Gord and I were doomed from the start. I disliked him the moment I walked up to his house, an architectural monstrosity consisting of four white concrete cubes linked together with narrow walls of white brick. It resembled an alien space pod docked amongst drooping willow trees and a gray wasteland of pebbles. Several larger rocks sat strategically around a huge abstract metal structure that spouted a stream of water from somewhere in its twisted mass. Behind this display, three massive bronze plaster balls of descending size sat on the grass.
I looked up at Guy, unable to stop my eyebrows knitting together.
“His new landscaper is into astrology,” he said as if that explained the balls. He’d been silent in the car and edgy that morning at the condo, chewing his lip while I paraded back and forth in front of him wearing various outfits until he’d nodded in approval.
“I want them to like you as much as I do, babe, and Dad can be a judgmental bastard if he wants. Believe me, I’m giving you the best chance.”
I’d call the final look he’d approved private schoolgirl meets Brit royal family. Gray dress pants and crisp white blouse, topped with a fine black cashmere sweater. The ensemble was completed by pearl studs, a heavy silver pendant and hair caught up with a silver clip.
Nancy met us at the door. I’d expected a petite brunette in a flowered skirt, not the tall, willowy, brown-eyed blonde wearing a pure white tunic and black slacks. Her short cap of hair was slicked back to reveal a tight, flawlessly made-up face that barely moved when she hugged Guy and kissed him on the cheek. I recognized the perfect mask of the botox addict whose wrinkled throat betrayed the truth.
She turned those warm brown eyes onto me. They were Guy’s eyes.
“Mom this is Anna,” he said proudly.
“How exquisite,” she said, taking my hands in hers. “Gray eyes and black hair. I’m envious.” She leaned forward and pecked my cheek. I felt awkward. Unsure if I should present the other cheek, but the moment passed and she slipped her arm into Guy’s and bustled us into an enormous room. A cavernous space, painted clinical white except for a broad gray stripe that ran from the floor, across the ceiling, and down the opposite wall. She noticed the drift of my eyes and smiled.
“Gord’s idea of drama. I know it’s a lot to take in. We don’t like clutter, you see.”
As far as I could see there wasn’t a single surplus item in the entire place. A large white leather sectional, a chrome and glass coffee table with one square red plate on it, large-screen TV on the wall, below that, a curved white entertainment unit bearing wafer-thin speakers. On top, three wicker balls. What was it with this guy and his balls?
“Are you guys talking about me again?” boomed a carefully modulated radio voice.
I turned round to see a tall, broad-shouldered man enter the room. This was him. This was Gord. Father of Guy. Face to face with me for the first time. For a moment I thought the floor shifted beneath my feet, but I painted on a smile and breathed deeply.
He was slim except for a slight paunch that strained the waist of his tailored charcoal silk shirt. He strode towards me, his hand extended. Polished. Practiced. Professional. But though he tried to fix his pale blue eyes on mine, I couldn’t stop staring at his hair. It had a rusty, dyed hue from those cover the gray products, and was combed back from the high dome of his forehead so perfectly it appeared to be sprayed into place. With his manicured sideburns, salon-tanned skin and shaped eyebrows, he was a walking TV evangelist. Just as Sabrina had described him.
I snapped my eyes away from his hair and moved in for a handshake, only to be completely surprised when he hugged me around the waist, dug his fingertips into my flesh and planted a damp kiss on my cheek. I tried not to recoil, but my body stiffened.
“We’re an affectionate lot,” he said, stepping back to check me out so boldly my insides withered. “At least my side of the family is. You’ll get used to me. Nancy’s lot tend to be a bit standoffish. I hope Guy’s not holding back. Takes after his mother.”
He clapped Guy on the shoulder and I had the urge to blurt out something like no, you ball-obsessed jerk, your son is gentle and tender and loving, and maybe you don’t know him as well as you think. Instead, I pasted on a smile – the type I used for ingratiating myself at parent-teacher meetings – and slotted my hand into the crook of Guy’s arm.
“He’s been wonderful,” I said, smiling up at Guy whose face relaxed into an expression of relief. As did Nancy’s.
“Come on, you two lovebirds,” he said, directing us towards the pristine leather sofa. “I’m sure Nancy’s fixed some cocktails for us.”
Nancy had been silently hovering in the background. Now she snapped to attention and bustled into the kitchen.
“Can I help?” I said, moving to stand. Gord motioned me to stay put.
“She doesn’t like anyone else in there. It’s her exclusive domain shall we say.” He winked at Guy. “Eh, son?”
Guy jolted into action. “What – oh yeah. You’ll probably get a tour later. Then you’ll understand. Mom’s a perfectionist when it comes to cooking.”
“Damn obsessed, I’d call it,” said Gord, rolling his eyes upwards and twirling a finger by his temple.
Nancy appeared carrying a tray of tumblers filled with colorless, sparkling drinks stuffed with limes and greenery. “I hope you like vodka,” she said, placing the tray on the table.
“All young people like it,” Gord snapped. “Guy’s bar is stacked with Grey Goose.”
Guy took a sip and wrinkled his nose. “Actually, I just bought a bottle of Alize Limited Edition. Way smoother taste.”
Gord held his glass mid-air, his upper lip curled in disdain. “Well, sorry if our discount brand doesn’t stack up to your champagne tastes.”
“Try it next time you’re over,” said Guy, picking up his glass.
Gord winced. “I’ll hold you to that, kid,” he said, downing his drink in two gulps.
Nancy and I were virtually silent for the entire pre-dinner exchange. She kept flitting in and out fetching perfect little nibbles on stark white plates. Wafers of prosciutto coiled around tiny cubes of melon, shrimp curled in miniature white cups with their own white dipping sauce, and little squares of melba toast spread with cream cheese and a dollop of pale caviar. I sat listening to the back and forth between Guy and Gord, relieved on the one hand that Gord wasn’t probing into my murky past, but puzzled that he’d barely addressed me since our initial, awkward greeting.
When Nancy finally announced dinner was ready, we all filed towards the dining table, an enormous slab of black granite flecked with beige. The edges were rough and unfinished.
“Custom order,” said Gord, pulling out his chair at the head of the table. “Quarried in Italy according to my exact specifications. Incredible what you can get nowadays.”
“They say quartz is the new thing now,” said Guy, settling himself at the other end of the table. “I’m thinking of refinishing my kitchen with it, then working in some metal or natural wood.”
He’d never mentioned the idea to me. His kitchen was already high-end as far as I was concerned.
“Well, good luck trying to get it custom quarried like I did,” said Gord, a noticeable quaver of irritation in his voice.
“You don’t quarry quartz, Dad. It’s man-made,” said Guy, reaching for the bread. The barest flicker of arrogance distorted his face, transforming him for an instant into a stranger I hardly knew. I shivered as Gord placed both hands on the table.
“Always trying to make the old man look like a moron. Never misses a trick.” His eyes finally rested on me. “Watch out, Mandy, he’ll be tripping you up on your misplaced modifiers before long.”
“It’s Anna, Dad, not Mandy,” said Guy with a sigh, placing a hand over mine and smiling with such affection I realized I’d been holding my breath for the last thirty seconds. I exhaled and let the warm cocoon of intimacy wrap around me once again.
Gord sat back. Tension shimmered in the air. Then Nancy swept in with a platter of white fish garnished with asparagus and tiny roasted potatoes.
“I hope you’re not allergic,” she said, nodding towards the fish.
“Well, it’s a bit late to ask that, isn’t it?” said Gord, offering me the plate. “That’s the kind of thing you’d find out in advance.”
I shook my head. “It’s fine. No allergies here.” If they only knew there were times in my life I’d have eaten potato peel I was so hungry.
Entertainment during dinner was the Gord show. He treated us to a complete rundown of his educational theories, only pausing his lecture to insert a piece of fish, chew on it, then start up again.
I’d seen people like him plenty of times before. Self-proclaimed gurus who sold a quick-fix solution to harried school boards struggling to raise standards to keep up with students in Finland, Korea, China and all the other top ten countries. At last, they pronounced, gleefully rubbing their hands together, the answer to every problem that ails our faltering education system. The golden key to unlocking unlimited potential. We can sell this dream and we’ve found the right person to do it.
He regaled us with anecdotes about his many keynote addresses. In my short career I’d sat through plenty of those forty-minute speeches that left everyone feeling good but empty-handed. With nothing that could be translated into real, concrete classroom practice.
When the plates were empty, he stopped abruptly and turned to me. “So Guy tells me you work in an alternative program.”
I blinked myself into full consciousness, understanding why I’d seen Guy and Nancy do exactly the same thing earlier. “I do, that’s where I met Guy.” I smiled over at Guy. He smiled back and I felt an immediate urge to make love to him.
“I think they’re in love, Gord,” said Nancy, her eyes smiling but her face strained.
“Ah – the joys of youth,” said Gord, sighing and stumbling to his feet. He’d downed at least three glasses of wine over dinner. “But I’m afraid it’s time for some shop talk if you’ll excuse us, Anna. You girls can take the time to get better acquainted.”
Guy gave me a hurried peck on the cheek, then father and son took off into a teak-paneled office lined with bookshelves. Before the door slammed shut, I saw a heavy wooden desk surrounded by framed photographs and certificates.
I picked up my dinner plate and followed Nancy into the kitchen, which resembled the interior of a space pod. Glossy white surfaces everywhere. Chrome accents. The fridge and stove concealed into recessed walls. A gleaming white island with three white pendant lights dangling above three white candlesticks of varying heights each topped with a perfect lemon. There’d be no spaghetti and meatballs cooked in this kitchen.
Nancy bustled around, stacking dishes into the dishwasher.
“Gord talks a lot at first, but he’s just insecure meeting new people.”
Insecure was not a word I’d ever associate with Gord Franzen, but then I remembered she’d been a kindergarten teacher, a position requiring a saintly level of empathy and patience.
“It’s okay. I found him interesting. Stimulating actually.”
“You are a diplomat,” she said, turning from the sink with a candid expression that quite disarmed me. This was not the person who’d sat like a dutiful robot during dinner while Gord did his turn.
“I did – I mean I really enjoyed…” I stuttered.
“Don’t worry, Anna,” she said, drying her hands and turning towards me. “Gord and I are delighted that Guy’s finally hooked up with someone like you. Someone who understands what we’re all about.”
I wasn’t sure how to respond since I really hadn’t figured them out at all, but somehow, she’d decided I was the right fit. That I belonged. Maybe because I sat like a statue and let Gord do his thing. Maybe because Birdie and I had learned to throw our lot in with anyone that showed an interest in us. We were chameleons, changing our skin to suit our surroundings and fitting in was the way we survived one lousy foster home after another. I mastered the art of blending in till I was almost unseen. It was safer that way. But Birdie clamored for attention, praise – connection. She twirled like a wind-up doll, begging for anyone to look at me, see me, I’m cute, loveable. Want me, notice me, love me.
Too bad it would eventually be her undoing.
It was almost mine, too, because later when Birdie disappeared, I was too broken to care about fitting in.
“How about some grapefruit sorbet?” Nancy slammed the dishwasher shut, rousing me from my thoughts. She opened the fridge door revealing stacks of perfectly arranged Tupperware containers. I gulped my wine too quickly and coughed.
She laughed. “I know. I’m a little obsessive. But order calms me.”
“Now I see who Guy takes after.”
She spooned the pale lemony ice into white glass bowls. “He was always a lovely boy. A gentle soul.” She stopped for a moment, the spoon held in mid-air and looked at me with steely eyes. “Be kind to him, Anna.”
“Of course,” I said, taking an extra slug of wine to steady my nerves, then excused myself to use the bathroom. The tone of her voice had felt like a warning, which made me wonder just how many times Nancy had stepped in as Guy’s protector. Maybe the two of them still enjoyed a mutual alliance against the power of Gord.
But any misgivings I had about fitting into Nancy’s world flew away when I stepped into their bathroom. Compared to the sterility of the other rooms, this was a haven of sensuality. Tears sprang to my eyes when I estimated that 99.9 percent of the population would never set foot in or even glimpse a room as exquisite as this one. Two white tapers in large teak candlesticks flooded the ceiling and walls with a pale honeyed glow. One side of the room was a continuous wall of windows looking out onto a forest of birch trees, their slender trunks so perfect it seemed an artist had created the exquisite arrangement of silvery saplings.
In front of the window a perfect shell of a tub sat like a modern sculpture on a freckled marble platform. A long marble and wood vanity ended in a shower enclosure as large as an average bedroom. Lined with the same honey-colored marble, it boasted four rectangular showerheads. My fingers itched to switch on the water. To strip off my clothes and get inside. It would be like standing in the middle of a forest during a warm rain shower. I stood open-mouthed like a child in a toy store, my fingertips resting on the glass enclosure.
My mind swam back to all the bathrooms I’d ever used in my life. Cracked white tubs with scum lines and mildewy grout. Hairs plastered on shower walls, the eggy stink of sewer gas, toothpaste splatter on mirrors, moldy vinyl shower curtains streaked with soap scum. Danger lurking in every grimy corner, behind every cracked and fingerprint-streaked door. A wave of nausea rushed into my throat.
Sabrina was right. I wanted this world. Wanted it so bad my stomach ached. If I could live in safety, surrounded by such pristine perfection I’d learn to listen to Gord and never interrupt. It was worth it at any cost. I’d give up my soul just to stay here.
“They loved you,” said Guy on the drive home. He patted my knee. “I’m proud of you.”
“Really. I hardly opened my mouth.”
He shook his head, his eager glance flitting to me then back to the road. “Not at all. You were polite and interested. That counts for a lot with Dad.”
I focused on the rear lights of the car ahead, my vision blurring in a fog of red. “Easy to see why,” I murmured.
“Meaning what?”
“He likes to hold court. I mean he’s probably always the one that grabs the mic at parties or family gatherings. The guy you have to drag offstage with a metal hook.”
Guy’s shoulders slumped. “Mom and I both know it’s easier to let him have his say. He’s used to taking charge and having the last word.”
“No offense meant,” I said, picturing the forest scene from that glorious bathroom window and swallowing any further acid comebacks. “I enjoyed listening to him and I really liked your mother.”
“She’s a special person. Glad you liked her.”
I leaned over and nestled against his arm. I really didn’t want to hurt Guy.
Curb your wicked tongue I told myself, wondering who on earth had uttered that strange, archaic phrase to me. Or did someone say it to Birdie? I couldn’t remember. Or perhaps I knew perfectly well and wasn’t ready to confront the awful truth yet.