Chapter 27
‘Swingers!’ I say after I storm through the front door of Plant Daddy and march directly toward my mother, who is with Kai carefully examining some leafy plant in a macramé hanger.
‘Shhh,’ my mother says, swatting her hand at me. As I get closer I see that Kai has a speaker hanging on the side of his wheelchair and my mother is adjusting the volume. Familiar classical music streams toward the plants in front of them.
‘We’re playing Vivaldi for the heartleaf philodendron,’ Kai says. The music swells and comes to an end. They both stare at the plant. I think they are expecting it to applaud. Poor Kai. He was a perfectly normal person before she started working here. Grumpy but sane. Now he’s smiling at customers and playing classical music to plants.
‘Why are you doing that? Was this her idea?’
‘No, mine. I’ve always wanted to try this,’ Kai says and I can tell he is a bit protective of her. My mother needs about as much protection as a bear in the woods. ‘Research shows that it can help open the stomata on the plant.’
‘That’s where the plant breathes. Tiny holes that allow oxygen in,’ my mother says, and she holds up her fingers, indicating the size. Kai looks over at her and smiles.
‘Fascinating,’ I say, my sarcasm volume at an eleven. ‘Mother, can I speak with you for a minute?’
‘You’ll have to wait for my break,’ she says.
‘It’s fine Glory. Go ahead. It’s slow. I was thinking of trying out some disco on the monstera plant in the corner.’ He fiddles with the speaker and then his phone before ‘Stayin’ Alive’ by the Bee Gees starts playing. He heads toward the large potted plant on the other side of the cafe.
‘Did you get my text?’ she asks as she uses a spray bottle to wipe the leaves of a plant.
‘That’s exactly why I’m here. Swingers? No way. I looked it up. I was hoping it was something other than what I thought it was, but it was exactly what I was scared of.’
She puts down her spray bottle. ‘I had to pull a few strings to get you both in. It’s a very popular place but luckily Pierre was easily swayed by some free lattes and my usual charm. Soon you and that very handsome young man will be swinging. That’s the deal.’
I hate that she calls him ‘that very handsome young man’. I am painfully aware of how attractive he is.
‘Mom, I’m not about to risk my life and dangle from a trapeze just because I made some deal with you almost twenty years ago.’ I swallow hard and try to imagine it. I can’t. There is no way.
‘Swingers has an excellent safety record for circus arts. I spoke to a very nice young woman at the Better Business Bureau, and I told her that my son has a teeny-tiny fear of anything involving the circus and all that kind of stuff. She assured me that there have been very few reports of people falling off the trapeze and breaking their neck or getting tangled in the net and losing an arm or a leg. It’s very rare. Sam, it’s time.’
‘Time for what? Bodily injury?’ I have always been terrified of any kind of aerial acrobatics. When I was a kid, we went to the circus for a class trip – the trapeze and the high wire terrified me. The clowns running around in oversized shoes and sloppy make-up didn’t help either. The thought of falling into some bouncy net from high up makes my knees shake.
‘A deal is a deal and it’s time you got over your fear. You can do it. I know you can.’ The bell above the door rings and a small group of customers line up at the register. ‘I have to go help Kai. I’ll text you both everything you need to know. And don’t worry about the trapeze. It’ll be fun. You need to be fearless on your dates,’ she says.
‘Is that one of your rules?’ I ask calling after her, hoping she can hear my eyes rolling in my tone.
‘It’s one of them,’ she says and walks to the line of customers. But when she gets there she turns and shouts back to me, ‘Maybe, just to be safe, wear two pairs of underwear in case you have an accident. Love you!’ She steps behind the counter, and Damola, who for once is not wearing his headphones, just stares at me. I cover my face with my hand and walk out.
I start walking down the street and notice a black car with tinted windows following me. At first, I think I’m being paranoid, but each time I turn back, the car is right at my heels. When I get to the end of the block, I stop, and the car stops, too. The tinted back window rolls down, and it’s Paul.
I run over to the car. I can’t believe it.
‘What are you doing here? And why are you following me? Is everything okay?’ I rattle off the questions.
‘I wanted to wait until you were safely away from the cafe and any prying eyes. I think I saw your mother in there.’
‘But what are you doing here?’ I bend down to make sure he’s alone and not with a business associate. ‘Did I mess up the dates of a visit or something?’ I would absolutely have written down a visit from Paul. No way I would forget it. He claims I’m a scatterbrain but I’m not.
‘Drove in to take my guy to lunch. I booked a flight with a long layover. Just enough time to drive in from JFK and take you out before I head on my way to London for two days.’ His charming smile oozes with charisma. ‘Let’s go.’ He opens the door for me.
I hop in the car and push my head into his shoulder to cuddle but he retreats just enough to remind me how uncomfortable he is with any public displays of affection. Paul is very out but from a generation where two men simply did not ever do that kind of thing in public and I’ve had to get used to that. I’m always aware of my surroundings, but I’m also comfortable showing affection toward the person I’m with, no matter the gender.
The car flies down the West Side Highway and we enter the maze of short streets and pencil skyscrapers that make up the financial district. Paul says, ‘I made a reservation at your favorite restaurant,’ as the car pulls up to Delmonico’s – his favorite restaurant. It’s a well-known steakhouse frequented by bankers and lawyers with stuffy, over-done decor and meat squeezed into every conceivable menu item. Not my style at all but I know Paul enjoys walking through the dining room and nodding to legal counsel from other firms.
But when we arrive, I remember they are one of the last restaurants in New York to have a strict dress code. ‘Paul, I’m not really dressed for this.’ I’m wearing a pair of light green cords and a thermal I threw on this morning. Way too casual for this place. ‘Maybe somewhere else?’
‘I’ll take care of it,’ he says and we walk in. We head to the coat check where I see Paul slip the attendant some cash. He looks me up and down before heading to the back and returning with a navy sports jacket. ‘Problem solved,’ Paul says as he holds open the jacket. I feel like a little kid getting dressed for his first formal event. I’ve often felt this way with Paul, like he’s taking care of me by teaching me how to do something or giving me advice, but usually it makes me feel safe and taken care of. I’m not feeling all of that this afternoon. I’m thinking about being in Liberty Island with Finn and how he treats me like a peer, someone who has something to contribute. But that makes me anxious, too, because then I feel like I should contribute something. Being with Paul doesn’t have that kind of pressure at least.
I push my arms through the jacket and face the full-length mirror next to the coat check. The jacket is way too big for me in the shoulders but too short in the sleeves. Still, it’s enough to get us to a table so I follow Paul to a private booth in the corner.
‘Are you able to come back to my place after lunch? I could sneak you up somehow and we could…’ I trail off. I don’t want to be too explicit.
‘I wish. I go right from here back to JFK and you know what the traffic can be like on the Belt Parkway in the afternoon.’
‘Oh.’ I look down at the table. So much of our relationship in the past was made of brief snippets of time. I was hoping that with this new chapter, I wouldn’t have to settle for the interstitial moments sandwiched into the rest of his life.
‘But I’ll be back in a few weeks. We’re still on for Thanksgiving?’
‘Absolutely,’ I say although I’m not entirely sure how I’m going to pull it off. My plan was to reintroduce him to my mother after demonstrating that her plan has been a complete failure.
‘You think your mother is ready to meet me? How will she handle the news about us moving in together?’ I want to say, The same way Patti LuPone handles people using their cell phones while she’s performing. But I don’t.
‘Leave that to me,’ is all I say. I push the thought out of my head as the waiter arrives to take our order. Paul orders his usual steak rare and I search for something on the menu that won’t sink to the bottom of my stomach like the Titanic. The Cobb salad here has so much bacon on it they should list it as bacon with a garnish of lettuce; still, I order it with plans to edit the meal when it arrives.
‘I’ve got a surprise for you,’ Paul says pulling out his tablet. ‘I thought we would redecorate the entire apartment before you move in. Top to bottom. I’ve even asked a landscape designer to give the terrace new trees and plants. But I want to make sure you like everything. It’s going to be our place.’
The very idea of moving in with him to ‘our place’ makes me feel wonderful. This is the Paul I cried over for all those months when we were broken up. This is the Paul I want to be with. He scrolls through the different options for kitchen cabinets, shower fixtures and antique rugs. He even has a few paint chips and fabric swatches in his bag. We discuss and debate each option in great detail and the conversation is easy. Unlike talking with Finn. The intense conversation at the statue the other day creeps into my thoughts and I shut it out along with my concern about how much all this redecorating is going to cost. I just want to enjoy my time with Paul and not let the details get in the way.
Lunch is quicker than I would like, but he doesn’t want to miss his flight back to London; the little leather folder with the check arrives, and the waiter hands it to Paul without hesitation. I guess that sort of thing happens when you show up to the table in a rental jacket. Paul almost always paid in the past, and I’m sure he thinks that’s how things will go in the future, but I don’t want that. Even half of the bill will make a serious dent in my monthly credit card payment this month. I don’t have a ton of income coming in at the moment to be able to afford surprise splurges like this. Once I get the full-time job at Brands this won’t be as much of an issue. I’ll have more cash flow so I hope I’ll be able to hold my own. I reach in my pocket for my wallet and Paul stops me.
‘I’ve got this, Sammy,’ he says and places his heavy high-end credit card on the folio.
‘Let’s split it,’ I say and I take out the credit card I think has the most room on it.
‘Don’t be silly. I’ve got this. I invited you to lunch,’ Paul says. He thinks I’m just making a show of pretending to pay but I want him to understand that is not the case.
‘I insist,’ I say and look him firmly in the eye and put down my cheap plastic alumni credit union card next to his. The waiter splits the bill and we both sign but I triple my gratuity because I know Paul is such a lousy tipper.
‘Well, then,’ he says and he nods his head. ‘I hate that we don’t get more time together but I can’t miss my flight. I snagged the last business class seat.’ He looks around the corner of the dining room where we are tucked away and then leans over to give me a quick peck. ‘I’ll call you,’ he says and I watch his elegant frame exit through the dining room.
I take a few moments to finish my coffee and brush my fingers over the fabric samples Paul left for me. I’m deeply focused on a plush forest green swatch and the image of cozying up together on a new couch in front of a resurfaced fireplace when the server returns. ‘Sir, thank you for the generous gratuity but…’ He looks down at the ground. ‘I’m afraid this amount was declined. Do you have another card? Or perhaps I can put the difference on your friend’s card?’
‘No, don’t do that,’ I say quickly. My daydream fades and I shake my head to help adjust to the reality of the moment. I start shuffling through my wallet to find the right combination of credit, cash, and desperation to pay my half of the bill.