Toph's Empty Year - 21. Late June

I begged Gary for a recovery day. Sunday, the sixteenth, was the day after his party; the day after his parents surprised us both with Texas Boys. Those boys will now smile upon us every day from the living room wall. Last night in bed I had intensively grilled him, but Gary professed innocence. He had no idea how his parents knew the importance of the painting, which placed all our suspicions directly on Luke. Reflecting a bit, we realized he was the only one who had known my reluctance to part with it, and also had access to Gary’s parents, especially at the gallery where the painting was displayed.

“Do you really think there was a buyer representing him, or did your father do his own work?”

“Pops always does his own work. It’s why he’s married to the damn business. Let me promise you one thing, love. The day I take over, that’s all going to change. Hire the people you trust and then trust them to do the right job. I will not spend my life in that office.”

“Jesus!”

“What’s wrong?”

“I think this is the first time it’s sunk in that you’ll be running England one day.”

“Don’t worry. It’s still going to be me and it’s still going to be you; it’s still going to be us. Nothing will change.”

“I may hold you to that.”

“Please do. I’m serious!”

We usually did something special on Sundays, but I asked for a day to laze around the apartment. The activities of the previous week, from the horrible Abington interview through preparations for the party, left me running on empty. I needed to recharge. What Gary didn’t realize and, in truth neither had I, was the subtle impact my meeting with Teddy was having on me.

Even though it was not his intent, Teddy opened the wound which I had protected with a painstakingly crafted scab. That I had problems with my family, there was certainly no question. My actions on Labor Day would no doubt have been seen by a psychiatrist as a cry for help. Gary said as much when he recommended therapy to discover what was causing this abnormal fear I had of my own mother. So, exactly what was the enigma of my issues with the Dennys?

I spent the day in my studio, pretending to busy myself with tidying up paints and brushes, but was really deep in thought. I’m sure I’ve previously explained each sibling’s behavior toward me. Chester had basically ignored the fact I existed. Why was that? Should I pay a visit to Chesterworld, confronting him with this question? Should I have it out with my eldest brother, even though I’d never had a conversation with him?

Charles was next in age. What was it about Charles that made him different? He was ten years older than me and certainly never in my world. Siblings ten years apart can have nothing in common. However, Charles always connected with me in some obscure way, albeit from afar. Chester, on the other hand, was sixteen years older than me, which would have made me a baby while he was still living at home. Thinking about it in that way, I could sort of understand the lack of any connection between us – sort of.

After Charles, Clarissa was next at six years older than me. We did have a little connection in that many of her friends’ younger siblings were in my crowd. There was a difference though. Being that Clarissa was very strong-willed and the leader of her little pack made her the opposite of me. I was merely adopted by Nico’s followers. I could not remember any animosity between us. It only seemed she never understood me. Clarissa was the epitome of being Euphoric. She stood for all the false values I grew to detest, but I did not ever detest Clarissa. I felt sorry for her, probably in much the same way she felt sorry for me.

This, of course, bought me to Clarence, who stood three years older than me. I don’t know too much about child psychology, and so cannot suggest which difference in age causes the most trouble between siblings. I suppose if there had been only a one-year difference in our ages, we would have been more in league with each other as co-conspirators or something. After he contacted me and apologized, back when we were in Texas, Gary explained the middle child syndrome and suggested it might have been what caused his animosity towards me. Admittedly, Gary was only guessing, but at least it was a motive, the lack of which had previously confused me. And while Clarence was technically not the middle child, he did assume that role in the close grouping of Clarissa, him and me. This made me consider, back in Texas, all the times I returned his hostility with stinging asperity of my own. No doubt, one problem for Clarence was my being a part of Nico’s crowd. It placed me in a higher echelon than his bunch of drunken hell-raisers. I think the realization of all that, together with the information from Niles that Clarence was now going with Vivvy – one of my gang – led me to accept his apology so easily. I hate to hold grudges and I truly thought Clarence had a change of heart. Perhaps it was his college degree and future on Wall Street which gave him a new self-confidence. In fact, I think he mentioned something like that. And, in a way, he was right on another account. If we didn’t seize this opportunity, we would no doubt spend the rest of our lives resenting each other.

The fact I hadn’t heard from Clarence since that time was worrisome. I’m pretty sure he was pushed into the apology by Charles, and possibly even Vivvy, so had he thought better of it? Will I not hear from him until the wedding? Was my mother now somehow involved? I had always assumed he and Father were my enemies. Could I have been wrong? Thinking back over the things Father had said, he was always attempting to encourage me to improve myself, at least following his vision of what improvement meant. But when I told him I would take a gap year, he expressed his belief it would do no good, but never tried to stop me or threaten me in any way. In fact, thinking more clearly now, I realized he was never antagonistic with anything I did. The hostility at our dinner table always came from Clarence taking what Father said and turning it into a personal attack on me. What if Clarence had been taking orders from Mother? I know that sounds preposterous – even to me – but it would have given him the special notice from his mother he was previously lacking, if the middle child syndrome diagnosis were accurate.

That brought me to Mother. Was she using Clarence as her designated hitter? I knew she was manipulative, but could she have been so base as to use one son to attack another? To what profit? If Clarence, as the middle child, felt he never received individual attention from his mother, what about me? I didn’t either. It really wasn’t until I experienced the love and interaction between Gary and his parents that I realized how much I had been missing all my life.

To be honest, feeling a little guilty about what I did next – but not wanting Gary involved in any way – I quietly made a phone call.

“Toph? To what do I owe this pleasure?”

“I would like to meet with you, but only you, as soon as possible.”

“Is something wrong?”

“In a way, but it’s not as you might think. Debbie, I need your advice. I haven’t mentioned this to your son. It’s just between you and me.”

“Of course I’ll help in any way I can. Thursday I have a completely free afternoon. Is that good for you?”

“Yes, Thursday works perfectly.”

“Why don’t you come for lunch – say, twelve-thirty?”

And so, after obtaining her address, I was prepared to embark on my exploration into motherhood. With any luck and Moms’ insight, I believed Toph might begin to unravel the mystery of his mother.

Monday began the week I was sure would be significant to my life. I thought my meeting with Moms would do something. I wasn’t sure exactly what, but I was confident I would be nudged off letting things slide with respect to my family. I also knew I needed inspiration to create a painting with deep meaning for me. Now that I was pretty sure Abington was off the table, I felt myself suddenly freed to create works with internal meaning. The thought of developing a different style of painting was also tapping on my aesthetic window. However, before exploring anything new, I owed it to Naomi and myself to create something stirring.

I spent all day Monday and Tuesday at Naomi’s trying to absorb both her and her milieu. I knew the painting would be created in my home studio, but the inspiration needed to come from her place. Naomi explained how she came to possess her store. It seems her father purchased one of the buildings for her when she graduated college. She was firmly convinced that art was her future, and with her mother gone, she was Daddy’s little girl. He knew the retail art business would provide some income while allowing her to pursue her passion.

When he died, she inherited a bit of wealth and some other properties since there were no other relatives. She sold the properties, using a small portion of the proceeds to purchase the building next door. This became the studio which is attached to her shop. The remainder of the money was placed in safe investments, hoping to buy more nearby buildings. She still has that hope, although the buildings have not become available yet. Naomi’s dream is to create a Mecca for artists from all over the area right here in New Glory. She wants to expand both the store and studio, providing a home for a few other artist-teachers. She even had a coffee shop in her prospective plans if enough buildings became available. I also realized this telling of her tale was subtly different from the last, more abbreviated version, she told me a few month ago. At that time she was offering me the job to work for her. Which was the real story? I somehow thought this one was closer to what actually happened. Anyway, it made me wonder if I would be comfortable doing something like that in my future.

Gary had become suspicious. I believe I’ve explained how easily he can read me now. As Thursday’s lunch and meeting with Moms got closer, there must have been some signal I was giving off. Of course he was completely misreading it. I’m not sure exactly what he expected was going on, but he was now on another crusade to fill up all my time. Tuesday after tennis, I was introduced to a pair of guys at the club – Brian and Ethan, another couple, actually. We talked for a while between our set and theirs. Then we watched them play and ended up having dinner together at the club.

Don’t get me wrong, they appeared to be nice guys. Both were twenty-five and had the same kind of middle management job, but for different companies in the city. Brian was in manufacturing and Ethan was in magazine advertising. Gary downplayed his actual position, saying only that he was in management at England. I guess my art was more interesting to them than anything else because it took up a lot of the conversation, especially from Ethan. I let Gary get away with saying I’d be at Abington next year because, how could I do otherwise? I began to see I was digging myself into a hole with not telling him how badly I screwed up the interview. So the bottom line was we had new friends. New friends meant more activities to fill up my time. I briefly wondered if my boyfriend would ever get tired of feeling the necessity to care for me like I was some fragile little bloom. Would the day come when he couldn’t take it anymore? That thought scared me.

Wednesday after work found us at the gym. That was when Gary bluntly asked what was wrong. I promised to tell him when we got home. No way was I going to break down in front of everyone at the gym. At home I told him to wait until after dinner; Joanne and Anders did not need to witness it either. Joanne made a lovely roast with baked potatoes. It was the kind of comfort food I needed right about now, although I couldn’t eat very much.

We sat and talked for a while after dinner. I could sense my boyfriend getting more agitated. Finally, the time came when we could politely extricate ourselves. I sat on our bed as Gary closed the door. He sat closely, pulling me into him with the arm he had wrapped around my back.

“Talk to me, love.” With that, I melted, resting my head against his shoulder.

“I fucked-up my interview at Abington.”

“I’m sure you did fine.”

“No, you weren’t there. I was. I didn’t even understand half the questions they asked me.”

“That doesn’t mean anything. They were only trying to find out what you knew. They need to place you somewhere and you are an unknown quantity to them. They only knew you by your paintings. I cannot believe after they saw your work that they will do anything other than accept you. After all, you’ll bring honor to them.”

“That’s nice of you to say, but I have this gut feeling. I should probably think of another career choice.”

“Are you crazy? You love to paint!”

“Oh, I’ll paint. I can’t stop now. But it’ll have to become a hobby. That’s OK; I can live with it. Only I will disappoint so many people, especially you.”

That’s when I began to cry. Gary tightened his hold on my body and I think it made me cry even more, realizing at that moment I was placing my entire life into his hands. Was I actually that fragile little bloom? I knew if I were, he would eventually get tired of me – of having to tend to me. I prayed that my meeting with Moms would at least let me get my family on the road to being straightened out. Maybe this was the time to meet with Steve. If he told me what I did wrong, maybe I could prevent it from happening with Gary. I had never before enjoyed what I tasted with Gary, nor perceived the colors which surrounded his love. I did not want this to end, but it felt like I was putting too much onto him; I was going to push him away.

“Stop it!” Suddenly his voice broke through my worries.

“Huh?”

“Stop all that overthinking! I can hear your brain working away on all your bad contingencies. Relax, love. You have to learn to relax. Nothing bad is going to happen to you. Whatever comes about will come about, and we’ll move on from there. You never give yourself enough credit. You’re strong when you don’t wallow in self-doubt. I have total confidence in you.”

Well, of course he was right. I told you he reads me too well. I did have a tendency to worry about the worst case all the time. Maybe it was a defense mechanism. I tried to push everything out of my mind, except the hope Moms would be of some help tomorrow. I knew he could feel me relax. And, of course, he had other ways to relax me even more, which he used.

The next day, I couldn’t wait for morning to end! Gary tried to lift my spirits, promising we would play doubles with our new friends at the club and go out for dinner, maybe with them if they were available. Naomi related more of her past to me. Luke called and I promised him I would spend a lot of time at the gallery on Friday. Finally, it was noon and I headed for Gary’s parents’ home. It was in an old and comfortable part of the city, which I had expected. But the house wasn’t intimidating, which I hadn’t expected. Oscar’s was larger and had more grounds. This one was some type of Bungalow-styled structure, certainly expensive but definitely not ostentatious. One’s eye was met with lots of stone and wood, artfully designed to complement each other. A wide, but low, front porch gave it a welcoming look. It was made of flagstone pavers in some subtle pattern, and sat only one step up from the walkway. Even the rest of the neighborhood looked friendly. In a way, it comforted me to see that Gary didn’t grow up isolated in some castle.

During the drive over, I had been attempting to come up with a way to break the ice, to ask what I needed to ask. When the door opened, I still hadn’t arrived at a plan. That must have been apparent on my face.

“Toph. My God, what’s wrong?”

She pulled me in and into a hug.

And then I knew.

I had never in my life experienced a mother’s hug. The sting of that recognition, together with the sincerity and concern of her embrace, turned on the waterworks again. What was wrong with me? Why was I crying so much lately? I’d never cried before.

“Toph, whatever it is, it’ll be all right. Come in; sit by me and explain.”

We sat on a sofa where she remained close to me.

“I’m sorry I broke down like that. I came over to discuss my family and my mother in particular. When you hugged me so warmly, it occurred to me I had never been hugged like that – or at all – by my own mother.”

“I can’t believe that, Toph. Maybe you don’t remember?”

“You’re right, I don’t remember, and my memory is very good.”

“Were you raised by a nanny? That might explain not remembering, but I can’t believe you were never hugged.”

“We had a maid, Elizabeth. She was the only live-in help I can ever remember. I think she didn’t like me – I know she didn’t like me. And there you have it. It’s why I’m here. It’s been like no one in my family cared and some were even hostile toward me. I’m the youngest. Perhaps I was a mistake and that might explain it. I left them all last September when I was still nineteen. It was when I moved in with Gary and Anders. I don’t know why my family and I were on such bad terms. What I do know is, for some reason I seem to be afraid of my mother.”

“Have you had any contact with her since you left?”

“Not face-to-face. Did you know she was the head accountant at England? Gary became her boss in August when he took over. She complained about this ‘Garrett’ fellow once in conversation just before I left. I never made the connection though.”

“Really? I never knew she worked at England.”

“Gary never told you?”

“Oh, no, he would never reveal a confidence.”

“Actually, Gary sort of pieced together that she was my mother but never told me either. It was a big mistake, because when I found out he knew, it made me distrust him. I knew he was attracted to me and I sort of was to him, but that distrust was a deal breaker. I have to give him credit though; the poor guy waited me out. He tried a few more things to break the ice which was forming between us, but they made me even more suspicious. When I got my first boyfriend, Gary just bided his time. I’m sure he knew I was too damaged to bother with at that point. Actually, it might have been best we didn’t connect too early. By the way he always tries to help me out so much, I’ll bet I never would have learned to stand on my own.”

“You know, he used to cry on my shoulder last fall. He said you took everything he did the wrong way. I advised him to stop trying so hard. If it was to be, it couldn’t be forced; it would have to evolve on its own. I’m happy to see it did. But you have to trust one another. A strong relationship is sustained by mutual trust.”

“Then I just broke that trust. I didn’t tell Gary I was coming to see you about my mother. I don’t know why; there was really no good reason. He wouldn’t have tried to stop me and probably would have encouraged me. Of course, he would have insisted in coming with me, and I’m not sure I would have wanted that. You know, Mother appeared at the gallery at the end of May and I fled down to the river. I guess all my friends in New Glory were worried and couldn’t find me, but Gary figured out where I would be and came to support me – to have my back. That was the first time anyone ever did that for me. It made me love him even more. Do you think he’ll ever get tired of doing that? Will I push him away by needing him so much?”

“Oh, Toph, don’t worry about things like that. Gary has always had a good heart, maybe too good. You’ll never push him away by needing him. That’s the one thing I can assure you. But let’s talk about your mother a little.”

And we did. I explained about her ‘anonymous’ deposit into my account; the ‘warm’ invitation to Christmas dinner; Steve trying to push me to attend and then breaking up with me when I didn’t; Teddy’s revelation to Niles that she was somehow in contact with Steve; and finally her ‘I love you’ note with the subsequent materialization of Cordelia Denny at the gallery. I explained her impulse to manipulate events and even how Teddy fought back.

“But, Toph, none of that explains why you fear her. You have no need to fear her. You’ve established your own credentials and you have the full support of the one who loves you.” Then she hugged me again. “You also have the full backing of George and me. We can get quite protective of the one’s we love, and we love you too.”

She encouraged me to sleep on it, and didn’t press me to say anything further at lunch. I knew she would probably think it over too. I was certain we would meet again soon and revisit this fear of mine.

She was right. What did I have to fear? Mother could do me no harm.

What followed was a lovely lunch and afternoon visit. I was surprised by the size of house’s interior, which was pretty well hidden by the exterior design. By the end of our talk I was calling her ‘Moms.’ She even volunteered to visit my mother and act as an envoy between us. I told her I would consider her offer, but needed to discuss it with Gary first. In fact, I needed to discuss all of this with Gary. Everything he had done for me warranted my complete trust.

After my time with Moms, I felt lighter. Gary and I did play tennis with Brian and Ethan and even went out to a little place for dinner. I was able to enjoy myself without that Sword of Damocles hanging over me. I also could see that having this couple as friends would be good for us. When we returned home, I fessed-up to my secret meeting with Moms and apologized to Gary for not telling him first. And do you know what? He wasn’t upset at all. He acted as though it was something he would expect of me. That he would believe so, almost made me angry – with myself.

I spent all day Friday with Luke at the gallery. During a conversation, I asked him if my mother had said anything. Luke said she was very impressed with my work and told him she was proud of me. I didn’t quite know what to make of that, so I filed away her praise for future reference. Beginning Saturday, I spent the next week actually writing on the Texas Boys’ story. A series of short chapters was emerging, one for each day that took place in the tale. There was no writing on Sunday, of course. Sunday had become our day for brunch and then a short trip somewhere. Sunday had grown into our little ‘us’ day. The weather was warm so we made the hour-long trip to a nearby lake and got in some early-season sunbathing by the water’s edge. It never did me any good though; I was so fair that no matter what chemical I slathered on, my skin always ended up trying to match my red hair. The only color I got was from my freckles, which became even more pronounced.

Over the course of the week, when I wasn’t pretending to be an author, I split my time learning more about Naomi and keeping Luke company at the gallery. Mid-week, Gary surprised me by suggesting our Maine sailing vacation should be early in July.

“Actual sailing on a sailboat I can climb all over?”

He chuckled. “Yes, this is a small one Dad keeps harbored for the short vacations he never takes anymore. I’ve spent a lot of time on that boat. You’ll love her.”

“This will be next week?”

“Probably toward the end of the week. It’ll give us the weekend and a few days beyond to be away from everything.”

The more I thought about it, the more I realized his timing should have been no great surprise. My boyfriend was doing everything in his power to keep his fragile little bloom’s mind off Clarissa’s wedding. Speaking of weddings, Saturday was Big Joe and Jo’s affair.

That, in itself, was a great diversion for me. Over the course of these last nine months, Big Joe has become a very good friend. While we only see each other at Happy’s a few times a week, we’ve grown quite close. The few times I’ve met Jo has made me appreciate her too. Perhaps they will become another couple we’ll be close to. I shouldn’t forget Joanne and Anders who, after all, were our first.

At the reception, we were at a table with Betty, Abigail, Naomi and a couple who were friends with Jo. That was nice because in conversation with them I got a little more insight into the girl I could tell was a firecracker from the moment I first met her. Big Joe will have his hands full, but will also acquire an invaluable partner in what promises to be a difficult time ahead. With respect to that, Gary and I spent some time with Joe Cucire, major ^[1]. He told Big Joe he’d be with him at his wedding, and he was. His dad was putting on a brave front, but we could see the handwriting on the wall, as could he. We also met Mrs. Cucire, Big Joe’s mother. She was sweet and proud of her son, and I’m sure of her husband as well.

Sunday we returned to the park by the river and discussed my mother and my family. We spent much of the time there on that task. Gary asked me to review everything again, which was becoming a tedious routine for me.

“Toph, it just doesn’t make any sense. I realize there are deranged individuals out there. You know, a father may sense a son is ‘weak’ or too ‘feminine’ for his own fragile ego, so he beats that boy but never harms any other of his children. The siblings might even go along with it and pick on the poor kid too. Do you think it was something like that? You told me they knew you were gay. Could that be at the root of it? Instead of physically beating you, considering their station in life, did they chose to mentally abuse you? The only thing that doesn’t fit that scenario is your mother. A mother might or might not go along with a father, but I can’t imagine a mother ever being the one to initiate such behavior.”

“No, that can’t possibly be it. I’ve been thinking a lot about this lately too. My father always tried to guide me toward what he considered the way things should be, for example, going to an exclusive school. But he never tried to stop me from my own decisions. It was Clarence turning those arguments into attacks that made me lump him and my father together. My mother never joined Clarence during those sessions. I knew how manipulative she was with everyone else but I never felt it with me, until I left. That makes me think she might have been urging Clarence, behind the scenes. I have not a shred of evidence and didn’t even think of it until a few months ago when I found out she had somehow contacted Steve, before he broke up with me. If she influenced Clarence, she could have influenced Steve.”

“And she wouldn’t even try to influence me because she realizes she can’t.”

“The money she deposited was an attempt to control me. She should have known money didn’t mean anything to me but what about Steve? His family has no money. He’s working at Pettibone’s store with no chance to go to college. How would a big chunk of change influence him?”

“Toph, don’t you think it’s time to contact Steve?”

“I’ve been thinking about that too.”

Gary got a funny look on his face.

“What?”

“Love, you’ll make me so much happier if you don’t go off thinking on your own so much. Sometimes it’s better to bounce stuff off another person. It helps prevent your mind running away to some awful conclusions.”

And so June drew to a close with the prospect of an incredibly complicated July. I realized that looming ahead of me were Maine, Steve, Mother, Moms, Moms and Mother, Abington’s decision, Clarissa’s wedding and my family being all together for the first time since Labor Day.

That will prove to be a challenging month for this fragile little bloom.

[1]  OK. I was advised to use “major” instead of “maior” which I originally wrote. It is a Latin honorific, meaning ‘The Elder.’ The problem is the letter J. And I think it looks silly calling him “major” because that brings to mind a military rank. It should be MAIOR. I’m not shouting, just writing it in Latin.

Then too, when I wrote that letter j, I involuntarily flinched, expecting Magister’s ruler across my knuckles.