What's Mine and Yours(102)
And yet, despite their triumphs, the audience never quite laughed when they were supposed to; the emotions the actors meant to convey were never quite the ones that came through. Isabella’s horror at Angelo’s predation came across as mild annoyance; the duke’s pomposity seemed to be rage; only Angelo’s lust was clearly expressed, which made the parents fidget in their seats. The final slew of betrothals at the end left the crowd puzzled, and they clapped half-heartedly as they tried to sort out what had happened, whether all was well. No one was very good, and they knew it, but it didn’t matter. For two brief hours, they melded together, the kids who had been at Central before, and the ones who were new. At the end, they linked arms and bowed, and Mr. Riley handed out roses, two for Noelle. And Noelle and Nelson had climbed down from the stage to greet their families, Linette in the front row, Lacey May and Hank with the girls. Jade and Robbie were nowhere to be seen, and they held hands and presented themselves for the first time as a unit: Nelson and Noelle.
“I was lucky to have you love me then, despite all my problems.”
“Please,” Noelle said. “I was the one getting drunk and knocked up and running away.”
“At least you knew who you were. I couldn’t stand being me.”
“You’re fine, you know. You always have been. But you still can’t see it, can you?”
She unglued her cheek from his, stared at him plainly. Nelson felt his skin thrum; he was desperate for her to say more.
“I’m sorry,” she said, shaking her head, her eyes glistening. “I can’t make you know. It isn’t my job anymore.”
She kissed the palm of his hand and then returned to her daughter. Nelson wanted to follow her, the urge so strong he nearly did. Alone on the dance floor, he finally felt himself drunk, his body listing, a searing pressure in his eyes and skull. Adira steadied him in her arms. She steered him beyond the barn, its hardwood floors. His shoes sank into the mud. They crested the pasture in the darkness, headed for the lot.
“Where can I drop you off?” she asked.
His hotel was near the airport, but he knew where he needed Adira to take him.
“I have to see her,” he said. “Take me to see her.”
The new house where Jade lived wasn’t far from the main street. It was brick, two stories, the screened-in porch obscured by a massive rhododendron. The neighborhood was quiet, surreptitiously wealthy. An elementary school and its playground was on one side of the street, a stone Baptist church on the other, oaks and dogwoods in the front lawns, a large park at the end of the road, all hills and towering magnolias. It was the kind of neighborhood where the university professors bought their homes years ago, and where the new tech workers were just moving in. He had only ever driven through this part of the city before.
Adira parked neatly in front of the house, and he invited her in.
“No, thank you. I don’t want to be a party to that conversation. But before you go, Gee, please . . .” She handed him a tin of mints and waved a tiny can of air freshener. He worked the lid open and swallowed a handful while she sprayed him down.
He thanked Adira, hugged her hard. He watched her drive away, headed for Raleigh. He found himself trembling, terrified to see his own mother. It had been years.
Jade startled when she opened the door. He watched her face shift from disbelief to suspicion, then a smile that seemed wary, questioning. She wore a long black robe, her hair braided and twisted into a crown. León appeared behind her in the threshold in checkered pajama pants and a matching robe. It was almost too intimate to see them side by side, dressed for bed, but he shouldn’t have expected anything different. Nelson looked down at his shoes, his vision blurry, and he wondered whether they could notice him wobbling on his feet.
He followed them into the house. The kitchen was all hardwood and blue tile, brightly colored paintings on the wall. A black cat weaved between their legs, leapt onto the windowsill. He hadn’t known his mother had a cat; he’d never known her to care for animals.
León made tea and kept up the small talk. He asked about the wedding once Nelson explained why he was in town. He asked about Vienna, his latest residency. He complained about his own work at the hospital, said Jade was the one really making a difference at the clinic. She’d been elected to the board of a statewide reproductive rights group. León filled the silence, and Nelson and Jade sipped their tea, avoided looking at one another.
Nelson wondered whether his mother was angry with him. He’d never visited her in this house, although he knew the address from the occasional mail, her Christmas cards. He called her every once in a while, whenever he had good news, and they’d gloss over the last several months of their lives in a few minutes. We bought a house; I’m traveling to Paris; the book is coming out in hardcover. He had told her about the divorce matter-of-factly, long after Noelle had served him with papers. He hadn’t mentioned it again, and she hadn’t asked.
But Jade’s face betrayed nothing, not elation, or rage. He wanted to hear her say she was upset he’d traveled across the ocean for the Venturas and not for her. He wanted her to say he had been wrong to give his whole life to Noelle and then betray her. But she went on sipping her tea, leaning close to her lover.
León mentioned that they’d gone to see Linette recently at the nursing home. She didn’t recognize Jade anymore, but they still went to bring her flowers and take her for walks.