5
Sam
November
The pseudo-global-gourmet chain restaurant near our hotel in Cherry Hill was the only place open, and that alone made it the best port in this storm. It was surprisingly busy for a holiday dedicated to home cooking, and there was something profoundly sad about the assortment of lonely people seated at the bar. Mostly men, mostly middle-aged, all focused on the banks of televisions streaming college football games. They didn't notice me and Tiel, probably because we looked as lost and empty as they did.
There was a dry martini with extra olives lined up for Tiel, and I was staring into a gin and tonic. We hadn't said much since leaving her parents' suburban home, and we hadn't stopped touching each other. In the car, my hand was anchored on her thigh, a narrow attempt at keeping her grounded in the reality of us and away from the chaos of her family. We shared a long embrace while we waited for seats at the bar. My arm was tight around her shoulders now, and I had half a mind to haul her into my lap and promise it all away.
But there was no panacea. Nothing could wipe away the foul film of a parent's loathing, no matter how much liquor you threw at it.
I'd tried and quite roundly failed many times.
"That was probably more than you bargained for," Tiel said, her eyes still trained on her glass. She dropped her head to her hands, pressing her thumbs to her temples and rubbing. "I'mprobably more than you bargained for."
"Don't start with that, woman," I said. "If anything, we have more in common now."
I tugged her fingers away from her head and brought our hands together, aligning our coffee-stain birthmarks. Mine was a bit worse for the wear after my time in Maine, now shot through with a thin, pink scar from a slippery incident when cleaning some freshly caught fish in the rain.
Tiel's eyes slid in my direction, narrow and unconvinced as she frowned at our birthmarks.
"I told you they weren't going to appreciate the wine," she said.
"There's a difference between not appreciating the wine and your drunk cousin dumping half the bottle into a plastic cup and mixing it with pineapple juice. I felt that like a kick in the balls."
Tiel shifted to study me. "We're finding humor in this now? Really?"
"We're sure as shit not going to sit here and let any of that bring us down," I said, raising my glass and gesturing for her to follow. "To you and me, and our family, and hoping to hell that we don't fuck up our kids like our parents did us."
Our glasses clinked, we laughed, and for that moment, we smiled around the darkness of today's events.
"You pulled the dead mother card," Tiel said, peeking at me as she sipped her drink. "Didn't think I'd ever see you go there."
"The situation warranted it," I said. The server set a selection of appetizers between us. Tiel poked at the dishes, but didn't eat anything.
"Thank you," she whispered. "Thank you for saying those things about me and my work. I'm not sure what I expected but…but thank you."
"Of course," I said as I moved the plates around. Samosas and flatbread for Tiel, ahi carpaccio for me. "But tell me you know that everything they said was complete horseshit. The entire thing, from the second we walked in the door, was horseshit."
"You want to talk about horseshit? I'll give you horseshit. Agapi convinced my mother she needed to go on the pill when she was fifteen because it would clear up her skin," she said. "She had sex, like,all the time, before she got married. Witha millionguys! And yet I'm the slutbag. I was a freaking virgin until I went to college."
"Really? Me too."
Tiel shot me a surprised glance as she nibbled a samosa. "Youarea piece of something nice, though. That part wasn't horseshit."
"And I'm precious when I hold babies," I said.
"So precious. My ovaries are still turned up toboom."
I set my drink on the bar and slipped my hand under her skirt. "Can we capitalize on that?"
"Feed me cheesecake and tell me I'm pretty, and you can capitalize on anything you want," Tiel said with a watery, half-heated smile. "I hear you're indecent and disrespectful."
"That's how my fiancée likes it," I said, laughing, but the humor had left her eyes.
This time I did drag her into my lap. I held her close, my lips on her neck and my arms around her torso, and I wanted to absorb all her pain. Telling her it was horseshit and offering witty observations only went so far.
"Are you all right, Sunshine?"
