Over Exposure
27
Life
“Yvonne” by Belovodchenko Anton, ID1039789792 licensed from Shutterstock.com
“I DON’T KNOW what Kat would do without me,” Dad said. “It’s not like I do that much for her, except love her as my daughter, but it’s your mother that worries me. Sometimes she gets a little too caught up in herself and her position in the community. She’s constantly worried about what people would think if they knew Kat was dating a girl, or that we were going to let her go off to Minnesota before she’s even eighteen. Your mother can be pretty absolute in her opinions and without me to help temper them and shield Kat from them, I just don’t know.”
“Dad, the doctors say it will all be fine. You’ll have a little snip and they’ll cut out the growth, then a couple of days later you’ll be eating like a normal person again,” I said. “There’s no need to borrow trouble from the future. It will be a long time before any of us need to worry about you not being here.”
“Oh, son. In our teens and twenties, we all think we are immortal. There comes a time when we realize how fragile life is. I might survive the surgery tomorrow. Probably. But there’s no guarantee that I’ll ever be able to hold up my end of the bargain again. You need to watch out for your sister. Calm your mother down when she’s ready to fly off the handle. Be ready to balance things if I’m not able to. Please, don’t run away like Naomi did. Stay part of the family.”
“Dad, you know I’m committed to the family. Not just you and Mom and Kat, but Naomi and Deborah, too. You have to know I also have my own family to take care of. Patricia and Toni, yes, but also Ronda and Anna. We’ll always be having to make compromises and there’s always a chance we can’t be where we’re needed at the moment,” I said. “Ronda and Anna are really upset that they can’t be here this week. It isn’t because they don’t want to be with the family. Naomi can’t be here because she’s in Germany. It isn’t because she doesn’t want to be with the family.”
“You and Naomi—you had different fathers. I don’t mean literally different biological fathers. I mean I became a different man before you were born. As much as I wanted to convince Naomi of that, I never could. Deborah, she accepted that I’m different, but she never forgot what I was. How could they? I just want to be a good father.”
“I think you’re the best, Dad. I also think that if that nurse comes by to shoo me out one more time, I’m likely to be banned from coming back. You get a good night’s rest. We’ll all be here in the morning.”
“Goodnight, son.”
Patricia and Kat stayed home with the three kids Tuesday morning while Mom, Deborah, and I went to the hospital. There wasn’t much we could do for Dad. He was already in prep for surgery when we got there. Mom got to see him before they put him out. Deb and I were mostly there to support Mom.
The surgeon came out about two hours later.
“The surgery was a success,” he said. “We were able to resection the bowel, so he won’t have a drainage bag. He’ll need to stay here a couple of days while we make sure things don’t come apart, and then he’ll be on limited activity and a soft diet for the next two weeks. We’ll check him again then and make sure everything is tight. Biggest danger in a surgery like this is peritonitis if there is any perforation. I’m pretty sure he’ll have a clean bill of health in a few days.”
“So, you got it all?” I asked. My vast knowledge of cancer was limited to hearing that it spreads.
“There’s a small spot on the liver, but it won’t be hurting anything. People live with that kind of thing for years all the time. We got the cancer we went after and that’s all that was necessary,” the doctor said. I didn’t much like him. He took Mom back to the recovery room and said Deb and I would be able to visit when he was moved to a room.
“Deb, was Dad really different when you were a child?” I asked. She looked at me as if debating what she was going to say for a minute.
“He mellowed out a lot after you were born. Maybe a little before. He was always good to me. Firstborn privilege, you know? Naomi had it harder.”
“He said something about that last night. Said he just wanted to be a good father,” I said.
“He keeps working on it,” Deb answered. “It doesn’t pay to think about it too much. Leave old pain behind. There’s plenty of new pain to deal with.”
“Are things okay?” I asked. “I mean with you and John?”
“Yeah. Hard. But okay. He keeps talking about signing up again as soon as he gets a degree. Go in as an officer. It’s… um… Nate, I’m so sorry your Tony didn’t make it back. But not all of John came back either. He sometimes wakes up in the middle of the night in tremors. Has even screamed and pushed me out of bed. ‘To protect me.’ It’s hard.”
“Why would he want to go back into the army after all that?”
“He really thrived on the structure. He always knew what he needed to do. He’s working at that amateur electronics store as a manager, but it seems like he’s lost most of the time. He’s not good at creating his own structure. He’s good at following orders.”
“I’m sorry to hear that, Deb. I hope he can find the right job and structure. He’s taking classes, right?”
“Yes. Night classes, which means he’s not home any more than he was when he was in the army. And then…” She just stopped. I waited a few seconds before I prompted her.
“And then what, Deb?”
“I discovered he was taking classes and talking about his degree, but the classes he took weren’t helping him get a degree. They were just random things that interested him at the moment. I had to sit down with him and ask him what degree he planned to get. Then I went through the school catalog and even visited a counselor there to find out what classes he should take. Me! Visiting a college counselor. I felt remarkably out of place. But eventually, I got an actual course program outlined for him and just told him what he had to enroll in each term. I have to ask him each day if he’s done his homework, and I even read what he’s written and correct it. I’m getting a glimpse of what it will be like when Cameron is in school. I’m acting as John’s mommy.”
“I’m so sorry, Deb. I guess nobody survives in that war.”
We rotated sitting with Dad the rest of the day until we were all told to go home at seven. We took shifts the next day so Kat and Patricia could see him, too. He was still pretty out of it, but by Thursday he was sitting up in bed and talking some. We played some cribbage, but he didn’t concentrate well enough to play well.
Nonetheless, they let him come home on Friday, but he wasn’t supposed to do anything more strenuous than move from bed to the bathroom for a week.
That was another problem. He said he always felt like he had to go poop, but the doctors told him that was a psychological thing because there was nothing in his bowels yet. Except gas. He passed some god-awful gas. Even Toni ran out of the room once yelling “Grampa’s stinky!”
Ronda and Anna were at the house on Friday to meet us when we got home. Deb had to take her two kids and head back to East St. Louis so she could take care of her husband. I told Dad we’d all come back for a night next weekend, then Sunday afternoon, my family drove back to Chicago. I was more exhausted than if I’d been in school and working all week.
At least I was ready for class Monday morning. I’d had plenty of time to read To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee. I’d never seen the movie before. It was staggering. We were assigned to meet with our small group during the week and prepare a larger class discussion for the next Monday.
In our Media and Social Justice class on Tuesday, Professor Argento held up the newest issue of LOOK magazine. I bit my lip, knowing that I would be published in that magazine next month!
“We’ll have a look at LOOK today,” he quipped. “LOOK is one of the two great magazines of the past generation that we can credit for the beginning of photojournalism: LOOK and LIFE. The two magazines emerged from the Great Depression, LIFE in November 1936, just three months before LOOK in February 1937. Both magazines published photos of news and special interest with stories often told in captions. In today’s issue of LOOK, Allen Drury’s apology for Richard Nixon with photos by Fred Maroon, is not really the most significant thing about this issue. Nor is the article on the declining power of the Vatican. You might be more interested in the sometimes-amusing article about Tom Baker as Rasputin in the film Nicholas and Alexandra, or the photo essay about Peggy Lee. But what is most significant about this issue is Mike Cowles’ announcement that this is the final issue of the magazine.”
“What?” I shouted. “I… but… final?”
“I doubt the world will greet the news with such shocked consternation as you, Mr. Hart. But perhaps it should. You see this marks the demise of a significant medium that people have depended on for forty years. It and its counterpart LIFE, have brought the realities of social issues into people’s homes in a way they could not ignore” Argento continued.
“According to Cowles, the magazine has experienced falling revenue that is in direct proportion to the rise of television in our country. Nearly every home has a television and some today are even color! And they bring the evening news into people’s homes, not weekly, but nightly.”
I was still stuck back on the idea that this was the last issue of LOOK magazine—the magazine my photos were supposed to appear in next week. How could people ever trust the television more than print to bring them the news? What was going to happen to our drive to get Fran nominated for an award?
I barely made it through class, let alone meeting with Leslie, Leanne, Carrie, and Dora for our study group. I rushed home and went straight to the phone.
“Adrienne! They’ve quit publishing LOOK!” I shouted when she picked up the phone.
“My poor master,” she said. “I heard. Our sponsor called me to talk to you. Our project is now closed, he said.”
“Well, can’t we submit the photo story to LIFE? They publish almost the same thing.”
“We don’t own the rights. This was essentially a work for hire. The magazine owns all rights, even though it isn’t publishing any longer. They might, one day, run the story in one of the company’s other publications, or it could just languish in their archives forever.”
“Can’t our sponsor do something? He could pay them to print another issue.”
“Nate, master, please. Even our sponsor realizes that he is rich, but he is not God. He discussed buying the magazine, but the business simply isn’t there. He’s setting aside the drive to get Fran nominated this year and will hope the next movie gives her the boost she needs in her career. But this is closed.”
“Damn it! I’m sorry, Adrienne. I know this isn’t your fault, but it is so damned frustrating. Does Fran know?” I asked.
“Honey, Fran doesn’t even know the photos were for the magazine. We did retain a certain number of the photos that we can use for promoting her and the movie, but they aren’t enough to launch a major article or campaign,” Adrienne said.
“Well, that’s all pretty disappointing, but I guess there’s nothing I can do about it. Is there anything else I should know about in LA?”
“The production company won’t be ready to start filming until spring. They might ask you to come out again before then, but the reports are that scripting is now progressing. If you would like me to come to Chicago so you can punish me for the loss of the LOOK assignment, I can be on the next plane.”
“Oh, my dear Fifi. I cannot punish you for things that are beyond your control. I will have to think up another reason!”
“Whatever would please you, master,” she said.
“It would very much please me, and your mistresses, to have you come to Chicago, but things are a little tense here at the moment. My dad had cancer surgery this past week and we’re headed back to visit again this weekend.”
“If you will be in town, I could come for a long weekend, say the first weekend of November. That would be clear of your family holiday on Thanksgiving,” she said. She sounded hopeful that I would ask her to visit. Or maybe it was my ears that were hopeful.
“Why don’t we plan on that, Fifi. I’ll need to talk to the family, but I’m sure it will work out.”
“I can call Miss Anna to work on details,” Fifi volunteered. Definitely hopeful!
“Why don’t you do that. Whatever she decides comes from me as well.”
“Oh, thank you, master.”
“Fifi, I want to hold you in my arms. It has already been too long.”
“How I long for you, master.”
I met with my Literature on Film breakout group on Thursday afternoon. We were agreed that the film did a reasonable job of converting the book to a different medium and started identifying things that we missed or that we thought were extraneous. There were five of us in the discussion group and we put together what we considered would be our contribution to the discussion the next Monday. I kept what Dr. Stewart had told me about staying involved, so I was careful to participate, even volunteering to keep the notes for the discussion. That way, I wasn’t dominating the conversation in my effort to participate.
When we were seniors in high school, Ronda took time to point out that she felt she and Christine controlled the conversation when we were all together and might have run over some of my opinions because they were excited about something. When we became five and then six in our family—seven when Toni was born—we realized it was even more important for us to make sure each person in the family had a voice. We’d actually had some practice sessions where we all had to participate equally.
Of course, then Christine left us and we all talked about our feelings and how it would affect the family. We were all unsure of whether we’d stay together as a family. Then when I broke up with Elizabeth—and we all realized that she was only my girlfriend and not a girlfriend of the other three—we had some additional conversations that proved to make the family stronger and to integrate our love for Adrienne.
I say all that to get around to the point of participating in a discussion without dominating it. And since my discussion group was four women and me, I felt responsible for both participating and not dominating. And not letting one or all of the women dominate the conversation. We discovered we had different perceptions of the characters in the movie and that included whether the main character was actually Scout or her father, Atticus. It was interesting that in the book it was a lot clearer than it was in the movie and I did manage to explain the predominantly male-dominated industry in California.
Friday morning, after Ronda’s last class, we headed back to Sage to visit my dad. He was feeling much better and was up and moving around. He was still on a diet of soft foods, about which he complained to anyone who would listen.
“Why don’t they consider donuts a soft food?” he complained. “What’s softer than cake? No. Not according to the doctor. It’s pudding and jello and baby food. I’m beginning to feel like a damned baby.”
When he was feeling that cantankerous, we all assumed he was definitely getting better. We had a good weekend and Toni pronounced Grampa to not be stinky anymore. We headed back to town on Sunday afternoon and promised to be back for Thanksgiving weekend.
Mom was given strict orders to call us if there were any changes in Dad’s condition. Then I had a quiet conversation with Kat to make sure she called me immediately if Mom didn’t.
Adrienne got to town on Thursday the fourth. I went straight from my Literature on Film discussion group to the hotel where I knew she’d be checked in. I found Anna already there and Adrienne naked on her knees—eating my girlfriend.
“Oh God! I needed that!” Anna screeched. I was just laughing at the two of them.
Then both of them attacked me and in a minute, I was naked and sprawled on the bed while Anna rode my face to another orgasm and Fifi got to bounce up and down on my cock.
That set the tempo for a weekend of debauchery as Anna, Ronda, Patricia, and I rotated in and out of Adrienne’s room and in and out of Adrienne. Saturday night, I found myself taking care of Toni as the four girls went out for a massive playdate. I was surprised, though, when I woke up with Toni in the morning and none of them were back home yet. They’d all collapsed on Adrienne’s bed and spent the night.
Oh, well. I got the rest of Sunday with our mistress and blessed whatever powers brought her into our lives when my cock sank into her warm and welcoming bottom. I just stayed with her for the night Sunday and after breakfast in the morning, I walked over to my Literature on Film class to watch Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf? I remembered Mom and Dad going out with the district ministers to see the film soon after we moved to Tenbrook. It was a big discussion group thing for the ministers in counseling married couples.
I sincerely hoped that my girlfriends and I didn’t develop the kind of dangerous game-playing that went on in that movie. It was an interesting discussion, though, in that this was based on an Edward Albee play. Other than Shakespeare, I don’t think I’d ever read a play script before—except reading some lines for Elizabeth when she did Streetcar. The discussion focused on minor changes that were required by the MPAA. Elizabeth Taylor had said that saying “Screw you!” was considered too vulgar and the line was changed to “God damn you!” because that wasn’t as profane. We questioned whether control of this sort was a manipulation of social justice.
On Friday the twelfth, I had a most welcome client. Yvonne Renninger, my former business teacher Miss Sullivan, was at the studio at ten. I decided I could manage this session alone and didn’t have an assistant in the studio.
“Yvonne, it’s great to see you again,” I greeted her.
“You, too, Nate. I’m so glad they’ve begun giving teachers prep days four times a year. With no school today, I decided it was time to advance my portfolio,” she said. She welcomed my embrace and kissed me passionately.
“Wow! That is quite a greeting,” I said.
“And there’s much more where that came from,” she said seductively. “It is time to start working on my coming out photographs.”
“Coming out?” I asked.
“In less than a year, our five-year moratorium on releasing my photos will end. Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten that you can publish any photo you’ve taken of me next fall,” she said.
“Yvonne, you know I wouldn’t do anything to hurt you or your reputation. I’ll hold those photos forever if you want,” I said. She kissed me again.
“That’s very kind of you, Nate, but it isn’t what I want. I want you to release them. In fact, I intend to display them myself. This is my last year teaching.”
“Last year? Are you unhappy with your career?” I asked.
“No. But it isn’t my career. I’ve shown you many of my yoga poses. You know better than anyone what condition my body is in. I’ve just turned thirty years old, and I assure you my body is as tight and fit as it was in college. Probably more so. I hope you enjoy it,” she laughed.
She hadn’t moved away from our greeting hug and pulled one of my hands up to caress her breast as we kissed again.
“Teaching was never supposed to be my career. I got a degree in business in order to prepare myself for my own business. My second major was in physical training. I was quite an athlete in college, which may have contributed to my being a wild thing. Now it is time for me to leave the teaching and start my own business. I have amassed enough capital to open my own fitness studio here in Chicago. It will be for women only.”
“I’ve heard of that. There’s a women’s fitness program Patricia mentioned. I forget the woman’s name.”
“Nothing like what I intend to pursue,” Yvonne said. “I have been to those fitness centers as I did my research. They are focused entirely on female vanity—which I admit is a powerful motivator. Mine is focused on good health and female strength. I will work with three major techniques, all of which I have studied extensively and in which I have certifications. The first is yoga. The second is Pilates. The third is the Feldenkrais Method. With these three tools in my arsenal, I believe I can significantly improve any woman’s health, which will also improve her looks and her outlook on life.”
“Wow! That is cool. I’m sure my girlfriends will want to try it out.”
“Well, when they come to my studio, they will find that I have been secretly seeing you for several years,” she whispered again. She kissed me again and then pushed away. “Today, I want to start working on the poster sized photos that I’ll post in my studio. I intend to promote my work with my body.”
“That will be a compelling promotion,” I said. “Let’s get started on what you want for your great coming out.”
Yvonne wanted a series of photos that would show her in her guise as a teacher, a business person, and a trainer. But she also wanted me to show her as a true artist’s model, fully but artistically displayed in the nude.
That part was the most fun. After working most of the morning on the clothed part of her project, we went out for a quick bite to eat, then came back to the artistic portion of her photoshoot. That meant getting to take the clothes off Yvonne. She was right. She had a fine body, especially for a thirty-year-old.
I guess I was used to working with actresses who were all beautiful on stage or on screen. But that beauty was often cosmetic. I mean, the use of makeup. In her daily life, Yvonne used makeup to tone down her good looks. For her photos, she was wearing minimal cosmetics. It was really her own good looks that were on display.
We decided not to do any bedroom shots. Yvonne performed much better in action shots and they were more appropriate for her intended use. We did some work with fabric—basically gauze—wrapped around her and I got a couple of good shots. She came up with an idea and rushed to the darkroom to dampen the gauze. Wow! Seeing that transparent fabric molded right to her skin was something. She did some more yoga poses and some poses from what she called the Feldenkrais Method. The method used movement and stretches to align the skeleton and strengthen the muscles. She even got me to try one or two.
Then she wanted something that had more of an Attic Allure feeling to it and I went hunting in the props closet to see what I could come up with. I found a lighted crescent moon that had once been used for a store window display, I think. I saw immediately what I could do with it and ran out to get it hung. Working with Yvonne naked beside me was distracting and we allowed ourselves to get distracted more than once. Then I pulled my trusty cube out and positioned Yvonne on it with the lit moon behind her against a black background.
One of the great things about Yvonne’s shoot, in my mind, was that she wasn’t interested in color pictures at all. Everything we shot was black and white, and I was able to use some very slow speed film in the 4x5. The texture of her skin was so fine that I was sure I’d captured it perfectly. The pose was superb.
It showed her body, her face, her muscles, and yet, it didn’t really show anything she couldn’t put in the window of her studio.
We wrapped up shooting about three o’clock.
“I’m going straight to the darkroom to get these developed,” I said when I carried her off our little stage area to the couch in the dressing area.
Her kisses had become something considerably more passionate as she invited my hands and my mouth all over her body.
“A darkroom sounds perfect. Mind if I join you?” she asked.
Would I mind spending time in the darkroom with a naked Yvonne? You’ve got to be kidding.
I managed to get my system set up so we were processing and proofing and still had time for kissing and petting. It got pretty intense and I started losing my clothes.
“You’ve never been naked with me,” Yvonne whispered as she stroked my cock. “Please tell me we aren’t in the studio anymore. You can’t begin to imagine how much I want you right now.”
“The feeling is mutual, Yvonne. In all the times I’ve photographed you, I’ve never seen you looking more desirable.”
“Do you have condoms in here?”
“Yes. But I need to move this print first.”
I shifted the print to fixative and turned to find Yvonne with one foot up on the sink, arms open to welcome me. That was a position I’d never seen before, but it wasn’t difficult to figure out what to do. I slid smoothly into my former teacher and found out what an athletic body could do with her internal muscles. The force of my orgasm almost knocked me out while standing connected to her.
We slowed down a little and as I finished the proof sheets, I made sure Yvonne had plenty of pleasure and fulfillment. Before I’d finished printing, I’d come in her again.
Wednesday, I cut my costuming class and took Patricia to the studio for her annual birthday photos. Over the years, she had become even more lush than she’d been as a teenager. Her figure was outstanding, and I knew she worked at getting her shape back after the baby. And talk about a photo session that had as much kissing and touching as it did taking photos! Patricia was truly my lover and I loved her.
“We don’t have any color photos of you,” I said. “I’d like to try one.”
“I don’t know what you’d see in color that you can’t see in black and white, but if that’s what you want, I’m okay with it,” she said. “Oh! What about the photo of me dressed as an elf we took in Stratford?”
“Well, yes. We have that photo, but you can’t really tell it’s even you. I want one of you. And I think our girlfriends would want one, too.”
“Okay. If it’s good, can we send one to Adrienne, too?” Patricia surprised me by asking.
“Sure! You’ve certainly gotten closer to Adrienne.”
“It’s different between us than between her and Ronda or Anna. I mean, Anna became the family dominatrix and Adrienne absolutely worships her. Ronda just loves sex with Adrienne and I think she gets things from her she’s afraid to even ask from Anna or me. You know, in spite of us loving each other and having sex with each other, Anna and I are still mostly heterosexual and have sex with each other or Ronda just to show how much we love each other. We don’t find it disgusting or anything, but it’s not something we crave like Ronda does.”
“And you and Adrienne?” I asked as I brought her a silk shawl. It was red with gold embroidery and so thin I could see right through it. I don’t know how Cassie finds all these things.
“Um… Adrienne is like a beautiful doll that I like to hold and play with. And she’s that to Toni, too. She lets us pick out clothes for her to wear and ‘do her hair.’ Toni wants ‘ippick,’ as she calls lipstick and Adrienne has carefully applied it for her and then showed her how to blot it off. Believe me, Toni never leaves the room with the stuff still on her, but she sees Anna, Ronda, and me all putting on lipstick and mascara each day. It’s only natural that she wants to try it, too.”
“Do you all wear makeup every day? I can’t believe I’ve gotten so accustomed to it that I don’t even notice you are wearing it.” I moved her position so she was three-quarters away from me and looking back. I had her hold the shawl up between her breasts so they weren’t the focus of the picture, but I draped it so it hung below her butt and I could see the entire extent of her bare back and bottom with her light blonde hair hanging down below her shoulder blades.
“Yes. And you’re not supposed to notice, so don’t say anything, okay?” Patricia giggled. “After we’ve put Toni to bed, Adrienne and I spend a lot of time talking and cuddling. I’ve told her all about Tony and how lucky I was to have you and Ronda and Anna to hold me together after he died. Sometimes, we’ve cried together. And sometimes, we just pet and comfort each other. I find myself irresistibly drawn to her breasts as if I were just a baby and want to suck on them. She’s happy to let me and then I find she’s been petting mine and has a hand between my legs just making me feel so loved and turned on. I didn’t think we’d ever be lovers like that when she joined our little circle. But sometimes when we’re together, I just can’t wait to put my face between her legs and hear her moan my name as she comes.”
“Wow! You know what telling me all that has done to me?”
“Do you have something that could fill the empty space in my body?” she teased. I finished taking the photos and bagged the carriers.
“As long as the empty space isn’t, like, your tummy, I think I could fill all of you.”
“Do it, Nate. Fill me. Love me and fill me to overflowing.”
I did. I turned out the studio lights and laid my sweetheart on the bed where I filled her until we’d both come and held each other tightly.
“Nate,” she whispered in the afterglow of our lovemaking, “what would you think about us having a baby?”
“Honey, if you want a baby one day, I will happily put one in you. I’m so happy to have you as my mate,” I said.
“I don’t mean ‘one day.’ I was thinking we could celebrate you graduating from school by starting a new member of our family,” she said.
“You mean in six months? We’d have a baby in 1973? You really want to do that with me?”
“Oh, honey, I love Little Toni more than I ever imagined a person could love another. I never thought of myself as being the breeder in our family, but I think even Ronda and Anna would like a new little one in our household.”
“Speaking of which, that’s not really a decision the two of us should make without consulting with our other wives,” I said. “You know that even if we have children, I’m not leaving Anna and Ronda.”
“Or Adrienne. I know. I would be horrified to think that you would. I wouldn’t dream of even marrying you unless we could all marry together. But this baby would definitely have your last name. Our own little Nate or Natalie Hart.”
There wasn’t much more to be said about the subject. We made love again, just to practice.
The next week was the typical chaos of a holiday week. We had only two days of classes and then were off for Thanksgiving. We headed out to Tenbrook for the holiday on Wednesday. This was one of those occasions when I dropped my girlfriends off at their individual homes and drove down to Sage by myself. We’d be making the rounds of all the families this week, but decided to take the first day with our own families.
Deborah and John with their two kids were at the house when I arrived. It was good to see my sister and brother-in-law. Cameron was in school now and Anthony was only a year behind Toni.
“Where’s my cousin?” Cameron demanded as soon as I walked in.
I gave her a hug and explained that she was visiting her other gramma and grampa and would be here tomorrow. She grudgingly accepted that as an excuse.
“Well, I’m glad you’re here,” Deborah sighed. “We need to get Thanksgiving dinner prepped for tomorrow.”
“We?” I asked.
“Well, Dad isn’t up to cooking yet,” she explained. “Mom in the kitchen has always been hopeless. Kat was in a panic and went out with her friend Julie. That leaves you and me, bud.”
“Well, I cook pretty regularly, but I’ve never done a whole turkey,” I said. “What do we need to do?”
“You can follow a recipe, can’t you?”
“Sure.”
“Fine, here’s the recipe for breakfast. If you can get this ready, and in the refrigerator, I can prep the turkey and dressing.”
“Baked Praline French Toast?” I asked, looking at the ancient recipe card. There were so many cooking stains on it that it was hard to read.
“It’s a recipe from Grandma Mayer, according to Mom. I had to go shopping first thing this morning to make sure we had everything for dinner. I was just lucky they still had a fresh turkey and not all frozen ones.”
“Deborah,” I said quietly, “is there something you aren’t telling me?”
“Things around the house aren’t exactly in tiptop shape,” she said. “I was kind of hoping your girlfriends would come with you and help clean the house. Mom is still in her professional mode as the working person. But Dad kind of checked out when he was recovering from the surgery and hasn’t really gotten back in the caretaker mode. Kat’s been picking up a lot of the pieces, but she’s sixteen. She has school work and friends and I think she has a boyfriend. She won’t answer questions about it.”
“Okay. We’ll get breakfast and the turkey ready. I’ll call Anna and ask her to rally the troops. We’ll clean in the morning. Do we have the ingredients for pumpkin pie?”
“Um… Yeah. I just kind of threw everything I could think of in the shopping cart this morning. Uh… If you could help pay for some of it, I’d appreciate it. I kind of overspent my grocery allowance for the month.”
“Oh, geez, Deborah! Of course I’ll pay for it. Just tell me how much. When Kat gets home, I’ll talk to her and she’ll fix pumpkin pie. Patricia will help get the rest of Thanksgiving dinner ready. Are Uncle Nate and Aunt Grace coming?”
“Oh, crap! I forgot. Do you think this turkey is big enough?”
“Nobody ever goes hungry at Thanksgiving dinner. Maybe there won’t be leftovers. What are Dad and John doing?”
“They have my kids. I think ‘taking care of them’ would be too strong a statement. But Mom’s with them. I think she got all five of them into some kind of game the little ones can play.”
“Hey, sister. We’ll make it work,” I said as I started to slice the French bread for the toast.
And ultimately, things worked out. Kat wasn’t out late. When she got back, she apologized to Deb for having run off.
“Life’s kind of been a little overwhelming lately,” she said. “I feel like I’m doing all the cooking and cleaning and I’m not doing a very good job of it. Please tell me it will get better.”
“It will, hon,” I said. “Facing an illness like this isn’t just about the disease. It wrecks people emotionally and mentally. We’ll get things back on track. Thank you for doing everything you have for Mom and Dad. It sucks that you’re the only one home and feel like you have to take care of them. You’re still a kid. They should be taking care of you.”
“Shh. Don’t say I’m just a kid. It’s the only excuse Mom would need to tell me I can’t go to Minneapolis next fall.”
“I’ll make sure you get that opportunity,” I said. “One way or another. Now what’s this I hear about you having a boyfriend?”
“Mom started it,” Kat sighed. “She still can’t face the idea that Julie and I are more than just friends. So, she started telling Deb that I have a boyfriend that I spend a lot of time with. I mean, we don’t really even have that much time. It’s not like we even go out every weekend. And I miss her.”
“I know what you mean. Well, maybe it’s better that Deb thinks it’s a boyfriend. Maybe she’ll just pass it off as typical teenage stuff and let it go at that. If she asks, tell her your friend’s name is Jules. You call her that sometimes. In the meantime, prepare to bake pumpkin pie in the morning. I think Deb and I have most everything else under control.”
“Thanks, Nate. You really are the best big dork a girl could have.”
Thanksgiving morning, we scrambled around getting in each other’s way more than not. Ronda had borrowed her dad’s car to bring Patricia, Anna, and Toni down to Sage. Patricia immediately went to work in the kitchen peeling potatoes, getting candied yams ready, making sure the vegetables were cooked appropriately, and opening the cans of cranberry sauce.
Anna and Ronda grabbed the vacuum cleaner and the bathroom brushes and set to work on the house. I made the praline topping for the French toast and got it in the oven before anything else, which highlighted the fact that Kat and Deborah both needed to put things in the oven, too. And at different temperatures.
It made no difference. We just kept getting in each other’s way and laughing about it. Of course, before we could set the table for dinner, all the dirty dishes from breakfast and cooking had to be washed and we got a production line going on that. When it looked like everything was under control and the food could cook on its own for a while, we cleared out of the kitchen and Anna attacked the floor with a mop. Patricia and I set the table while Kat and Deborah went to make sure the children weren’t being fed sweets or eating things they found on the floor. They were all watching the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade.
Uncle Nate and Aunt Grace got in and Grace dove into helping in the kitchen. And by two o’clock, we had a turkey that seemed to be cooked through—according to the wiggle test on the legs—and stuffing that was really savory. The potatoes, yams, vegetables, and cranberry sauce were served, and I managed to get a big pot of coffee made before we served Kat’s pumpkin pie with whipped cream. That had been my last task. I got the beater and whipped a pint of heavy cream until it was all froth, and we scooped a generous helping of it onto each slice of pie.
From that point, it was pretty much a quiet afternoon. There was no showing of my portfolio since Uncle Nate had been to the studio to look at the newest material just a week ago. He was continuing to find interesting models who wanted their photos taken and referring them to the studio for appointments. I was getting one or two a week, and most were paying customers, not just release models.
Kat showed us some of her latest work and it left all of us pretty speechless with admiration.
Speaking of Uncle Nate, though, I saw him pull John outside to go for a walk. I’d had a few minutes to talk with my brother-in-law the night before and he had a haunted look about him. All through the meal today, he hadn’t been able to look at Patricia. He blamed himself for getting her husband killed.
“Nate, it just keeps getting worse. I thought a little time would be all I’d need and I’d get over it. But I don’t sleep much. Every time I close my eyes, I see the jungle. I hear my guys screaming. I feel TJ’s body fall on me. I’ve been talking to the recruiter. I can go back in with my rank as a technical specialist. I’ve learned a lot in the area of electronics and communication. I think they’ll give me what I need. Just, please don’t think ill of me for joining up again.”
“John, do what’s right for you. I won’t think badly of you. Our choices are personal. I don’t expect others to do what I do. I don’t judge. You might want to talk to Uncle Nate when he gets here. You have a lot in common, I think.”
And that’s what I saw going on. It was almost like there was a transfer that went between them. John came back with a livelier step and Uncle Nate looked haunted.
Rather than stay in the overcrowded house, the girls and I left. I checked in at the hotel in Tenbrook and all five of us stayed there. We’d have Thanksgiving with the other families over the rest of the weekend.
Please feel free to send comments to the author at devon@devonlayne.com.
