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CHAPTER18
Remi
Time flies when you’re having fun, or so the saying goes. The truth is that I’ve never believed these kinds of unrealistic adages. To start, I never bought the concept that simple “fun” exists for people like me; my life has been a series of avoidances. By adulthood, I’d become skilled at avoiding the paparazzi’s continual badgering, my grandparents’ ballooned expectations, and commitment to friends and lovers because it made sense to shun any form of human contact that could possibly introduce complications.
Until Tristan and the Wilder family came into my life.
By the time Grandmother calls on November 15th at precisely nine a.m., I’m starting to play the role of a more fun loving and optimistic person. There’s also a saying—fake it ’til you make it. This seems to be working for me. I still struggle with believing that life holds the potential for true happiness, but not nearly as much as I did several short months ago.
“Good morning, young Julian.”
“Hello, Grandmother.”
“How is college life treating you, dear?” I listen for the usual sarcasm, but it isn’t there.
“Very well, thank you. And how is Grandfather?”
“He’s the same. Missing you, of course.”
“I miss him too,” I admit.
“I… would like to compliment you on… on something.” Grandmother’s voice is tight.
“Oh, really?” This is unusual.
“I’m being sincere, son. You helped in the recruitment of an extremely efficient young woman as a night shift reservationist. Tara Wilder is her name. Robert Lavigne can’t speak highly enough of her.”
“That’s good news.”
“Is this Tara someone special in your life, young Julian?” She sounds hopeful.
Too bad I’m going to dash her hopes. “She’s a friend.”
“And nothing more?” Grandmother sighs her disappointment. “I would be quite thrilled if your interest in her was romantic, to be honest.”
“You know I like men.” This revelation didn’t thrill her when I came out in high school. Nothing has changed—to this point, I continue to be an all-around Remington family disappointment.
“Preferring men doesn’t preclude you from enjoying women, as well.”
“Grandmother, I exclusively ‘enjoy’ men.” Although she can’t see me, I use those obnoxious air quotes. “I’m friendly with Tara’s family.”
“Is she married?”
“No, but she has three children. I’ve become a source of help to…” I can’t believe I’m volunteering this information. “They matter to me.”
For the first time in years, Grandmother seems to be at a loss for words.
“I’ve coached her oldest son’s soccer team, and I took her younger son to LCC for a sculpting lesson.” I catch myself smiling. “Her three-year-old daughter is adorable.”
“Why don’t you bring them to the Connecticut estate for Thanksgiving dinner?”
“You want me to bring an entire family for the holiday?”
“I do… Your grandfather would love to see children running in the hallways of our home.”
“Um… Tara will want her brother to come along.”
“He is welcome.”
“I’ll talk to them and let you know.” I’m entering dangerous “meet the family” territory by taking Tristan to the Connecticut estate for Thanksgiving. And by introducing him to my grandparents, although they’ll initially have no idea that Tristan is my lover.
“Well, I expect to hear from you in the next day or two, so the cook has sufficient time to prepare for the holiday meal.”
“I’ll be in touch.”
“Incidentally, Robert is considering Tara for a supervisory role at the company,” she informs me.
“She’ll be ecstatic to hear that.” I’m ecstatic to hear it too. A promotion means a raise in pay, which would not only benefit the kids, but could potentially free Tristan from constant modeling so he could spend more time in the classroom.
“It was very nice to speak to you today.” She’s letting me off the hook without stern reminders about application deadlines and future obligations.
“The feeling is mutual.”
“I will speak to you again soon.”
“Yes, of course. “
“Goodbye, then.”
* * *
