The Return Continued
This is part 2 of "The Return."
It was a sleepless night back in the Bat Cave, Natalie’s nickname for my house outside of town. Which made no sense because it wasn’t cave-like at all. It was perched on a hill overlooking the river. Nat said that I spent too much time alone there with my cat. She was probably right. But here I was, sitting on my porch, looking at the moon and, as I had done practically every night for last nine years, five months and six days, thinking about Blair Warner.
It was like yesterday. She came flouncing into Edna’s Edibles, late for her morning shift. “Nice of you to show up, Blondie,” I muttered, as I pulled the croissants out of the oven. “We open in ten minutes.”
“Is everyone here?” she asked. “I have some news. Could you get them?”
“Sure, we’d be happy to drop everything in the middle of mid terms and the busiest time of the day at the shop to hear about you latest scarf purchase.”
She gave me one of her trademark glares, and, as always, I shrugged and obeyed, going into the house and yelling up the stairs for the others to come down.
Nat and Tootie, still adjusting their Eastland ties, trailed in, followed by Mrs. G.
“Everyone,” Blair announced.” I have something to tell you.” She seemed nervous; that was weird. She usually loved being the center of attention.
“What?” Tootie asked eagerly.
“Cliff has asked me to marry him and I’ve accepted. We’re moving to Texas in two weeks.”
What do they say? The silence was deafening. But not for long. Mrs. Garrett’s shriek nearly made me drop the croissant tray. And Natalie and Tootie started bouncing and chattering like demented chipmunks.
I just stared, wondering why my stomach had turned to stone.
Of course I tried to talk her out of it. Later that morning, I found her alone in our room and shut the door. “Are you nuts? I mean, of course you’re nuts, but what are you thinking?”
“I’m thinking that the man that I love has asked me to be his wife and I’ve agreed,” she replied in her best Smuggy Mc Smug voice.
“But leaving school, moving to Texas, two weeks? C’mon, you’re 19 years old.” A light dawned. “He knocked you up, didn’t he? Bastard. Listen, that doesn’t mean you have to marry him. Its 1984, Blair, you have a choice. I mean you don’t have to have the baby if you’re not ready. There’s a clinic in Yonkers. I’d go with you.” I was starting to babble.
She stared at me in abject horror. “Are you suggesting? Yonkers!? I would never!”
I wasn’t sure whether the idea of an abortion or Yonkers disgusted her more.
“Honestly, Jo, I don’t know what kind of girl you think I am. I am not-- how did you so colorfully put it-- knocked up. Cliff and I are waiting until the wedding night to consummate our love.”
“Well then no wonder he’s rushing you!” I yelled. “Jesus, Blair, just sleep with him. You don’t have to ruin your life so that he can get some nookie.”
She glowered at me. “I am not ruining my life. I’m starting it. This is what I’m supposed to do.”
“Supposed to do? Says who?”
“Says me.”
My reply was lost as the door burst open and Boots and her posse of Gamma airheads came rolling in. “Warnsie, is it true? You little minx. Comment passionnant. Is there a ring? Fourteen caret, one presumes.”
And, as the Gammas gathered around her, squealing and hugging, she raised her head and gave me the strangest look-this odd mixture of challenge, regret and something like a plea. I couldn’t put my finger on it until later. It was a look of goodbye.
And that was basically it. She took a train to New York the next day, giving all of us awkward hugs, as she left for the station. The wedding was a week later; private, just the parents. And because Cliff’s father was sick and couldn’t travel, it was in Iowa for god’s sake. So no twenty five bridesmaids in blue taffeta, no forty doves of peace, no Etta James singing ‘At Last.’ None of the stuff she had droned on about over the years until we were all ready to scream.
She promised to come back later and have a big party, but never did. And then she just dropped out of our lives. Even when, two years later, I did what all the books said I should do, and wrote her a letter telling her I was gay, she never called. I got a note back on fancy stationary. It was polite, measured, politically correct-- nothing at all like the Blair Warner I knew. I threw it away.
Still, maybe seeing her now, after so much time, was a good thing. Maybe I could get rid of the nostalgia, the fantasy, that last look that haunted my dreams, and deal with the fact that there was nothing there, that Blair wasn’t Blair anymore. And then maybe I could move on and finally get that steady girlfriend that Natalie and the others kept pushing for me.
But police work, even in a backwater like Peekskill, sometimes intrudes. So I missed Blair’s arrival on Friday because of a domestic dispute at the country club and a four car pile up on Route Nine. By the time I got back, it was after five.
“Shit, shit, shit,” I yelled to Sergeant Ziaukes as I stormed into the station house. “I’m fucking late. Mrs. G is having a reception at Eastland for Our Precious Blair. God forbid I offend Princess Tightass by not showing up on time for the bowing and scraping. She’ll be bitching about it all weekend. What the hell is the matter with you?” I snapped to my subordinate, finally noticing his frantic gestures.
“Hello Jo.”
I whirled around and there she was-- thinner, tanner, more stunning than ever. “Blair! I…I…, “
“Aren’t you going to give Princess Tightass a hug?” she laughed, opening her arms.
So I did. It felt great. “I’m sorry. I didn’t see you. I mean…”
“Don’t worry about it. Profanity and insults. Now I know I’m back.” She drew away and smiled at me, hanging her arms loosely on my shoulders. “It’s so good to see you. You look, well, just beautiful.”
“Beautiful? Um Blair, did Mrs. G slip you some sherry at lunch?”
“Of course she did, but that’s not why I said it; it’s true. Look at you in that uniform. Not bad, Chief. I was expecting more of a Village People vibe, but this… well, not bad.”
“Uh, thanks. One of Tootie’s Broadway friends designed it.”
“Well it’s very impressive. Butch, but elegant.”
Butch? Startled, I stuttered, “Oh, OK, um, so you saw everyone?”
“Yes. How darling is that Tisha? And Mayor Natalie gave me the grand tour. The town just looks great. Much nicer than when we… when I...was here. And the campus. It’s wonderful. Mrs. Garrett has done a fantastic job, hasn’t she? Speaking of which, we’d better get going. I rented a sports car. I’ll give you a ride."
“I have my bike.”
“Really? Still? I would have thought… Well, you can’t show up at a reception for a distinguished alumna like me like some Hell’s Angel. It isn’t dignified. After all, you are the chief law enforcement officer, not some hooligan. A little decorum, if you please.”
“Now hold on, I ride my bike plenty around town and who are you…” I stopped at her giggling. “Are you messing with me?”
“You’re still so easy, Jo. Like fish in a barrel. C’mon, please ride with me. I don’t want to make an entrance unescorted.”
If she put it that way, what could I do but agree? She let me drive her rented Jag convertible and we cruised through town with the top down, her waving and smiling at the passers by like she was still the goddamned Harvest Queen. Funnily enough, I didn’t mind. We got to Eastland and walked in the reception hall together like it was Morning Assembly, circa 1982.
“There they are!” Mrs. Garrett cried, running up, putting her arms around us both and rocking as she chanted. “Blair and Jo, Jo and Blair, just like old times.” I would have gotten off a snappy retort, but I swear I saw a gleam of a tear in her eye, so I bit my lip.
“Yes, Mrs. Garrett,” Blair said. “We’ve been together for over twenty minutes and Jo hasn’t even tried to strangle me yet. A new record, I think. Oh, is that Mr. Parker? I must say hello. He hasn’t aged a bit. Excuse me for a minute.” She floated off to greet the ex-headmaster, now the Chairman of the Eastland Development Fund. Watching the human ATM approach, Mr. P looked like he was getting a major hard-on.
“Doesn’t she look fabulous?” Mrs. Garrett declared.
“I guess. I suppose all that Texas housewifery agrees with her. By the way, where is Cliff? Did he come?”
“No, she made the trip by herself. She didn’t elaborate.”
“Hmm, trouble in paradise?” Natalie, who had just walked up, interjected.
“Natalie! That’s entirely inappropriate. It‘s none of our business and such speculation is rude and unladylike,” Mrs. G. scolded.
Natalie Greene, the town’s most powerful elected official, a successful wife and mother of two, dropped her head and blushed. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Garrett,” she muttered, shuffling her feet.
“Ooh Nat, you’re in trouble now,” I laughed. Still, her question made me wonder. What was the deal? Why was Blair here, alone?
The rest of the evening provided no answers. In some ways nothing had changed. Within five minutes, Blair had the Trustees slavering over her like Bates boys at the sophomore dance and, as usual, Nat and Tootie were hanging on her every word. And I even fell into old patterns, teasing and rolling my eyes at her comments, while still trailing after her like a goddamn puppy. But there was one big difference.
“Did you notice?” I asked Tootie at one point. “She doesn’t seem to want to talk about herself. She keeps changing the subject back to us and our lives. How weird is that?”
“I know. It is strange. I wonder if she’s sick.”
“Why would you say that?” I asked sharply, really bothered by the idea. “She looks great.”
“Because I’m an insightful observer of the human condition, Jo. Didn’t you read my reviews? Blair’s clearly returned for a reason. It’s almost like she wants to get some closure, make amends. A typical response to a life-threatening illness.”
“This isn’t some Lifetime movie, Tootie. She’s probably just off her game a little because of the time change. Tomorrow the Warner ego will be back in full force and it will be nothing but what an important surgeon Cliffie is, how much the Dallas debs adore her, and how hard it is to get good help.”
“Maybe,” Tootie shrugged. “But I like this new Blair.”
And that was the problem. So did I. A lot.
*******************************************
“Icily polite?” Tootie grinned as she handed me two glasses of lemonade.
“What?”
“I’m just saying. You’re being pretty attentive to her needs. Picking her up at the Inn this morning, taking her shopping to get a bathing suit, fetching her beverages.”
“It’s hot. She’s thirsty.” It was the day after the Eastland reception and we were gathered at the pool in Tootie’s condo complex for a barbeque. I gave our hostess a look and headed back to the table under the umbrella where Blair and I were sitting. “Here you go.” I handed her the drink.
“Thank you, Jo.” She looked at the pool and laughed. “Whoops, Nat just went down.” Natalie and Snake were engaged in a splash fight with the kids: their boys, Tisha, and Tisha’s best friend Emma, daughter of Tootie’s neighbors, Mark and Bruce. “This is a terrific place for Tootie, isn’t it?”
“It is. When she decided to move out of the City after Jeff… well, she said she still wanted somewhere with people around. This has got a playground and this pool and dozens of surrogate parents right in the complex. It’s worked out well.”
“It’s also very ecumenical, “Blair noted, giving a little wave to Mark and Bruce, both of whom had developed serious gay-man crushes on her.
“I suppose.” I had to ask. “Does it bother you, seeing gay parents?”
“Of course not! How could you think that?”
“I don’t know. Your family is Republican and you live in Texas and….”
She looked hurt. “Don’t judge people by where they live, Jo. You taught me that. I have many gay friends.”
“Really?”
“You, for one; you are still a lesbian, aren’t you?”
The elephant in the room finally brayed.
“Yes Blair, I am.”
“Just checking. Natalie says you haven’t been dating much.”
Gee, thanks Nat. I caught the eye of the Mayor, who had emerged dripping from the water, and mouthed the word ’impeachment’. She just smiled.
“Well, I‘ve been busy. Keeping the peace and all. And I babysit Tisha and the twins a lot and I have my garden and my cat….”I trailed off. It sounded pathetic. I waited for Blair to point that out.
“You don’t have to justify yourself to me. I can see you have a wonderful life.”
Well, that was new. “Um thanks. I do, actually. And despite what Natalie may have implied, I’m not a nun.”
“Thank goodness. I don’t want to have to talk you out of that again. My jaw can’t take it.”
I laughed. “Yeah, I’m still sorry about that. Anyway, the truth is, I sort of feel sorry for the women I date.”
“Aside from the obvious, why?” .
“They not only have to deal with me, but with Natalie, Tootie, Mrs. G, Snake, pretty much all of Peekskill. It’s a lot to take on.”
“I see. You’re a package deal.”
“Kinda.”
Blair gave me a wistful smile. “It doesn’t sound so bad. So, do you have a date tonight?”
“No.”
“Good. I was planning on taking everyone to Antoine’s but we can do that tomorrow. You can have me for dinner at your place, instead.”
“I can, can I?”
“Yes, I want to see this Bat Cave. From what Nat says, it’s sort of like the Unabomber’s cabin.”
“Hardy har har. Such a comedian. She shouldn’t give up her day job.”
“Then it’s settled. I’ll be there at seven with pizza, so don’t worry about cooking.” She stood up. “Now that the wars have subsided, I think I’ll take a dip. I’m a little overheated.”
I watched as she peeled off her beach robe and walked daintily to the pool in the new two piece we had spent two hours shopping for at Harrison’s that morning. She wasn’t the only one who was overheated.
“A penny for your thoughts, stud,” Snake, who has snuck up behind me, said snarkily.
“I’m thinking about the ways I could murder your wife.”
“Hey, join the club. So, you’re checking out the blonde, are you? I don’t blame you. She’s one nice…”
“Shut up,” I growled.
“OK, OK. Don’t get all Gloria Steinem on me. I was going to say she’s one nice woman.”
“Yeah right.”
“I’m serious. Y’know I hate rich people on principle, but Blair’s pretty cool. Not at all stuck up like you said she was. And those Junior Texas Ranger cap pistols she brought the boys are great. They love them.”
“Setting the cause of gun control in Peekskill back about 50 years,” I pointed out.
“Lighten up. Don’t be such a girl.”
“I am a girl.”
“Yeah right,” Snake echoed, plopping down on the adjoining chair and turning his sunglass- bedecked face to the sky. I regarded the trucker fondly. Other that Nat, Tootie and Mrs. G, he was my best friend. We did a lot of what Tootie called “guy stuff” together-- ball games, car repair, scoping out the Langley cheerleaders. But the thing I loved most about Snake was that he worshipped his wife and kids. He and Natalie had a marriage I only wish my parents could have had.
The Mayor herself approached, wrapped in a towel. “OK, Mr. Tough Guy, explain how two five year old girls were nearly able to drown me. Your defense sucked.”
“Hey, that Emma is strong,” Snake replied, grabbing Nat and pulling her onto his lap. “But you know I like you wet,” he murmured.
“Ooh, gross. I’m right here; I can hear you,” I complained.
His wife shook her head. “Yeah, Snake. Very classy. You have to forgive him. I think the sight of Blair in a bathing suit has got him a little charged up.”
“I only have eyes for you, babe,” Snake protested.
“Hey, you can look, as long as it’s just looking,” Nat replied magnanimously. “Even I can admit that she improves the scenery. And you know my administration has always encouraged the beautification of Peekskill.”
“Beautification of Peekskill, huh?” Snake queried, as the three of us watched Blair step out of the pool and slowly dry herself off. “A lot better than the geranium pots on Main Street.”
I couldn’t help but agree.