LimeLight (6 page)

Michael swears loudly, calling Jackie a bad name, which brings me back to my senses. I sit up and blink at the light. Michael slams down the phone and swears again.

“What?”

He holds up his hands in a helpless gesture. “The man is a moron, but it sounds like he stands by those figures. That business with the IRS was nasty, Claudette. I had no idea.”

“Nor did I.” I lean back, closing my eyes again.

“I wish I were in a better position to help you. But I’m stretched fairly tight myself. If Richard wasn’t still working, we wouldn’t be able to afford the place we have.”

I just sigh.

“I don’t know where you can possibly live on that amount of money per month. Do you have any family who could possibly—?”

I sit up straight, like a woman waking from the dead, eyes wide open. “No! I most certainly do not.”

“Excuse me,” he says in a wounded tone. “I’m only trying to help.”

“I’m sorry…” I press my cool hands against my hot cheeks, willing for this all to be over, once and for all. I wonder if Michael would have any qualms about helping me get some Valium or something that could assist me in bringing my troubles to a grand finale.

“Even if we sell everything that’s in storage,” he says sadly, “I don’t imagine it would last you for terribly long… It wouldn’t get you into a nice retirement home.”

“I’m not going to a retirement home,” I say with a new resolve.

“No?”

“No.”

“What then?”

“I need your help, Michael.”

“That’s why I came, darling.” He comes over and takes both my hands. “Tell me, what shall we do?”

So I quickly spill out my plan to end my life—this time successfully. “Do you have anything I can use? Valium perhaps? Any tranquilizers or sedatives?”

“No…” He moans softly. “You don’t want to do that.”

“Oh, but I do. I am ready to check out, and I want you to help me.”

“I can’t do that.”

“Why not?” I frown at him. “I thought you believed in assisted suicide.”

“Perhaps in some cases I do. For instance if someone is suffering with an incurable illness—”

“I do have an incurable illness.”

“What?”

“Old age and poverty.”

“Oh, Claudette, please don’t involve me in this. I want to help you, darling, but not like this. I can’t.”

“Fine! I’ll do it myself.” I walk over and look out the window. “I’ve never been a brave woman, but if I can’t get drugs, perhaps I can find something to jump from, or I’ll get my car
out of storage and find a garage somewhere that I can park it in and asphyxiate myself. Would that be better?”

“Oh, Claudette.” He comes from behind me and places his hands on my shoulders. “I hate seeing you like this.”

I turn and face him.
“Then help me.”

“I know you’re going to find this hard to believe, especially coming from someone like me, but I’ve begun to reconsider the possibility of an afterlife.”

“An afterlife?”

“Yes…”

“What are you talking about?”

“Richard and I have started going to a little church that meets on the beach.”

I blink in astonishment. “What? You and Richard in a church? You must be kidding. Are you making this up?”

“I know it must sound strange. But just because we’re gay doesn’t mean we have been excommunicated from God. According to the Bible, God sent Jesus to the cross for all sinners. This little church loves us for who we are. They know we’re gay, but they still welcome us.”

I am stunned. “And you go to this church, Michael?
Willingly?
”

He nods. “I’m not claiming to have any answers, Claudette. But I’m not getting any younger either. I remember having a long talk with Gavin, just a month or so before he died. He was thinking a lot about things like God and heaven… I remember him asking me if I was willing to ask the hard questions.”

“The hard questions?”

“You know…about what comes next…does God really exist…is there such a thing as heaven. I’m willing to ask those questions now. This church is helping me find some answers.”

I don’t know what to say. I feel as if I’ve just been blindsided. Michael, of all people, is actually thinking about religion. Has the whole world gone completely mad?

“So, you see, I can’t help you to do this. It would be wrong to help you end your own life when I’m still trying to figure out whether or not there’s an afterlife. I couldn’t live with myself if I did that.”

I sit back down in the chair, lean over, and hold my head in my hands. Everything has been turned upside down, inside out, and I can’t begin to make sense of any of it. I do not know what to do.

“There has to be a way out,” Michael says calmly. “I mean, besides suicide.”

I look up at him, staring blankly.

“Come on, darling. Think this through with me. There must be someone in your family… How about your sister? I remember she used to come down to visit sometimes and—”

“That is impossible.”

“Why? She seemed like a nice woman to me. A little frumpy perhaps, but you two seemed to get along. What came between you two?”

“My mother.”

He frowns. “Your mother?”

“Yes…my mother died, not long after Gavin died.”

“I’m sorry, darling, I didn’t know. But, goodness, she must’ve been very old.”

“She was ninety-four.”

“Good genetics. You probably have at least twenty good years left for you too, Claudette.”

I roll my eyes. “And that’s supposed to be
good
news?”

“Still, how did your mother come between you and your sister? Explain.”

“When my mother died…she left her house to me. Violet was very hurt. She held it against me.”

“And you let that, a mere house, separate you from your own flesh and blood?”

“
I
didn’t let it. Violet is the one who held my mother’s choice against me. And I was still getting over Gavin at the time… I just didn’t need that kind of stress back then. For that matter, I don’t need it now.”

Michael’s eyes light up. “So what became of the house?”

I shrug. “It’s still there.”

“Do you still own it?”

“I’ve been paying the taxes.”

He’s on his feet. “Presto! There’s your answer, Claudette. You have a house!”

I frown. “It’s not much of a house. It’s about a hundred years old and probably run-down. Gavin wanted to help my mother with the cost of repairs. I was worried the old house might collapse around her ears and she’d be forced to come down here and
live with us permanently. As I recall, she had to get the wiring fixed and the roof replaced. But Gavin was the one who handled these things; he sent her checks sometimes. And she sent him sweet little thank-you notes.”

“So at least the house has electricity and a decent roof.” He chuckles. “That’s a start.”

I shake my head. “This is crazy.”

“Come on, darling. This is your opportunity. Your answer. Can’t you see that?”

“I can’t see much of anything at the moment, Michael.”

“Where is this house?”

“Silverton,” I mumble.

“Where’s that?”

“Northern California…an old lumber town…where I grew up.”

“It sounds delightful.”

“Delightful?” This man clearly has no idea what he’s talking about.

“You mentioned the Jaguar is in storage?”

“That’s what I’ve been told.”

“How about a road trip?”

“A road trip?”

“To Silverton.”

“You can’t possibly be serious.” I frown up at him. “That’s about an eight-hour drive. At my age and my present state of mind, I doubt I would even survive it.”

“Look, Claudette. You wanted to commit suicide just
minutes ago. Why should you fret over an all-day drive? Would you really care if it killed you?”

I consider this, then just shrug.

He glances at his watch. “Let’s go check on the things in storage now.”

“Why?”

“If you’re moving to Silverton, you might want some of your furnishings and personal belongings moved up there.”

“You really are serious about this?”

He reaches for both my hands and gently helps me to stand. “First we’ll get your car out and make sure it’s ready for the road. Is it in good repair?”

“Of course, it’s in good repair. I have that car checked regularly, the oil changed like clockwork, and I just had the tires replaced last winter.”

“Good girl.” He pats me on the back, then reaches for my purse. “And here’s your exquisite bag, my dear.” He holds it before him, examining it closely. “Versace, I presume?”

I nod, suppressing a groan as I recall how much I paid for that pocketbook a few months ago. I discovered it at an exclusive shop on Rodeo Drive; it was a splurge even for me and far more than what I’m allotted on my new monthly budget. How on earth is that meager sum supposed to cover all my living expenses? It hardly seems possible.

He hands the bag to me and smiles. “Very chic, darling, just like you. You really do look lovely today, Claudette.”

I narrow my eyes as the corners of my lips curve into a miniscule smile. “You’re attempting to butter me up, aren’t you?”

“Moi?”
He links his arm in mine as he leads me out the door. “And now the adventure begins.” As we wait for the elevator, he merrily hums the tune to “We’re Off to See the Wizard.”

But I feel fairly certain that at the end of the journey, our wizard, not unlike the one in the movie, will be nothing more than an insecure little man with a receding hairline, hiding behind a heavy velvet curtain and pretending to be something he is not.

I
sn’t it unseasonably warm for November?” Michael asks. After a light lunch, we are now at the storage unit place, somewhere outside of Beverly Hills, and Michael is trying to unlock the door to the unit where my belongings are supposedly safely stashed away.

“I suppose.” I’m impatient for him to get the stubborn lock open, worried that this large unit will be empty.

“There,” he says as the key finally turns. He opens the door, turns on the light, and to my relief, my things are there.

I rush over to a marble-top table that once occupied a prominent place in my foyer. It looks sadly out of place next to the cardboard box marked Small Kitchen Appliances. I run my hand over the cool surface and sigh.

“Wow,” says Michael. “There’s a lot here.”

I nod, looking around helplessly. “Whatever will I do with all of it?”

“How big is your family home?”

“Family home?” I wonder at his choice of words. He obviously doesn’t understand this situation at all. But then, how could he? I always kept my roots, both in my hair and in my
past, carefully concealed. “It’s not exactly what I’d call the
family home
, Michael. It’s a small wooden house with a screen door.”

“Sounds charming.”

I look at the lovely furnishings I saved, items that would enhance the appearance of most homes…but not for the life of me can I imagine them situated in my mother’s house. It would be a pathetic joke.

“How large is the house, darling?”

“The square footage?” I shrug. “I have absolutely no idea.”

“How many bedrooms, baths, that sort of thing?”

I force myself to remember the house. “Two bedrooms. One bath. A living room and kitchen. That’s it.”

His brows fly up. “Really?”

“Yes. I told you it was small.”

“So…we’ll just have to scale down a bit. You’ll pick out a few things you know will fit, items that you’ll need—beds, tables, chairs, perhaps a sofa. Not the Casino sectional, of course, since I suspect that won’t fit in a home that size. How big would you say the living room is?”

“Not big.” I remove my jacket, carefully fold it, and set it on the marble-top table. “It’s awfully warm in here, isn’t it?”

“No air conditioning.”

I look around the unit again. “I have no idea where to begin, Michael.”

His forehead creases as he gives this some thought. “For
starters, I think we need to get some movers over here to help. We’ll point out which boxes and pieces you want to take to Silverton, get them loaded on the truck, and—”

“Do you really think I’ll stay in Silverton?”

“What other options do you have, darling?”

I can’t think of an intelligent answer. I can barely think at all. So I pull out an armchair from the formal dining room set and sit my weary bones down on it. I vaguely listen as Michael calls Information on his cell phone and inquires about a specific moving company, which is apparently still in business since he’s soon talking to someone. It seems he has some sort of personal connection with this place, because he mentions a man’s name and then chats for a few minutes.

I close my eyes and lean back into the Mackintosh chair. What possessed Gavin to pick out this design, since it’s never been comfortable? Although it is striking to behold with its modern lines and hard shellac finish. Even so, I’m certain this set is not something I’ll take to Silverton. If I really am going to Silverton, which seems rather implausible, despite the phone conversation I overhear from Michael’s end.

“I know this is terribly short notice, darling, but we’d love to have them come out here today, if possible.” He pauses. “You can do that? That’s wonderful. Please tell Peter I am eternally grateful and give him my best, will you?” He tells them the address of the storage place and then turns to me. “What is the address of your Silverton house, dear?”