Well, everyone’s home life is unsatisfying. If it weren’t people would live with their parents forever.
-The Breakfast Club
Brooke traveled light. She only carried a few pairs of jeans, some tee shirts, her
mother’s silver earrings, a couple of books and the loud echo of her sister’s
admonitions. She’d tried hard to
jettison that last one during her bike ride over, but it was a tenacious
stowaway.
She knocked on Teddy’s door, still battling bad
feelings. But he smiled as he let
her in and reached down to kiss her on the cheek. She blushed and felt better.
“I have a surprise,” he said. “Let me show you your room.”
Brooke was surprised.
“My room… but I thought we’d…”
“I know,” he interrupted. “But like Virginia Woolf says, every girl needs a room of
her own. And this room is more
feminine, more appropriate for a young lady. We can still share other things.” And he laughed his gravelly laugh.
The room he led her into was cloyingly feminine. The walls were painted a dusty pink;
white, ruffled curtains hung over the windows. A queen-sized bed with a white, chenille bedspread (this was
rather nice) was against the far wall.
The furniture, which included a vanity, was delicate, white, with
spindly legs and ornate hardware.
The bookcase held no books, only knick-knacks and some photographs. Brooke, trying hard to mask her
disappointment, wandered over to it.
Among the photos was a picture of two middle-aged women,
which looked to have been taken in a the 60s, a picture of a younger Teddy
standing somewhat apart from a young woman, and a photo of a teenage boy taken
(if the haircut is a reliable gauge) in the early-80s.
“Who are all these people,” asked Brooke, still trying to
adjust to being Teddy’s roommate instead of his lover.
“Well, these women,” he said, gesturing to the two women in
the picture from the 60s, “Are my mother and aunt. The one on the right is my
mother and the other is my Aunt Ellinore. It was their father who bought this apartment back around
the turn of the century.” Teddy’s
mother was a formidable, stern-looking woman with a jaw as set as her
hairdo. His aunt, Ellinore, was
more delicate with something a little desperate behind her eyes.
Teddy continued.
“Ellinore decorated this room in the hopes that her daughter, my cousin
Althea who’s in this picture with me, would return from San Francisco. They’d had a falling out and Althea ran
off to San Francisco where she had her son, Will, who’s in this last
picture. They never did return,
though, and this room just kind of stayed. When Ellinore died she hadn’t made any legal arrangements,
and the apartment ownership fell to me.
So, now it’s all mine. And now it will be ours. Since this room was
decorated with such a feminine flair, I thought you’d like it. If you don’t, you should feel free to
make any changes you want, or take any of the other bedrooms. I want you to think of this as your
home.”
“Oh no,” said Brooke, who didn’t want to complain. “It’s just fine the way it is.” She wandered over to the vanity,
picking up a glazed, ceramic cherub from it and examining it.
“Do you ever talk to your cousin,” she asked.
“Oh, Althea died years ago,” said Teddy. “As did my mother and aunt. I wish you could have met my
mother. She’d have admired your
passion.”
Brooke smiled.
“What about her son… Will?
Is he still in San Francisco?”
“He is,” responded Teddy, with a grimace. “And he’s not really a kid. He’s older than you by now. And, unfortunately, it sounds like he’s
coming back to Chicago soon.”
“Why is that unfortunate?” asked Brooke.
“Oh, everyone on that side of the family is the same, “said
Teddy, dismissively.
“Reckless, flighty, irresponsible attention mongers.”
“I guess you weren’t close to your family,” said Brooke,
looking sadly around the room.
“My mother and I were close,” said Teddy, sitting on the
bed. “She was an impressive
woman. But she died when I was
just a teenager, so I don’t miss her so much anymore. You know, though, as silly as my aunt was, I still think
it’s appropriate that you’re in a room decorated by her. If it hadn’t been for her, I might
never have met you.”
“How so?” asked Brooke, surprised.
“Her husband,” Teddy began. “Was running for local alderman. He had a fundraiser at The March that I had an obligation to
attend. It was my first time
there. I had no stomach for
politics, but I found I liked the bar.
If I hadn’t discovered The March, I might never have discovered you,
which would have been a shame.”
Brooke smiled at that.
“So, all that’s left are you and your cousin Will.”
“Second cousin,” said Teddy, seemingly eager to put as much space
between him and his wastrel kin as possible.
“That’s sad,” said Brooke, thinking of Celia. “It’s not enough family for a big family
rift.”
As she said that, she passed Teddy sitting on the bed and he
reached out for her arm, pulling her down next to him. He stroked her
hair. “I have you now,” he
said. “That’s enough. Listen, I hope you didn’t think I
wanted you in this room because I wanted you away from me. I just thought you’d like a pretty room
like this. At the moment, though,
I want you quite near me.” And he
reached around Brooke and kissed her with as much passion as he could muster.
I’ll leave it to you to imagine how much that was. Lord knows, Brooke was doing more than
her fair share of imagining. She
was imagining heat behind his kiss. She was imagining urgency in his
hands. This whole love scene is as
much a figment of Brooke’s imagination as mine. Teddy’s lovemaking was functionary, unimaginative and brief,
something to be got through in between sermons to his rapt congregation of one.
When it was over, dissatisfaction niggled in the back of
Brooke’s brain. But Teddy rolled
off the bed, pulled up his pants (he’d kept his shirt on) and said, “Shall we
have a drink and discuss the book some more? I’ve had a new thought about the small pox epidemic in the
Americas that I wanted to share with you.”
