Chapter 14

The next evening Chelly sat at a six-foot table in the damp church basement the repertory company called home. She drank her bottled water, ostensibly reviewing the script during a break in play rehearsal. A smile curled her lips because she couldn’t stop thinking about Sean.

His smile—easy and kissable; his body—strong and stately; his hands—well, his hands, with his long, musician’s fingers, extracted exquisite delight from all they touched. She slowly inhaled and flushed, feeling them excite her now. Unable to focus on the script, she self-consciously smoothed her hair at the nape of her neck. Such thoughts had to be a sin in anybody’s place of worship.

Was anyone noticing her flustered state? She looked around and glimpsed the play’s musical director approaching the piano. The play, Cucumber Cool, had a non-original score.

Rehearsal, Chelly decided, was the perfect training ground for the new role Sean had talked her into undertaking. She needed a long stick to poke at “pretend love,” to carefully peek under the lid of this scary well of emotion she’d sealed shut long ago. Facing it would take the courage of Indiana Jones, but she’d promised Sean she’d give it a whirl.

Chelly looked down at her script again before her wandering attention settled on the ceiling and the brown leak that seeped through and dribbled onto the tile floor to an awaiting towel.

Chelly didn’t complain anymore about the accommodations. Before moving here, the company had a storefront space next door to a cleaner’s. The smells had made her nauseous, and parking had been a nightmare.

Eventually the company would have its own space, or money to rent something more suitable. For now they were fine, entrenched in the heart of the black community and pulling decent-sized houses, even if she counted the free tickets to the nursing home.

Gwen Harris, one of the actors playing a spa owner in the play, said something, but the loud tinkling on the piano made it difficult to hear.

“What did you say, Gwen?” Chelly yelled.

Gwen ambled over and sat next to Chelly. “Ms. Director, I’m not feeling your take on that last scene. When the football player gets his reservation mixed up, why is my character so angry, when in act two, she’s nearly drooling over him? Don’t we need to foreshadow her feelings?”

Gwen was her age, a big woman with a dark complexion. She called Chelly Ms. Director to make sure the hats were clear. All the cast did that because jobs rotated from production to production.

“Gwen, there may be an attraction, but it’s so subtle, your character doesn’t know it. She associates him with the guy who married her and dumped her after four months. His charm wins her over in act two, but she can’t know that when she first meets him. Make sense?”

“Yeah, I guess. It’ll have to, because we’ve only got eight more rehearsals.”

“That’s right.” They had a month before opening night and had increased rehearsal time accordingly. “Your character is merely infatuated, but acting as if you’re in love—is that pretty easy to do?”

“Well, that depends on your leading man, and, in some cases, how long the breath mints hold out.”

They laughed.

“What? You never had a part like that?” Gwen asked.

“No. Not on stage.” She hadn’t wanted to. “I’ve been a demented scientist, a bossy CEO, and a devoted schoolteacher before, but no romantic leads.” She hadn’t acted like a woman in love since her real-life role folded ten years ago. She wrote of love and around it, turning to humor rather than deal with love’s heavy and sticky elements on paper or in life.

“You know the drill,” Gwen said. “You draw from real life or as close to it as you can get. You’ve loved before.”

Chelly nodded. “Yes. A day doesn’t go by when I don’t think of Tony. I remember coming home to this wonderful expectation of having him to talk with. I couldn’t wait to share my day with him. The best thing was how when we’d had a horrible fight about something, I’d be so sure that was it and he was going to call it quits like my parents did, but he never left. Never threatened to leave. That kind of commitment surprised me over and over, and I loved him for that.”

“Then you know what love is like. You may be thinking too hard, analyzing it too much. It’s not a science.”

Chelly looked at her script margins where she’d scribbled some notes. “I was thinking love boils down to giving time, affection, and respect, but then that sounded like friendship.”

“Maybe it’s just plain giving of everything and expecting nothing in return.”

“Oh.” Chelly tapped the pen tip on her chin. “A selfless love. One with no expectations, only acceptance. Are human beings actually capable of that, and where’s the part about getting your needs met?”

Gwen laughed. “Sounds as if that’s the way Tony loved you. You’re right, though. Friendship creates the bond, but to be in a relationship where you’re the one giving all the time will never work.”

Love is the bond. Friendship is the bond. Maya had touched on that. “Tony and I had known each other five years before we married. We had some fierce disagreements at times, but we were pretty much on the same page about the big things. What happens when he says black, and you say white, and there’s just no meeting of the minds?”

Gwen started to say something, then paused and looked at Chelly with knowing eyes. “Are you in love again?”

Chelly gawked at Gwen like she had two heads.“What? Me? You think I’m in love?” She scoffed. “You know me better than that.”

“I see.” Gwen nodded as if to humor Chelly. “Well, when minds can’t meet, hearts have to. You give some, he gives some. It’s called compromise.”

People in love compromise. Imagine that. Chelly nervously cleared her throat, thinking compromise got her into this pretend-love pickle. Time for another topic. “You’re coming Saturday, right? To Kelvin’s?”

“Yes. Can’t wait. I must say, though, you look very happy, Chelly, And well rested.” She patted Chelly’s knee. “Could be the glow of a woman in love, but you didn’t hear that from me.”

Watching Gwen walk away, Chelly reminded herself to close her mouth. Obviously I’m a better actor than I give myself credit for.

* * *

Chelly’s mother had just arrived from Atlanta, but with only a couple of days to pull the party together, she asked to go straight to Kelvin’s from the airport. Chelly called ahead to make sure this was all right.

After waiting for a long minute for Kelvin to open the door, he greeted them by asking, “So, ladies, what time is this shindig on Saturday?”

Chelly thought Kelvin looked like a man in pain, but she respected his smile and his right to put up a front as long as he could. Her fingers fluttered across his cold ones. They walked hand in hand as far as the center hall. Kelvin directed the tour from there with tilts and nods of his head, a broad smile in place. His obvious pride in his new home had Chelly beaming.

“We decided on the way here to go with the open house concept, Kelvin, dear,” Brenda said, spectacular in her espresso suede jacket and gold pantsuit. She wore her white hair combed back, showing off high cheekbones and two-carat diamond studs.

“Brenda, I appreciate everything. But save the ‘dear’ crap. I’m not the retarded help.”

“Oh, Kelvin,” Brenda batted her mascara-laden lashes, “I’d never expect you to work at your own party.”

These two liked to bicker, so Chelly waited for Kelvin’s comeback.

He snorted. “Price men are anything but slow. Tell her, Chelly.”

Chelly had raved about Sean on the trip here from the airport, but had stopped short of telling Brenda she and Sean were lovers. It wasn’t a secret, but her mother would raise a cocked brow at the speed with which Chelly had moved. And, like any daughter, Chelly had to mete out how much of her mother’s criticism she faced on any given day.

Brenda turned to her, brows locked and loaded. “Yes, Chelly, tell me.”

Chelly chose not to answer either request, but shifted toward Kelvin. “People will be free to drop by anytime between two and six. Is that okay? I told people four when I called, but I’ll call again. We’ll party as long as we have guests or until you decide you need your rest.”

“Thanks, Chell,” Kelvin said. ”That will be fine.”

“When I phoned just now to ask if we could come over, you mentioned Sean was out?” Chelly asked.

“Yeah, said he’d be back in couple of hours.”

What errands did he have that could take two hours, Chelly silently inquired and then mentally slapped her hand. What Sean did and however long it took him to do it was Sean’s business, not hers. Refusing to fret over his whereabouts, she asked, “Don’t you love how Sean decorated, Mom?”

“Oh, yes! I’m impressed.” They’d seen the whole house and were back in the kitchen. “Your son is talented, Kelvin. I’m curious. How did he break the news to you he was gay?”

Chelly’s jaw dropped.

Kelvin chuckled, leaned across a kitchen counter, and shook his head as if suggesting Brenda was a few cards shy of a full deck.

“Come on, people. He cooks, he’s as neat as a pin,” Brenda said, glancing at the clean, uncluttered space around them. “He plays the piano and decorates. Hello? Am I the only one who watched that queer guy show?”

“Sean is not gay,” Kelvin and Chelly said in stereo.

Chelly knew this because she could feel how much Sean wanted her, and she’d felt it no fewer than seven times since Sunday. Still…didn’t Oprah do a show about men on the down low? Bisexual men who didn’t embrace “gay culture,” preferring to live in denial about their sexual proclivity?

Chelly shook her head, scrambling those thoughts out of existence. They reassembled as if magnetized. No way. Sean was open and kind and if he were bisexual, he would have come out and said so, wouldn’t he? Besides, sex with him was amazing. The way he made love to her, he knew a woman’s body…although…he did like to ask a lot of questions.

Brenda took off her jacket and draped it over the back of a kitchen chair. “Not gay, huh? Hmm. I’ll be able to tell by the way he’s dressed. I read about metrosexuals. Maybe he’s one of those.”

“What the hell is that?” Kelvin asked while Chelly tried to discern if Sean’s wardrobe was more Banana Republic than Sears.

“It’s a merging of the words metropolitan and heterosexual,” Chelly explained.

Kevin frowned. “What?”

“A metrosexual is a guy who is mistaken for being gay because of how he dresses and his other interests. How many pairs of sunglasses does he own?” Brenda asked, hands on her hips and eyes narrowed, zeroing in on the telltale clue.

“I haven’t seen him wear any,” Kelvin said, pushing away from the counter. “Brenda, get out of here with that mess. Sean David is not gay.”

Chelly resisted an urge to run to Sean’s bedroom and search for hidden hair care products. No, no, no. She’d run her hands through Sean’s hair a number of times, all of which could make her blush if she didn’t redirect her thoughts. Leave it to Brenda to cast her spell of negativity.

Brenda began opening kitchen cabinets. “The house is beautiful, Chelly. I hope you get a good price for it.” She laughed. “Get it? Get a good price when you already got a two-for-one ‘Price’ deal.”

* * *

Brenda excused herself to the bathroom, still laughing. Chelly found Kelvin in his chair, watching a playoff game. He migrated to baseball the way birds flew south.

“Who do we have money on this year, Kelvin? Which team?”

“Gotta go with St. Louis. Liked them since the days of Orlando Cepeda and Curt Flood. I was just a kid then, but that was baseball at its finest.”

Chelly sat on one of the new couches, savoring the plush comfort, before focusing on Kelvin. At the commercial she said, “You don’t look too hot.”

“Thanks for pointing that out.”

“I’m sorry. I know you feel shitty and I wasn’t going to mention it. I just want you as comfortable as you can be. What can I do?”

“Nothing.”

“How’s the bed working out?”

“It’s working out fine. How are you and Sean working out?”

She took a breath at Sean’s name, recalling how they had broken in Kelvin’s bed. Besides embarrassment,what troublesome, elusive feeling skirted the edge of her heart? Happiness? Yes, despite her mother’s sprinkling of dread, that was it. She bit her lower lip before answering. “We’re uh…finding our way.” The pretending to be in love bit was a little too strange to share, and she hadn’t quite gotten the hang of it.

“Which one of you is lost?” Kelvin asked.

“Me. Him. Both of us. There’s a powerful attraction, Kelvin, but Sean wants more.”

“What’s wrong with that?”

“First of all, he doesn’t know me. Saturday will be our two-week anniversary.”

“Straddling the fence is hard on the balls. I never had a problem knowing what I wanted. Sean’s the same way.”

Chelly chuckled, sure her eyes reflected enjoyment at Kelvin’s way with words. “Yeah, well, straddling the fence could be painful, but, even if he did know me, I can’t get that close to anybody again.”

“Because if you did?”

Her heart thundered. “It’s not possible. I don’t have it in me.”

“And you really believe that?”

“I absolutely believe that, Kelvin.”

He stretched thin hands toward her. “So you’ve decided the best part of your life is over. You’re marking time waiting to die. That’s how I feel. That’s what I’m doing.”

The stark similarity between Kelvin’s plan for living and her own caught Chelly off guard, rendering her helpless to do anything except stare at Kelvin, elbow perched on the arm of the couch, hand resting against her cheek. Living in the moment, siphoning what she could from superficial encounters with men had been her approach to living since Maya’s appearance had lulled her into putting one foot in front of the other and going on with life. Considering what had been taken away from her, she patted herself on the back for what life she had been able to salvage.

Kelvin’s perspective added a sobering spin. Maybe someone, one of her doctors, had phrased it as Kelvin had, but it wasn’t until this moment that she finally got it. By protecting herself from further hurt, she’d effectively disengaged from life. When you stop living, you begin to die by default.

“What did you say you were doing, Kelvin?” Brenda asked, obviously catching the tail end of their conversation. Carrying her coat, she joined them in the TV room.

Kelvin winked so only Chelly could see. Searching hard to get a grip on her thoughts, she absorbed the wink while lost in reverie. Could this mean that her mother’s soapbox rhetoric demanding she embrace life had merit after all? No way. The planets had to be out of alignment. And, even if they weren’t, Chelly bemoaned the fact that her heart was in no shape to give away to anyone.

“I’m going to ask a friend of mine, Minnie Eva, to bring some strawberry turnovers,” Kelvin said.

“Strawberries? You mean for the open house? They’re out of season now,” Brenda replied.

“My friend grows them and freezes them by the bagful.”

“Oh. Chelly, make sure we have her number.”

Chelly sat forward at the mention of her name and made a valiant effort to get back into the loop. “But it’s a good thing, right, Mother? Whatever she brings will be welcomed. I’m glad you have an appetite for something, Kelvin.”

Brenda cast a disapproving frown. “Of course. Whatever she brings will be fine. Do you think I was raised in a barn somewhere? Really, Chelly. Social etiquette is something I’m well versed in.”

Hmm. That’s debatable, Chelly thought.

“I hope the weather’s nice. If it is, we can put lawn chairs out back for the smokers.” Brenda pursed her lips. “Cigarette smoking is truly a disgusting habit.”

“But is it as disgusting as the bullshit some folks let come out of their mouths?” Kelvin asked between breaths, his expression serious.

Standing tall but looking rebuffed, Brenda adjusted her purse’s shoulder strap. “Let’s go, Chelly. I want to unpack and change. We’ll come back later.”

“Okay, sure.” Chelly shrugged and she and Kelvin exchanged a knowing glance. If Brenda didn’t state her opinion as fact, she wouldn’t be Brenda, but then again, Kelvin did the same thing. “We’ll be back,” Chelly added in her thickest Schwarzenegger accent.

Kelvin’s touch caused her to linger.

“Don’t shortchange yourself, Chell. I’m down to months, but you have years and years left. No matter what you do, or don’t do, time will move faster than Lou Brock stole home. Time is precious. Don’t waste it.”

She smiled and kissed his cheek. “Thanks, Kelvin.”

* * *

Chelly had barely pulled away from the curb when her mother shrieked, “My God!”

Chelly punched the brakes, throwing them forward until their seatbelts locked. She panicked, afraid she’d run over somebody’s pet or worse. “What’s wrong!”

“Oh, Chelly.” Brenda grabbed Chelly’s hand. “Kelvin has deteriorated so much since I saw him a couple of months ago. It’s an awful thing to see.”

Hurt stabbed Chelly’s heart. “I…I see him almost every day. The change has been gradual.” They sat a few seconds absorbing this truth before she resumed the short trip home.

“It’s so sad. It’s a lesson for all of us to make the most of the time we have,” Brenda said.

Chelly nodded. Apparently, she was about to get a second chance to learn this.

“I’m looking forward to meeting Sean,” Brenda said, illegally tapping into Chelly’s thoughts. Mothers were good at that.

She glanced at Brenda. “He’s looking forward to meeting you, too.”

“You’re sure he’s not gay?”

“I’m sure.”

The intensity of her mother’s gaze bore into the side of Chelly’s skull until she felt obliged to add, “I’m 100 percent sure, Mother.”

“What time are we going back tonight?” Brenda asked.

“Tonight? I have rehearsal tonight.”

“I want to meet him.”

“You’ll meet him tomorrow, if he’s free.” From all those various errands he had to run. The ones that took two hours. “If not, you’ll meet him on Saturday.”

“Saturday’s too late. It’ll have to be tomorrow, Chelly. We have to make final plans.”

“Tomorrow, then. I’ll arrange it.”

“Good.”