I was over an hour late. I expected Mom to be upset—maybe even to make a scene. But, when I walked through the door of our penthouse suite, Ida stood at the counter, calmly trimming a bouquet of multicolored roses down with a pair of nail scissors. She looked at me over the row of blossoms and nodded her head toward the sofa, where Mom and the mystery guest sat, giggling.
The guest was female, pretty. Maybe Mom’s age, but probably a little younger. She and Mom laughed softly, their heads close. The woman’s eyes were wide and dark, lovely beneath pale, coppery eyebrows. Her metallic-red hair was cut in a bob, and the formal black dress she wore was nicer than anything I owned. When she stood up, I realized how tall she was. She walked over to me, and Mom followed, scurrying behind her. I felt a stab of envy at her coolness, at her ability to make Mom giggle.
“You must be Van,” the woman said. “I’ve heard wonderful things about you.” She hugged me, hard, pulling me from where I stood almost three feet away with her long arms. I imagined being squeezed tight by an elephant at the zoo, its unwelcome trunk grasping my body in a hot, musky trap. It was her perfume, too, a dark tangy fragrance, that gave me that suffocating feeling. I froze, not sure if I should apologize for my lack of punctuality. It seemed a better bet not to bring it up—whoever this woman was, she sure made Mom cheerful. I wasn’t about to meddle with that.
“What a lovely young lady you are,” she said as she released me a little.
I turned my face away from her perfumed neck to take a breath of semi-fresh air.
“Van, this is the friend from Cleveland I told you about, Marine,” Mom said.
Marine? Cleveland? I thought. What?
“You know, I’ve been working with your mother for some time,” Marine began. “Remotely, of course. But she has such wonderful, vital energy, I couldn’t resist coming for a visit to meet her in person.”
Mom beamed at Marine, and then I realized who she was. The astrotherapist. I unthreaded myself from Marine’s arms by ducking a little and stepping back.
“Oh sure, nice to meet you,” I said. “I’m just going to wash my hands.” I waved and retreated to the bathroom. Even when I closed the door, I could smell Marine’s perfume.
Mom had ordered a special dinner—roasted chicken—and by the time I’d collected myself, she, Ida, and Marine were seated around the bird’s carcass in the middle of the table. A bottle of wine stood at Marine’s left. She lifted it and filled her glass, and Mom’s, which was really, really not a good idea. I looked at Ida.
“Have a seat, honey,” Ida said, tapping the chair beside her. “Marine was just telling me that she’s from France.”
“Oh really?” I said. I tried not to stare as Mom drank from her glass.
“I was born there, but I’ve lived here a very long time,” Marine said.
Mom served herself from the bowl of potatoes on the room-service cart. Marine looked from Mom to me and reached across the table to grab my hand.
“You know, Van,” she said, “I sense that you and your mother have a similar, powerful energy.” Panic prickled at the back of my throat, the way it did whenever anyone compared me to Mom. Maybe that similar, powerful energy was exactly what I’d felt playing at Red’s.
“Don’t they, though?” Ida said, taking my other hand and turning it over in her own.
Marine nodded, her hair glinting under the track lighting.
“I would love it if we could use this opportunity to discuss anything bothering you. Perhaps your plans for the future.” She gave Mom a quick but serious look. “I’d love to be able to help you, Van,” Marine said. “I know Mercury is in retrograde right now and it’s unwise to begin anything significant, but I feel I must offer.”
I had no idea how to answer, but Ida quickly cut in. “That’s a very good point, honey. You don’t mess with Mercury in retrograde.”
Mom gave Ida a look like a fly swatter. Mom was already protecting this woman. Already it was going to be something very difficult to undo.
“Um, no, nothing’s really bothering me. At the moment,” I told Marine, trying—and failing—to look into her eyes as I said it.
Marine took a deep breath, like she was inhaling the smell of the dinner.
“Of course, I respect that,” she said. “But know that I’m here if you need me.”
“That’s so kind, Marine,” Mom said. She smiled into Marine’s face, one of her best smiles.
I went to bed early—Ida and I both did—to give Marine and Mom a chance to talk or astrotherapize or whatever. The next morning, though, it was clear Marine had not left. Her cheetah print purse still hung on the coat rack, and an unfamiliar cell phone was out on the counter, beeping erratically, advertising its languishing battery. The door to Mom’s room was closed. Great, I thought. Mom’s a lesbian now. Just when you think you understand all of the variables, you realize you know nothing at all.
I felt queasy, thinking about Mom with someone new. It was different when she got with William. We needed him, and he loved Mom. Also, there was something harmless about him. He didn’t get in the way of what Mom and I were to each other. This woman, though. Mom already seemed too happy with her. Much happier than she’d been with William.
Ida was already waiting for me in the living room, along with a freshly ordered breakfast. “Well, how did it go?” she asked.
“How did what go?”
“Band practice,” she stage-whispered.
I grinned and uncovered a plate of eggs and bacon. “It was great,” I told her. I felt like I could have started crying, that’s how good it felt to remember playing with Carol and Joanna.
“Ah, honey, I’m glad,” she said.
Marine’s phone beeped.
“Meanwhile,” Ida said, giving the phone a grimace.
“Yeah, meanwhile is right. How long is she staying? Did she say? Before I came home?”
“Yes, about that—you owe me, young lady. I covered for your ass and I covered good.”
“Do you want some bacon? Would that make us even?”
“Yes, I would, and no, it would not. I’m talking multiple-foot-rubs owe me.”
“I’m talking ointment-application owe me,” she said gleefully.
“Eww!” I fixed Ida’s breakfast plate and handed it over.
Marine’s phone beeped again, and Ida and I both fell silent and looked over at it.
“She didn’t say exactly how long,” Ida began, “but she sure doesn’t have plans to leave any time soon.” Ida looked pale under the kitchenette light; the veins on her hands were raised and gruesomely blue. I felt a prickle of anxiety behind my ears, but I pushed it away. Ida was still in her prime.
“Why do you say that?” I pressed the space behind my ears, pretending to smooth down my hair.
“Did you see her suitcase? No, I guess you didn’t because you were late. But that monstrosity she brought was the size of Delaware. Also, she said she’s staying on as your mom’s assistant, whatever that means.”
“Jesus. Can we do anything?”
“Not yet, I don’t think. Honey,” Ida began, then paused, looking up at the ceiling. “Do you, I mean,” she stopped and shook her head. “Has Chantal tried to speak to you about your mother?”
“What? No, why would she? Mom’s been doing fine. Right?”
“Right. Well, for the most part,” Ida said.
“Why? Has she talked to you?”
“She has.” Ida paused again and squinted a little. Then her face relaxed, and she smiled. “She’s talked to me so much, I’m starting to think Chantal has a thing for me.” She smirked as she propped her bare feet on top of the coffee table. She wiggled her wrinkly toes. “Which one do you want to start with, left or right?”
“You are so gross,” I said, smiling. “I’m going to class. You think she’ll be gone by the time I get back?”