Old Ties, page 6
“Please,” Romaine said, taking the beer. “Cleo, I’m not doing well. I don’t know what to do. I miss you. I know I treated you bad. I treated Cynthia bad. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I feel so disconnected.”
Cleo looked right at her. “Romaine, you’re selfish. You think only of what you want and not how the consequences of your actions will affect other people, especially the ones stupid enough to love you.”
Romaine burst into tears. In twenty years Cleo had seen her cry only three times.
Cleo came over to hold her. “Shhh, don’t cry. I didn’t mean to be so harsh.”
“You’re right. That’s how I am. I’m a miserable bitch.”
Cleo sat on the stool next to her, took her hand. “C’mon, it can’t be that bad. You need to spend some time alone and think about what you’re doing. Do you really want to let her go?”
Romaine took a drink of beer. “I don’t know. I feel as if I’m losing you, and it’s driving me crazy. I don’t want to lose you, Puddle.”
Cleo looked at her, sadness in her eyes.
“Then why do you leave me?”
“I don’t know.”
“You love me best when you’re not with me. Shouldn’t that tell you something?”
“Like what?”
“You desire what you don’t possess. Romaine, you’ll never find happiness that way.”
“Are you happy?”
Cleo took a moment to think. “Yes, I am. For the first time in a long while, I’m happy.”
“It’s because of her, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” Cleo said, looking out the kitchen window.
“You love her, don’t you?” Romaine said, tears building in her dark eyes. “You do don’t you?”
Cleo wiped her tears away. “I love you, have always loved you, will love you until the day I die, but I can’t keep waiting. I can’t keep hoping that one day you’ll stop hurting me. I love Frankie, and I’d like to try being with her.”
Romaine sobbed in Cleo’s arms.
Cleo was surprised. “Why are you so upset? You’re the one who left me. Remember?”
Romaine looked up, teary eyed. “That doesn’t mean I ever stopped loving you.”
Cleo got them both another beer. “You are unbelievable. What makes you think you can yank me around like a rag doll that you can put away when you finish throwing it around the room?”
“I don’t think that,” Romaine pleaded.
“That’s how you act. I finally have a chance to find happiness, fidelity, someone to get old with, and now you’ve realized you made a mistake. It’s too late, Romaine. You should have thought of this years ago before you went off fucking other people.”
“I didn’t know you’d fall in love. You never do.”
“No, I always wait. This time, I’m not going to.”
“Cleo, don’t do this!”
“Do what? Do what you always do to me? Romaine, has it ever occurred to you what it was like finding out that you were sleeping around on me? How do you think it felt when I found you and that blond bimbo in bed, in our bed? What do you think that did to my heart? Every time you cheated on me, you chipped away at a little more of my love. Don’t be surprised if I don’t fall in love with you again. Lord knows, I’ve done it enough times. This time, I’m the one who’s leaving,” Cleo said, walking out of the house.
Cleo was halfway across town before she realized she was in her bathrobe and that she’d walked out of her own house.
Romaine was astounded. She left quickly, locking herself in her studio, answering the door to no one.
* * *
Frankie opened the front door.
“I know about the underwear thing, but are you moving into a new phase? Bathrobes and, it appears, nothing underneath. You could get arrested for that,” Frankie teased.
Cleo didn’t smile.
“Come inside. What’s wrong?” Frankie asked, alerted to the crisis.
“Nice bathrobe,” Ella called out from her recliner, looking up from the sports section.
“Thank you,” Cleo said.
“What’s wrong?”
Cleo sat at the kitchen table.
“Romaine came over. She’s upset because she thinks I’m in love with you, and now she wants me back. She’s afraid she’s losing me.”
Frankie sat quiet for a minute.
“Is she losing you?”
“She lost me a long time ago. But I never had a reason to leave before.”
“And now you do?”
Cleo’s face got red. “Do I look incompetent? Do I look so stupid that I’m incapable of love? Is it impossible that I might love you? I give up! I don’t understand any of you!” Cleo said, marching from the room and letting the screen door slam behind her. Frankie was the second woman in a half an hour that she had left dumbstruck.
Ella came into the room.
“What was that about?”
“I think she loves me,” Frankie said quietly.
“Is that how she usually shows it? Comes marching across town in her robe, screams at you, and then leaves?”
“I don’t know.”
“Do you love her?”
“Yes, I love her. I love her to the point of obsession.”
“Then what are you doing sitting here? Go after her,” Ella said, smiling.
Frankie flew from the room. She caught up with Cleo on Elm Street.
“Cleo wait! I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” Frankie pleaded.
Cleo had calmed down and was feeling sheepish. She hadn’t meant to be so harsh.
She took Frankie in her arms and held her. They were both shaking. She looked deep into her eyes. “I love you,” Cleo said.
“I’m glad,” Frankie said.
“Can we go back to your house? I’m afraid Romaine will be at mine.”
“Sure,” Frankie said, taking her hand and leading her home.
“Can I borrow some clothes? I really do feel ridiculous in my robe. Eccentrics the town will tolerate, nutcases they do not,” Cleo said, pulling her robe in tight.
Frankie had never seen Cleo in clothes; neither had Ella. She looked good in a pair of jeans and a shirt.
“Do you have any regular clothes?” Ella asked her, over their sloe gin fizzes. They were sitting on the porch.
“Not really. Haven’t bought any for years. But these aren’t so bad. I might have to get me some new duds.”
Chapter Thirteen
Cleo didn’t mean to hurt Romaine when she went shopping and bought new ensembles. She was finished with her underwear phase. That was all. But the clothes episode sent Romaine around the bend. Romaine saw it as betrayal. And she held Frankie accountable.
“What’s the deal with the clothes anyway?” Romaine asked, eating a radish she had neatly plucked from the salad bowl.
“I simply felt like a change,” Cleo responded, stuffing manicotti noodles for dinner.
“Is she coming over for dinner?”
“If by she you mean Frankie, then yes. Ella is coming too. You’re more than welcome to stay. Why don’t you call Cynthia and see if she wants to come over? There’s plenty.”
Romaine leaned her elbows on the counter and peered at Cleo.
“She’s still mad at me for wanting some space.”
“Romaine, do you love her or is she another plaything?”
Romaine was quiet for a moment. Then she sighed.
“I think in my own weird and psychotic way I do love her. Not like I love you, but I am very fond of her.”
“Does she know that?”
“I’ve never told her. I wouldn’t know how to explain it. I know that she loves me, but she doesn’t understand me.”
“Romaine, no one understands you. It’s impossible.”
“That’s not nice. I always thought you understood me.”
“I don’t. You only think that because your selective memory is charming you again.”
“I like to be charmed,” Romaine said, taking Cleo by the waist and waltzing her across the kitchen.
“I miss dancing with you. I miss those other things too,” Romaine said, kissing her cheek.
Cleo protested and pulled away, but Romaine held her and kissed her again, more forcibly, until Cleo succumbed.
“I miss you, Cleo,” Romaine said. “And I can’t make myself stop loving you. Can’t we try just one more time, please?”
Cleo looked at her, feeling sadness rise up. If only I could trust you. If only I could make myself forget all the times you’ve hurt me. “You have driven me to the brink of madness and back. You’ve hurt me more times than I care to remember, and still I love you, will always love you. But this time is different.”
“Different? Different because you’re in love with someone else?”
“Yes. How many times did you think you could run away and expect me to wait? Romaine, I’m done waiting.”
“What if I’m not done loving you? What if I can’t make myself stop loving you? Cleo, I want you back,” Romaine said, moving closer.
“I’m not coming back.”
“You can say that, but I know better,” Romaine said, pressing her up against the counter. She nestled between thighs she now longed for. She started to unbutton Cleo’s shirt.
“Dammit, Romaine, I’m not one of your playthings. Don’t treat me like one,” Cleo said, trying to get away. Romaine held her tight.
“You want me. I know you do. Don’t play coy with me. I know you miss me,” Romaine said, kissing her and continuing her pursuit.
The doorbell rang.
“Let me go!”
“All right, don’t get ruffled.”
Cleo answered the door, her face red and her demeanor flustered. Frankie noticed immediately.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” Cleo said, smiling at her and kissing her cheek. “Come in. Are you hungry? Hi, Ella, I’ve got the gin and tonics chilling.”
“What a gal,” Ella said, patting her shoulder. Frankie saw Romaine standing in the kitchen doorway. Suddenly, she understood what was bothering Cleo.
“Hello, Romaine. What a lovely surprise. Haven’t seen you in a while. How have you been?” Ella asked her.
“Fine, Ella. I’m doing just fine,” Romaine said, smiling. She watched Frankie stiffen.
“Why don’t you pour drinks, Romaine,” Cleo said, “and we’ll have them on the deck.”
“Certainly,” Romaine said, making herself at home. “Shall I set another plate?”
“Since you’re staying,” Cleo said.
She led them out back. She whispered to Frankie, “I’m sorry.”
Frankie looked at her. “Somehow, I don’t think this is your doing.”
“It’s not.”
“I missed you,” Frankie said, taking her hand.
“I missed you too. How did it go?”
“It was okay,” Frankie said. She had gone to the city to make a demo tape.
“I’m glad you went. I know you don’t go in for those things. I’m proud of you.”
“I’m playing in Rock Springs next week. Will you come?”
“I’d love to.”
“Love to what?” Romaine interjected, handing them both a drink.
“Watch her play in Rock Springs,” Cleo replied.
“Sounds like fun. You are quite popular at the restaurant. Just the other day Jack the poet complained to me about people’s less than enthusiastic response to his work. He seems to think that you’ve spoiled them,” Romaine said, smiling at Frankie.
“Yep. She’ll be famous one day and won’t hang out with the likes of us. She’ll be consorting with those, what do you call them, celebrity dykes?” Ella said, sitting back in a chair and propping up her feet.
“Celesbos,” Frankie replied.
“Yep, before you know it she’ll be one of those,” Ella said.
“I doubt that,” Frankie replied. “I just like to write songs. I don’t go in for the rest.”
“Sometimes you don’t have a choice in those matters. The press gets a hold of you—” Romaine said.
“And the next thing you know you’re sleeping with a reporter, and then you’re all over the papers,” Cleo said.
Romaine scowled at her, and Ella laughed heartily.
Frankie looked over at Ella, who wiped the tears from her eyes.
“Well, honey, if the shoe fits,” Ella replied, looking over at Romaine.
Romaine recovered herself. “My best advice to you would be not to sleep with reporters. They can certainly mess up your life.”
“Speaking of reporters, where is your little scribbler?” Ella asked.
“At home pouting,” Romaine replied.
“What naughty thing did you do this time?” Ella asked.
“It’s more like what didn’t I do,” Romaine replied.
“I’ve been there a time or two. Women. Can’t live with them, can’t live without them. There’s no telling,” Ella said, finishing her drink.
Frankie went to refill it. Cleo followed to refill her own. Tonight was supposed to be fun, and now it was turning tedious. Cleo had forgotten how Romaine dominated everything.
She looked over at Frankie. “Do you think they’d notice if we just slipped out the front and went out for dinner?”
Frankie walked over and held her. “What’s wrong?”
“She’s fucking with my life again. I can feel it, and it’s not fair to you. I can’t expect you to put up with her shit,” Cleo said, feeling depression creep in.
Frankie looked deep into her eyes. “This may come as a surprise, but I’m in for the duration. So if you think I’m going to walk away because things get a little sticky, you’re much mistaken.”
Cleo held her tightly. Frankie kissed her gently at first and then deeper, wanting her right there, wanting to take her, feeling the weight of her body, kissing her everywhere. Cleo felt herself succumbing, forgetting about dinner, her guests, Romaine. Frankie kissed her neck and shoulders and started to unbutton her shirt when they heard a small cough behind them. Ella had come to retrieve her drink.
“If you two’d like, I could take Romaine out to dinner,” Ella said, smiling.
Cleo blushed, and Frankie tried to collect herself as they rejoined the others.
“No, no. It’s almost ready,” Cleo said.
“Good, I’m perfectly starving,” Romaine said. “Are you all right? You’re flushed.” She touched Cleo’s cheek. Her color had risen and she looked shaken.
“Yes, I’m fine,” Cleo said, turning away.
Romaine looked at Frankie and poured herself another drink. Tonight seemed to be one for drinking. Halfway through dinner they cracked open a third bottle of wine. The wine eased the tension, and by the end of dinner Romaine and Cleo were telling stories about their early days.
“My god, you guys were awful,” Frankie said.
“We were,” Cleo said. Looking across the table at Romaine, she thought, If you had known how to control yourself we would be together right now, proudly telling people how long we’d been together. Instead, we’re alone, and all we have left is funny stories. Romaine caught her eye.
Ella got up, “I hate to be the party poop, but early mornings are killers.”
“She’s right,” Frankie said, “Alice in those bright orange pantsuits is difficult enough, but with a hangover…”
Cleo smiled at her. “I’ll walk you out,” she said, taking Frankie’s hand.
Romaine cringed. She’d not seen Cleo with another woman and it hurt. She bit her lip. I’m losing her. I can’t believe I’m losing her. She felt panic rising up and the sickness of loss covering her like a clammy fog.
“I’ll see you in the morning,” Cleo said, kissing Frankie goodnight.
“Thanks again, Cleo,” Ella said, leading Frankie off.
“She’ll be all right,” Ella said when she caught Frankie looking back. “They have a past, but Romaine has done things even a kindhearted woman like Cleo can’t forgive or forget. Those two might be friends and sisters, but they’re done being lovers.”
“You think so?”
“I know so, sweetie. I’ve seen it enough times to know. It’s hard to let go, but they learn. You and Cleo make a good couple. You’re good for each other. Romaine was never good for her. You will be. You love her, don’t you?”
“I do, Ella, I really do.”
“Good.”
* * *
Romaine was drying the dishes as Cleo washed them. Romaine missed times like these, and she wished she had appreciated them while they were happening.
“Why is it that when we talk of our past we only remember the bad times, the fights, and all that?” Romaine asked.
Cleo looked at her and sighed. “Because there were more of them than the good moments.”
“God, I fucked up, didn’t I?” Romaine said.
Cleo felt tears well up. “I wish I could learn to hate you. It would make things so much easier. I loved you more than I’ve ever loved anyone, and all you did was shit on me!” Cleo said, hitting Romaine’s chest with both fists and then running from the room.
“Cleo, wait!” Romaine said, running after her. But Cleo locked herself in her room. Romaine slumped outside the door. She heard Cleo crying long into the night. When the tears finally stopped, Romaine let herself out quietly and drove home. She felt worse than she had in her entire life. It was the first time the gravity of her actions had touched her, and she felt them acutely.
The next morning Romaine brought her flowers. Cleo looked at them through red eyes.
“I’m sorry. If you never want to speak to me again, I’ll understand,” Romaine said, sheepishly.
Cleo opened the screen door. “If only that were possible. Come in and have some coffee.”
Romaine kissed her cheek. “Thank you.”
Cleo poured coffee, and Romaine found a vase for the dozen white daylilies. They were Cleo’s favorite.
“Why are you always sweet and thoughtful after you’re such a beast? Why can’t you be like this without the other part?”
“I’m schizophrenic?”
“I mean it, Romaine, why?”
“I don’t know why. I do bad things and I know I’m doing them, but I can’t seem to make myself stop. It’s as if I have an evil twin that despises harmony. I wish someone would make me better, kill the demon. I could be good. I have moments, but then something inside me snaps. I hurt everyone I touch,” Romaine said, tears building up. Cleo held her.
