*Beep*
Del—it’s Michelle. Why haven’t you returned my phone calls? Also, your mom…she needs to be stopped. Will you please call her back? She somehow got into the building this morning and knocked on my door looking for you. I pretended not to be home. Call me. Bye.
*Beep*
It’s Daisy. I really need to talk to you. Call me.
#1 Nate Syracuse
High school boyfriend.
when kitty comes a knockin’
wednesday, april 20
The next morning, as I wait in line to pay for gas while still in New Orleans, I feel sick to my stomach for a couple of reasons. For one, I’m not too eager to hit the road again because I hate, hate, hate my car. It blows. Literally. All over the road. It’s a cheap little piece of shit that feels like it’s made from an egg carton. And two, I can’t believe the guy I shared my first time with is actually doing time. This is horrible—he was the first love of my life. He’s where this all started. It’s like a sign from God, saying “You’ve been doomed from the get-go. I don’t even know why you’re trying.”
Nate wasn’t the love of my life, but he was my first love, and because of that, I’ve always held a special place for him in my heart. We went to high school together and dated on and off during our junior and senior years. I was crazy about him. He had a private school-boy look, very Dead Poets Society. He was a little bit of a hippie but in a privileged Connecticut sort of way. Like his sweaters might’ve had holes near the elbows, but they were made of cashmere. And he might’ve followed Phish around for a month, but he did so while driving a BMW. Nate was a spoiled rich kid all right, but he didn’t act like one. He was quiet, kind, and not at all arrogant.
On a beautiful spring day a couple weeks before we graduated, Nate came over after school. Since my mom and Victor were out of town, I offered him a beer and took one for myself. The two of us then sat outside on the back deck and drank them. I’ll never forget the feeling I had that day. It was spring, so it felt alive outside, and I was getting ready to graduate and leave home for the very first time, so I felt alive inside.
Nate and I looked at each other without saying much that day. I think the fact that we were going to different schools was setting in and neither of us knew what to say. I can still see him sitting there, looking slightly disheveled in his navy blue school uniform. He was so cute—a loosened red tie hung around his neck and the top few buttons of his oxford shirt were undone. A big mess of wavy brown hair sat on top of his head and his cheeks were slightly flushed.
After a while we both smiled at each other. I’m not sure what Nate was thinking when he did, but I knew that even if we lost touch, I’d always carry a part of him with me. Although I was naive, I was aware enough to know just how young and impressionable I was, aware enough to understand the influence Nate had on who I was and who I’d become. He instilled a free-spirited attitude in me, taught me to live life to the fullest, live life in the moment. And I’ve done that. Maybe a little too much in some respects, but still.
Later that afternoon a couple more friends came over. By that evening we were all buzzed, feeling melancholy, and dancing to Cat Stevens. When the song “Wild World” came on, Nate wrapped his arms around me and sang in my ear. “Oh, baby, baby, it’s a wild world. I’ll always remember you…” He then started kissing my shoulders, my neck, and then my lips.
The alcohol made the sex easier. It still hurt, but I was more relaxed, that’s for sure. I remember it being awkward. I remember thinking Nate’s penis was too big, that it wasn’t going to work. But after trying for a while I was surprised when it did. Even though it didn’t feel that good I still liked it. Despite the discomfort, I loved the closeness of it. I loved feeling all of Nate’s weight on top of me. It was all so strange and new, and he looked into my eyes the entire time, telling me it would be okay. I loved that.
We spent every day together that summer. When we left for college, we decided not to break up but take things as they came, to just see what would happen. We talked a few times the first week we got there but then not so much. A couple of months later I knew Nate had plans to come home for the weekend to go to a Santana concert, so I grabbed two friends, hopped on a train, and went as well. I wanted to surprise him, and well…I did. When I found him and some of our other high school friends, I saw him standing with a girl. I didn’t know who she was. All I knew is that she was hanging all over him and he wasn’t pushing her away. When I said hello to everyone, Nate nodded and then ignored me. At the time I felt like I didn’t have a right to be angry because we said we’d take things as they come, but thinking back now, I had every right to be—I mean, we never officially broke up.
Daniel the priest was Nate’s best friend back then and was at the concert that evening. Seeing that I was upset, he asked if I wanted to talk and I said yes. I remember thinking—hoping—that Nate would see me leave with Daniel, get jealous, realize he loved me, and come after me. He didn’t.
Daniel and I started kissing in the parking lot, and the next thing you know, were in the back of his mom’s wood-paneled Wagoneer having sex. At the time I remember thinking Daniel’s eyes were closed because he was thinking about Nate, feeling bad that he was having sex with his best friend’s former girlfriend. Having learned how he ended up, however, I now know that wasn’t the case; I now know he was thinking about Jesus.
Nate found out about Daniel and called me a couple of times the following month to yell at me for it, which in a way made me happy—happy because he cared. (In a way it’s kind of screwed up to feel that way; but at the same time, it’s kind of normal.) That winter, Nate’s parents moved from Connecticut to Colorado so he stopped coming home for holiday breaks. I never saw him or talked to him again.
After paying for gas, string-cheese for Eva (she goes bananas it), and a set of cab-driver beads for my back, I get back in my car and reread the attachment in Colin’s e-mail with the details of what happened. Apparently Nate was arrested during some sort of environmental sit-in, along with a bunch of other people. Studying his file, I notice that there are two addresses listed for him. One is in Telluride and the other, oddly enough, is on Franklin Street in Manhattan. I think I would’ve heard if he moved back to the East Coast, especially New York, but maybe not—I don’t talk to that many people from high school anymore. Feeling bad about the way things ended with Abogado in New Orleans, feeling desperate, I pick up my cell phone and call the only phone number listed, which is a Colorado one. Not surprisingly, it goes right to voicemail. I decide to leave a message.
“Hey, Nate,” I say quietly. “I’m sure this is kind of a weird phone call to get, but it’s Delilah Darling. We haven’t talked in ages and I was just thinking about you. I ran into Daniel not too long ago—”
Shit! Why did I mention Daniel? Way to bring up bad memories.
“Um…anyway,” I continue. “I was just remembering how much fun we had back in the day and…I don’t know…I kind of miss you sometimes.”
Okay, that was even more stupid—it’s been eleven years!
“I mean I think of you sometimes,” I say, trying to cover. “Anyway, give me a call sometime.” After leaving my cell and home phone numbers, I hang up and hold my head in my hands.
Shit.
I should’ve rehearsed that.
Suddenly my cell phone rings, startling me. Knowing Nate wouldn’t be calling me back this quickly (he’s still locked up), I look at the caller ID. It’s Colin.
“So how are things going with the chef?” he asks when I answer.
Going? I laugh at the thought—they went.
“None of your business,” I say. I’m still angry at him for tricking me yesterday.
“Fine, fine,” he says, sighing loudly. “You know, I don’t know why you’re so secretive. I mean, Kitty’s so open.”
“Kitty?” I’m confused. “You mean Kitty, like my mom?”
“Yes, Kitty like your mom indeed.”
Oh no. A pit forms in my stomach.
“Uh…how do you know my mom’s name?”
“Well, she introduced herself to me this morning after she woke me up, knocking on my door at eight o’clock.”
I suddenly remember Michelle’s message from this morning. Shit! I should’ve done what she said; I should’ve called my mom back.
“Why was my mom knocking on your door?” I ask, even though I really don’t want to know.
“She knocked on everyone’s door in the building. I was just the lucky one who answered. She was looking for you. She’s worried. She said she left numerous messages for you at home but you didn’t call her back so she tried you at work and heard that you got sacked. When I asked if she tried calling your mobile, she told me you didn’t have one. Delilah…how could you not give your mother your mobile number?”
“You met her,” I say defensively. “Would you, if you were me?”
“As a matter of fact, I did give her mine, after we finished our tea.”
“Oh, you’ll regret it, mark my—wait—You had tea with my mother?”
“Yes, I did. She’s got her knickers all up in a twist and needed someone to talk to.”
“Her knickers all up in a twist?” What in the hell? “About what?”
“Well, Daisy’s moved up her wedding.” Colin says this like he knows her. “Instead of it happening in two years, it’s gonna happen in two months, in the middle of June at the Waldorf=Astoria. They had a cancellation, and Edward, with all the connections he has being a big Wall Streeter and all, was able to snag the date.” He says this like he knows him too. “So anyway, Kitty was fine with everything until—” Colin stops talking.
“Until?”
“Until she found out that Edward’s Jewish.”
“Edward’s Jewish?”
“Yep.”
Jewish? How could I not have known this? How could Daisy not have mentioned this to me? To anyone? “Wait—He’s black and Jewish?”
“It’s been known to happen. You ever hear of Lenny Kravitz?”
“Yes, I know, it’s just not very common.”
“Yes, I s’pose you’re right.”
Wow, Edward’s Jewish. Okay, I’ve processed it.
“I can understand my mom being caught off-guard,” I tell Colin. “But why is upset?” She may be slightly crazy, but she’s hardly anti-Semitic.
“Well, because Daisy and Edward aren’t having the ceremony in a Catholic church, and she’s heartbroken about it.”
“She’s heartbroken about it? Oh please!” My mother is so dramatic. “Colin, don’t let her fool you into thinking she’s a devout Catholic. When I was younger, she used to take Daisy and me to mass at the local hospital because the service in the chapel there was only twenty minutes long.” She did, I swear.
“I’m sure she had her reasons,” Colin says, defending her. “She’s a busy woman.”
“Yeah, yeah, whatever. So is she okay now?”
“Yeah, I think so. She seemed to calm down once the whiskey started working.”
“Whiskey? Colin! You gave my mom whiskey at eight o’clock in the morning?”
“Hey, don’t jump down my throat! I didn’t give it to her. She pulled a flask out of her purse and poured it in her tea herself.”
“No way,” I say incredulously.
“Seriously, she did. It was a small silver monogrammed one.”
“Monogrammed?”
“Yep.”
“Oh my…” I can’t believe my mother carries around a monogrammed flask. Oddly, I find myself having a little more respect for her.
“You should call her,” Colin says. “But give her until at least three. She’s got yoga today.”
“Yoga…right…”
After a long pause, Colin speaks somewhat reluctantly. “You know, Delilah, I wasn’t gonna say anything, but your mom asked me when the last time I saw you was because she was concerned. I told her it was last night because I didn’t want her to worry. When I said that, her eyes lit up like a Christmas tree and she threw her arms around my neck and hugged the living daylights out of me. I think she thought I meant that we spent the night together.”
“You’re joking…right?”
“’Fraid not.”
Oh, God, I’m so embarrassed.
“After that,” Colin continues, “she started going on and on about how worried she’s been about you, with Daisy getting married first and all.”
Okay, now I’m more embarrassed. What is my mom thinking? To talk about me with her friends is one thing. To do it with some guy she thinks I’m dating is another.
“Colin, my mom can act kind of crazy sometimes,” I say, trying to explain, “and I’m sorry you had to be on the receiving end of it.”
“Ah, don’t worry,” he says quietly. “Delilah, I know it’s none of my business, but you’re not tracking down old boyfriends because your sister’s getting married, are ya?”
I roll my eyes. I hate this—I hate having to defend myself.
“No, I’m sure it looks that way, but I’m not.”
“Then I don’t understand why you’re doing what you’re doing. I mean, are ya trying to get back together with these guys you’re having me find? Is that it?”
I hate this. I hate this, I hate this, I hate this.
“Colin, it’s complicated and I don’t feel like explaining. Please don’t listen to my mom though. If any part of my life contradicts what she considers to be normal then she assumes I’m unhappy. It’s like she’s disappointed in me for not following the masses, for not walking down the same traditional path that her friends’ daughters have walked down. Do you understand?”
“Actually, I do. My father’s pretty similar. Or he used to be, anyway.”
“In what way?”
“He’s always thought I should pursue a more stable career. He’d do anything to get me interested in his business so I can take it over one day and have what he calls a ‘normal life.’ While I don’t mind helping him out occasionally to pick up extra cash and what not, I’ve made it very clear that it’s not what I want to do. Even if I spend the rest of my life struggling, getting bit parts here and there, I’ll never want what he has. This was hard for him to accept at first, but I’m my own person and he knows that.”
“I am too, but for some reason my mother doesn’t see that.”
“Well, you need to tell her then, like I told my father. You don’t have to be rude about it, but you gotta set her straight—otherwise, she’ll never stop being disappointed. When you finally do meet someone and decide to get married, she’ll find something wrong with the way you’re planning your wedding—I mean, look at Daisy. After that she’ll start in on your marriage, and after that she’ll find something wrong with the way you’re raising your kids. You gotta nip this thing in the bud now or it’ll never stop.”
I think about what Colin’s saying; he’s right. For as far back as I can remember, my mom’s always been this way—from high school, to college, to getting my first job—and I’ve never dealt with it. I bitch and bitch and bitch about my mother, but I never tell her how I feel.
“Listen, if you’re not ready to stand up for yourself, then at least throw your mom a bone for the moment, to keep your sanity.”
“Throw her a bone?” I’m confused.
“Yeah, tell her you’re dating someone or something so she’ll leave you alone.”
Although I laugh at Colin’s suggestion, it isn’t such a bad idea. My friend Julie has a pretend boyfriend named Gary, and her mother—“Smother”—thinks they’ve been dating for years. Every time she’s supposed to meet him, Julie tells her that something’s come up and Gary can’t make it.*
“I guess you’re right,” I tell Colin.
“Damn right, I’m right. Now tell your mother how you feel or throw her a feckin’ bone already so she’ll leave you alone!”
“Okay, okay,” I say, laughing. “I will.” I like Colin; he’s funny.
“Excellent,” he exclaims. He then turns on the charm. “Now c’mon, tell me…how’s it going with the chef?”
“You’re very persistent, you know that?”
“I have to be. I’m an actor. Now fess up. I already know he’s an old boyfriend; you might as well tell me how it went.”
“Okay fine,” I say, exhaling loudly. “If you wanna know the truth, he caught me spying on him and thinks I’m a total loser.” I hear Colin stifle a laugh. “It’s not funny!”
“Oh, c’mon…yes, it is. A little bit, at least.”
“You weren’t there.”
“No, I wasn’t. Which sucks, to be honest, because I would’ve paid to see it.”
“Yeah, yeah—whatever.”
“So…how about the jailbird? Who’s he?”
“That’s enough sharing for today,” I say quickly. Honestly, it’s too painful to think about poor Nate behind bars.
“A story for another time, I s’pose. Until then, be careful out there, will ya?”
“I will, and thanks for everything. You know, with my mom.”
“Ah…’twas nothin’,” Colin says softly and sweetly.
After hanging up, I call Daisy when I’m safely on the highway and find out that everything Colin said was true. She and Edward are indeed moving their wedding up. The only reason they were waiting two years in the first place was because they wanted to have it at the Starlight Roof, a legendary art deco nightclub in the Waldorf that was all the rage in the thirties, and that’s how long the wait was—two years. Despite the short notice, my mom was fine with the date change and didn’t freak out until she found out Edward was Jewish.
“Mom, don’t worry,” Daisy said, trying to calm her down. “It’s not like I’m converting or anything.”
“What about your kids?” she asked. “How are you going to raise them?”
“They’ll be aware of both religions,” Daisy explained. “They’ll have a Christmas tree and a menorah. They’ll get the best of both worlds; it’ll be great.”
“It won’t be great, it’ll be confusing,” Mom argued, then sarcastically suggested to Daisy that she throw a Kwanza bush in the mix to really fuck them up.
“Every time I call her now she won’t stop crying,” Daisy explains to me. “Can you please call her and help smooth things over?”
“Absolutely,” I say.
After filling me in on the rush wedding plans, Daisy says that she and Edward have decided to not have a bridal party except for a maid of honor and a best man. After asking me to stand up for her (I of course say yes) Daisy tells me that she’s already ordered not only her dress but my dress too. I’m horrified.
“Wait, what? You ordered my dress? Why? I mean, I didn’t even try it on!”
“Oh relax. It’s a floor-length satin strapless gown and you’ll look gorgeous in it.”
“What color is it?”
“Scarlet.”
“Scarlet? You mean like red?”
“Yep.”
Oh, great. This is perfect, just perfect. While Daisy will be a vision of white virginal beauty on her wedding day, I’ll be the tramp in the red dress.
“Trust me, Del,” Daisy says, sensing my worry. “I work in retail. I know what I’m doing.”
“You sell wallets, not dresses,” I point out.
“Not yet I don’t,” she explains, “but I’m working my way up the Saks ladder and will soon. By the way, this is ultimately your own fault. I thought you were on a business trip and didn’t want the fact that I moved my wedding up to stress you out. Speaking of which, why did you lie about losing your job?”
“You saw how happy Mom was when I told her I didn’t.”
“Yeah, I did, but I’m not Mom. You could’ve at least told me.”
“Yes, you’re right, but it’s a two-way street. You could’ve told me about Edward, too. Wait—Why didn’t you tell me about Edward?”
“I don’t know,” Daisy says, sighing. “I guess I didn’t want Mom finding out about it from anyone other than me. You know how she is. When things turn out differently than how she expects, she doesn’t exactly take it well.”
I laugh. “You don’t say?”
“But you know,” Daisy continues, “call me crazy, but I think she’s getting better, which is why her being upset over this religion thing surprised me.”
“Better?” I don’t believe it. “How so?”
“Well, since the engagement party, for example, she keeps telling me that she can’t wait until February, black history month, because she went out and bought a book on Rosa Parks and is looking forward to wowing people with her knowledge.”
“She did?” I’m impressed.
“Yep. I think that once she gets over the initial shock of whatever it is that’s different—she’s gung-ho about it.”
Hmm. Good to know.
Before hanging up, Daisy tells me that the tasting at the Waldorf is set to take place in three weeks. She expects me to be there; I write down the date.
Later that afternoon when I’m sure my mom is home from yoga, I give her a call like Daisy asked. (I make sure to hit *67 to block my cell phone number before I do. I don’t care what Colin says; she doesn’t need to know I have a cell phone.) After a twenty-minute conversation I’m able to convince her that it’s not that big of a deal that Edward’s Jewish.
“Things could be much worse,” I say. “He could be a member of one of those freaky religions out in Utah that condone polygamy. I saw a special on TV about it once, and the men believe they need three wives in order to get into heaven.”
“Maybe you’re right,” she sighs, still sounding somewhat disappointed. “I was just really looking forward to hearing someone sing ‘Ave Maria.’”
“Maybe someone still can,” I suggest.
My mom perks up. “Do you think?”
“Yeah, ask Daisy. A little ‘Ave Maria’ never hurt anyone.”
“You know, you’re absolutely right! A little ‘Ave Maria’ never did hurt anyone!”
“Great!” I exclaim proudly. I’m so happy to have helped! “Now go call Daisy!”
“I will, but before I go”—the tone of my mom’s voice changes—“Why didn’t you tell me that you lost your job?”
Damn! I was hoping to hang up before she brought this up. “Well, I was going to,” I say slowly. “But I’ve been so busy lately and—”
“I’ve heard!” she screeches, the tone of her voice changing yet again. “And he’s so cute!”
For the next few minutes I listen to my mom gush about Colin, except she calls him Cohlin, like Colin Powell. When she finally stops talking to take a breath, I break it to her that we’re not a couple. Although she sounds crushed at first, she tells me that she’s going to remain optimistic because…
“Not only is he single, charming, and sexy, but he lives right across the hall from you. It’s so perfect! I was just reading an article about how men and women in Manhattan tend to date people who live in a location that’s geographically desirable to them. For instance, if they live on the same subway line, then that’s good. They called it having a locationship instead of a relationship. Maybe you and Cohlin can have that.”
“Cahlin, Mom.”
“Oh right, sorry. Maybe you and Cohlin can have that.”
“Mom, I already told you—we’re just friends. Actually, we’re not even that—we’re acquaintances. We’re neighbors. We’ve met only twice. I barely know him.”
“Well, now’s the perfect time to change that since you don’t have a job to get in the way, right?” Before answering, I weigh my options.
If I tell my mom she’s right, then she’ll never leave me alone and she’ll drive me crazy calling for updates. However, if I tell her that I’m not interested in getting to know Colin better, then she’ll assume I’m a lesbian because how could any single woman not find him attractive?—he’s perfect. I suddenly remember his advice: throw her a bone.
“Actually, Mom, now’s not the perfect time because…because I’ve been dating someone else.”
“Dating someone?” My mother gasps with excitement. “You have?”
“Yes, and I don’t want to jinx it so I’d rather not talk about it.”
“Oh, I completely understand! But can you at least tell me his name? I’m just so excited!”
His name? Hmm. Oh heck, if Daisy can get a black Jewish guy…
“His name is Yoshi and he’s a Japanese Buddhist,” I proudly exclaim.
“Yoshi?” my mom booms. “A Buddhist? How exciting!”
“Yes, Mom. How exciting. Now no more questions.”
“I promise! Oh, wait—Can I tell the ladies in my yoga class though? They’ll be so impressed!”
“Sure, whatever.”
“Great! Oh dear, look at the time. I’ve gotta run. I’m meeting Sally Epstein out for an afternoon coffee. She’s gonna teach me some hebonics.”
“Hebonics?”
“Yes, I’m gonna learn a little Hebrew so I don’t embarrass myself when I meet Edward’s parents.”
“Hebrew? Wow. Well good luck.”
After hanging up, I giggle to myself and Eva. Yoshi, a Japanese Buddhist? Where the heck did that come from?