathleen. “Yes,” I said simply. Kathleen’s eyes seemed to be searching mine for something and I started to wonder in the moment of silence that followed if I’d missed something about her. “Julie is the reason I get out of bed in the morning, Kathleen,” I went on, in case she had any lingering doubts. “She’s my best friend, my crutch, my reality check. She’s my sunshine.”

  Kathleen studied me a moment longer and I noticed for the first time that her eyes were hazel like Julie’s, and the same shape. “I believe you,” she said softly, and turned away, reaching into a low cabinet to pull out a frying pan. “Omelet?”

  “I’m lesbian not a liar, Kathleen.”

  She turned on me and I saw a flash in her eyes that was reminiscent of Julie’s temper. “I’d have asked a man the same question,” she snapped and turned back to the stove, setting the frying pan on it.

  I dropped my head with a sigh and nodded, staring at the counter. Damn. I looked up again and blinked at Kathleen’s back before clearing my throat. “Sorry. Of course you would have. It was a fair question.”

  “I think it was.”

  “It was. Really. I’m just feeling defensive.”

  To her credit, Kathleen seemed to get it. “Me too.” She smiled at me over her shoulder. I think it was the first genuine smile I’d seen since we’d arrived. I smiled back and the tension was diffused by our embarrassed laughter.

  “I’d love an omelet,” I said finally. “You got mushrooms?”

  “In the refrigerator in the little drawer on the left,” Kathleen said, picking up eggs and cracking them into a glass measuring cup. I wasn’t sure what exactly just happened but suddenly I felt lighter and more at ease than I had in days. Kathleen and I didn’t say much more after that, but we whipped up breakfast quite amiably, and by the time Gareth, Julie and her brothers came down to join us we had eggs, muffins, fresh coffee and a plate of fruit on the table.

  Julie was wearing sweats and a soft cotton T-shirt and looked sleep-softened and so beautiful that I kissed her before she sat down at the table without thinking about it. She stiffened a little and then pulled away, and I realized with some discomfort that she wasn’t ready to be kissed in front of her parents.

  “Relax, baby,” I whispered.

  “You’ve been down here with my mother all morning?” she whispered back.

  “Yes, it’s fine, we made breakfast,” I assured her, but Julie looked doubtful. “Relax.”

  “All right you two, no whispering at the breakfast table,” Kathleen chimed in cheerfully. Julie glanced over at her mother and then back at me, her expression full of questions. I just smiled and winked at her.

  “I’ll get you some coffee,” I said, giving Julie’s arm a squeeze and then went to fetch the pot. I wish I hadn’t had my back turned for what happened next.

  I heard Kathleen clear her throat. “Lesbianlesbianlesbian,” she said clearly, if just a little bit rushed. I whirled around in time to see everyone at the table momentarily frozen, their expressions caught between shock and amusement. I watched as Kathleen set half a grapefruit down in front of Julie.

  “So we’re all speaking finally?” Gareth asked from the head of the table.

  Kathleen gave her husband a swat on his balding head and the table erupted in laughter. “Gareth McHugh, don’t borrow trouble,” Kathleen chided in a teasing tone. “Eat your breakfast.” She set a plate of eggs down in front of him.

  7

  It was cold the day we were to fly home. Actually, it was cold every day we were in Vail, but the wind that morning was particularly bitter despite the brilliant sunshine. Julie and I had packed the night before, so while she busied herself with farewells to her various family members, I played anti-social in favor of sipping some coffee and looking out the enormous windows one more time at the magnificent view.

  Andrew was sitting with me, playing some handheld video game; an X-2 or a Gamebox or something. Ever since we’d bonded over our love of ‘boobies’ on Christmas Day, he’d been spending most of his time wherever I was in the house. I guess he felt more comfortable with us than with his grandparents. Every so often he would talk back to the game, but he hadn’t said a word to me in close to an hour, so when he finally spoke up he startled me.

  “So, Aunt Gail…”

  I blinked. “Aunt?” God, that made me sound so fucking old. “Oh God, Andrew, just ‘Gail’.

  Please.”

  “Mother said—”

  I was sure he was going to leap into a long admonishment from his mother about respect for one’s elders that was going to make me feel ancient instead of just old so I interrupted him. “Just Gail. Okay?”

  Andrew’s brow furrowed thoughtfully, as if he was a having a hard time fitting my request in with his upbringing, and then he finally spoke again. “Gail,” he repeated. “Gail, are you seriously in love with Aunt Julie?”

  “Yeah,” I answered easily. “I am seriously in love with Aunt Julie.”

  “Aunt Julie is seriously in love with Aunt Gail, too.”

  Julie’s voice startled the hell out of me and I jumped off the couch, nearly sending my coffee cup flying. My heart was pounding. “Christ, Julie, you need to make more noise when you’re eavesdropping.”

  “She said just ‘Gail’,” Andrew chimed in, apparently not nearly as startled by Julie’s sudden entrance as I had been.

  “Well, ‘just Gail’, come out and say goodbye to my parents.”

  The whole goodbye scene was not something I’d been looking forward to. Shaking hands, being polite, smiling, thank you’s, none of it was my thing. I decided to play it cool. “I’m kind of busy right now.”

  “What?”

  “You know, my buddy Andrew and I were just having a little guy talk.”

  Julie arched one fine eyebrow. “Gail.”

  “Oooh. Fight!” Andrew climbe
d up to sit on the back of his chair and left his electronic widget on the table. It beeped and chattered annoyingly.

  I bristled. “We’re not fighting.”

  Julie put her hands on her hips and flashed mock-threatening eyes at me. “Gail Anne Pietrowski, if you—”

  “Pietrowski?” Andrew parroted.

  “Shh!” I waved a hand at Andrew. “For Christ’s sake Julie, let’s not let your mother find out I’m a Polack, too, she might burst something.”

  Julie stepped into the room so it was harder to ignore her. Then she came around in front of me and sat beside me on the couch and there was no escaping those green eyes. “If you’re going to make them wait, let’s at least have a good excuse. How about you start with the part where you are seriously in love with ‘Aunt Julie’?”

  I looked at her and smiled. I thought about throwing back something sarcastic, but there was no point in trying to deny her anything. “I am seriously in love with Aunt Julie.” I repeated, holding her gaze. Julie was so beautiful with the sunlight in her hair. I licked my lips as my mouth went dry.

  “You are?”

  “Yeah. I mean, yes,” I answered with the slight correction. Julie was always complaining that I sounded like one of her teenagers. “Yes, I am.”

  “Are you guys gonna kiss, because I’m so outta here if you are.” Andrew demanded from his perch across the room.

  Julie nodded slowly, not taking her eyes off me. “I think we are.”

  “Ew!” Andrew shouted and hopped off of his chair. “Gross.”

  “Bye, kid. Tell your grandparents we’ll be a minute.” I said, pulling Julie into my arms.

  Andrew had to have the last word. “Lesbiablesbianlesbian!” he taunted as he ran from the room.

  For Better or Worse

  Copyright © 2006 by Jodi Payne

  All rights reserved. No part of this eBook may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews. For information address Torquere Press, PO Box 2545, Round Rock, TX 78680

  Printed in the United States of America.

  Torquere Press: Single Shot electronic edition / December 2006

  Torquere Press eBooks are published by Torquere Press, PO Box 2545, Round Rock, TX 78680