The moment tipped on them all, but Craig Ralston righted it with “You mean if I knew which fork to use, I could have a girlfriend?”
“You can’t have a girlfriend,” Marci said, standing. “But you can help me with the pies.”
In the kitchen she quickly set out platters of pie and topped some with ice cream as Craig held it all on a tray. With him standing before her like that, she pointed the ice cream scoop at his face. “You want a girlfriend?” It came out as she knew it might: serious, awkward. Not even a joke. What was she saying? But it felt good to say, scratching some spot within that she didn’t even know was sore.
“Oh, yeah,” Craig said. “Then I want to take her to a dinner party where you glare at me all night long. No thanks, one woman is plenty.”
As he spoke, she looked into his face, knowing her secret was open to be read. She could not control her expression. It was a moment like she’d never had before; she could feel Stewart’s hands. His face had been right there, his breath, and he had said, “Oh my, you are so fine.” Her heart was beating. If she spoke again, one life would end, this life, and she wanted trouble like that—she wanted everything out and said.
“Marci,” Craig said, indicating the tray and nodding at the corner piece of pie, “put another scoop on that one for me, will ya? You’re hoarding the ice cream.”
When she did that and he went back into the other room, Marci stood still until ice cream dripped from the scoop onto the hardwood floor.
In the den, pie ruled. Plates of it balanced on knees and in hands, floated over all the other dinner wreckage.
“This is Kathleen’s pie,” Frank said. “No question about that.”
“Both are,” Marci came in. “We’ll have tea in a minute.”
“Can I have some tea, Nurse Kathleen?”
“You’re asking me after you chugged that beer? You can have some decaf.”
“Yes, you can,” Marci said. “How are you feeling?”
Jimmy was eating the moist pumpkin pie with a spoon. “I’ll be no help with the dishes.”
“That’s what they use me for,” Larry said.
“What did your partner do?” Frank asked Jimmy Brand.
“He ran a restaurant downtown, and he wrote freelance travel pieces,” Jimmy said.
“An upscale place?” Frank said. “Nineteen-dollar martinis?”
“Sixteen,” Jimmy Brand said. “Yeah, it was pricey. You needed reservations a week out.”
“Just like the Antlers,” Frank said. “How’d you meet him?”
“Jimmy met him at a big party at a famous playwright’s apartment. They met in the kitchen.” Mason said.
“Mason’s done his homework,” Jimmy said. He’d finished half his pie, and he handed the plate to Larry, who stacked it on one of the impossible dish mountains. “I met Daniel at an opening-night party many years ago.” He smiled in the soft light. “It was as weird as anything I’ve known. I’d been in the city for a while, and it was strong stuff. For me. Anything you wanted—right there.” Marci leaned over and set a cup and saucer in Jimmy’s hand, and he sipped the tea. “And it wasn’t weird to be gay. I mean, for the first time in a long time, I felt normal. Imagine. I loved it, but I didn’t think I’d fall in love. There was a lot of hooking up, and I thought the random energy was enough.
“But Daniel changed it all. With the restaurant, he was the center of a lot of stuff, and this party was about him as impresario as much as anything. People wanted to be with Daniel, and who was I? Sometimes,” he said to Larry, “it’s like you never got out of high school. Anyway, at the party he told me to follow him into the kitchen, and I did. There was like a group headed that way, and after I got in the door . . .” Jimmy Brand paused and set his cup and saucer onto his leg with both hands. “He put his hand on the door and shut it, you know, with his hand straight out.” Jimmy extended his arm. “He was strong, and he just held the door shut, and these people were bumping the door, like knocking. I could feel it, the door bumping against me. And he kissed me there. It was this kiss where he held the door shut and kissed me there. No big sexual kiss, just the finest kiss you get, a true kiss, the door absolutely thumping. When we stopped kissing, he looked at me and said, ‘Do you understand?’ And I saw his eyes, a look you don’t forget, and I understood.” Jimmy Brand said to Frank, “That’s what we do. Sorry for the speech.”