Substitute for Love (28 page)

Holly woke on Friday morning with a happiness she had not known since she had been a child. If she’d been a character in a musical no doubt she would have burst into song at the sight of the brilliant sky or the smell of the freshly brewed coffee.

All her joy showed in her voice when she answered the phone a little past nine.

“Holly, is that you?”

It took her a moment. “How have you been, Clay?”

“I’ve been good. You sound different.”

In another mood she might have taken it for an accusation of some sort, but no way was she going to let him spoil her day. “I’m happy. How about you?”

Perhaps someone else would have replied in kind, eager to show her that he had not missed her for a second. Instead, Clay said, “It was hard for a while. I did miss you.”

“I’m sorry, then,” she answered. “And now?”

“Well, it’s better. I have to admit that making my own meals made me realize how much you did.” There was a hint of self-deprecating laughter in his voice.

“I’m sure that’s good for you, then.” She didn’t bother to hide the fact that she was smiling.

“Anyway, I called because I’m drowning in tomatoes.”

She laughed outright. “Yeah, that’s what happens this time of year. It’s only the start.”

“You did all the work, so you should share some of the bounty. I just wanted to tell you that if you wanted some, I’ll leave a box on the porch for you.”

Touched, Holly agreed. “That would actually be wonderful. Even the organic market tomatoes aren’t the same.”

There was an awkward silence, then Clay asked, “Are you really happy?”

“Yes,” she said firmly. She found herself telling him all about Ramsay 4,5 and her paper, and the e-mail she’d gotten from Professor McKay in Australia, who had asked her to decide nothing about her future until he had checked his scholarship budget.

“That’s really wonderful news,” Clay said heartily. “I am thrilled for you.”

Holly knew that if he had said things that supportive when they were together she might never have realized what was missing from her life. Nevertheless, it was good to hear. There was so much more he didn’t know about — Audra, her mother — but she didn’t want to share that with him. She would be happy to maintain an arm’s-length friendship with him, and discussing her academic pursuits was a start.

She waited until she knew he had left for his classes, then popped over to the house to get the tomatoes. They were gloriously red and ripe. She’d make a tomato salad for Jo to go with lunch.

She bounded to the door to let Jo in when she knocked.

Jo’s classes and papers had kept her busy until today, and Holly couldn’t wait to tell her all about Ramsay 4,5 and Professor McKay.

Before she could say more than hello, Jo waved the morning Orange County Register at her.

“Look close, would you?” She held a photograph in front of Holly’s nose. “I’m sure that’s her. I thought she seemed familiar, like I’d seen her in a picture, maybe on TV but not as an actress. It’s her.”

Holly stared at the picture. Metro section, page twelve featured an article about something called a Values and Faith Summit at the nearby Putnam Institute. The photograph was of Grip Putnam, the famous radio pundit, and his daughter. His daughter was named Reyna.

“I don’t think so,” Holly lied. She just couldn’t admit it to herself. Reyna. She was Grip Putnam’s daughter. Grip Putnam, the most hated man in radio. Irrational, rabidly conservative Grip Putnam. Reyna worked at the Putnam Institute, which made her his accomplice in spreading misinformation and lies about liberal policies and conservative goals. The Institute was tightly linked to something Holly had never heard of before: ex-gay ministries. Clay had foamed at the mouth when he talked about Grip Putnam and the Putnam Institute. They passed themselves off as a place of learning, he’d explained, but they were just political hacks spewing out flawed findings and out-and-out propaganda.

Reyna had loved everything she had done that night, Holly could not be wrong about that. The caption on the picture had to be wrong. Oh damn it, damn it. Reyna. Reyna Putnam.

Jo tapped the picture. “How many Reynas do you know?”

“One,” Holly answered, honestly. She was amazed at how quickly dreams could turn to dust. She blinked at the photograph and didn’t want to believe it. She made herself read the article more closely. It sounded as if the summit had taken some sort of unexpected turn toward moderate policies, but it was likely to be just spin to bolster the early whispers of Grip Putnam’s intentions to run for office — very high office.

She wanted Jo to go because she wanted to cry. She had thought, had hoped, that maybe Reyna was more than just a fantastic lover. If all she had wanted was great sex then she might as well have gone with Murphy. Murphy had references, after all. Instead she’d gone with a complete stranger.

But she had felt something when she looked at Reyna, something missing with Murphy. Sure, she’d had flashes of lust for Tori and for Nancy… and for Flo and Geena and the woman at the organic market who had hoisted a fifty-pound bag of millet on her shoulder with ease. She’d probably have happily gone to bed with Galina, if she had ever called. But none of that had been like what she felt just looking at Reyna. They had shared something that started in that moment of shared honesty in the theater bathroom. The connection had been with more than their bodies.

Or was she just a fool? Had she fallen again for someone who would turn out to be another intellectual fascist, only this time as conservative as Clay had been liberal? She had changed so much, so quickly, but this was one direction she would refuse to go. Audra had paid the price, accepting security as a substitute for family. She herself used to think being needed was the same as being loved.

“Hey, don’t cry,” Jo said. “I’m sorry, Holls.” She wrapped one arm around Holly’s shoulders. “Trite but true, there are plenty of other dykes in the sea.”

She dashed the tears off her cheeks. “I know. But she—”

“She was good, I understand. I’m glad your first time was great. But you can’t possibly go back in the closet for her, and that’s what it would take.” Jo stabbed the paper with her finger. “What a hypocrite. They work for American Values for Family, the Traditional Values Coalition, Focus on the Family — the scum of the earth, as far as I’m concerned. She’s making money off of gay-bashing when she secretly likes muff-diving as much as I do. Typical rich-privilege thinking.”

Holly wiped her eyes and tried to make a joke. “Gee, tell me how you really feel.”

“There’s nothing that can possibly justify hypocrisy on this scale, nothing.”

Holly knew it was true. She had been so happy, far happier than she had thought possible. Reyna, Audra, Ramsay 4,5— her cup had overflowed.

“Forget vegetables. Let’s go get a hot fudge sundae,” Jo suggested. “We could go to the movies, too. Have a wild Friday afternoon. Then, if you want to, we could go get drunk and disgrace ourselves in downtown Irvine.”

“I don’t think so. I’m… too depressed.” She ought to go out with Jo and somehow find a way to be anywhere but the motel tonight at eleven. She wasn’t going. She couldn’t.

“And you were on top of the world — I’m sorry, Holls. It’s a tough break.”

“I’ll mend,” she said, though she didn’t think she would, at least not in the near future. She could close her eyes and see Reyna’s face watching every reaction as her fingers explored deeper. Reyna had loved doing it and there had been no shadow of shame.

Lunch wasn’t a lot of fun, though Jo tried to distract her. Talking about the possibility of going to Australia was somewhat distracting. She’d never been out of southern California and agreed with Jo that it was high time. Australia could prove a godsend, if she couldn’t get over wanting to see Reyna again.

She waved good-bye to Jo and sank back down on the sofa. Alone with her computer and her books, she didn’t know what to do with herself. Hope had gone right out the window.

The walls seemed to close in. She needed to do something. And as before, when the future seemed untenable, she concentrated on the past. She was not in the best of moods when she set out for her aunt’s.

*

“So even though you’re now willing to distance yourself from gay-bashing, you’ll still do it in your own household.” Reyna twisted her hands around a pencil, envisioning his neck. His epiphany had been a well-acted ploy, at least as far as its impact on her life.

“Don’t muddy the issues, Reyna. What you do with your life has repercussions for me. I may have realized that it was time to moderate my positions, but that doesn’t change my protective instincts. The Putnam name is part of what I have to work with. It’s what I’ve given you.”

“I never wanted it. You never asked if I wanted to be a Putnam. You just made me into one.” The pencil Reyna had been gripping suddenly snapped. “And to think I respected you for a moment.”

“I thought I was meeting you halfway, Reyna.” He flipped closed a file on his desk and gave her his full attention. “You no longer have to work with Danforth and the others. I realized at the summit that that was probably hard on you. I had thought you would change—”

“It’s not something that will ever change—”

“I thought you would change, but I see that I was wrong. But that doesn’t mean you can do as you please. You have a responsibility to the family. I thought you knew that all along—”

“You said your daughter wasn’t going to be a biological error,” she reminded him.

He sighed. “I admit that. I don’t believe it anymore. But neither will you be a detraction from the Putnam family name.”

“I get it,” Reyna said sarcastically. “I’m no longer diseased, but I am still a freak. Do you know what being a Putnam has turned me into? Do you have any idea?” She threw the broken pieces of the pencil on the desk. She knew she was going the way of the pencil and there was no holding back. “I’ve done everything you asked, and I lived with the detectives watching me, endured never being really free to do anything without wondering what it might cost someone I loved. I let you blackmail me with my mother’s illness and I hate you for it. I hate myself for ever agreeing. I should have just exposed you —”

“There was no blackmail, just a clear understanding of actions and consequences.”

She choked and then cleared her throat. “But instead I did what you wanted because I love my mother, and yet I’m sitting here wondering when she’s going to die. Do you understand? I don’t want her to die but I wonder when it’ll happen.” She pressed her hands to her stomach. “When it does I’ll tell you to go to hell. When it does I won’t be a Putnam anymore, not for any price you might put on it. You’ve made me look forward to a time after my mother dies, you bastard.”

“Reyna, calm down!”

“I can’t!” She pressed her hands to her eyes. “And now you tell me that I still have no choice — no dating unless they’re with men you have preselected. Nothing changes for me except that I no longer help people persecute people like me.

“When you calm down and think it over, you’ll realize how much is at stake—”

“What do you want, Father? Do you want the media to report about a daughter who is queer or one in a mental institution? Do you want a daughter you can be proud of because she’s happy and at peace with who she is, or no daughter at all? Would you really prefer that I be dead to you rather than be gay? Because I’m always going to be gay”

His eyes had narrowed. “As far as I know, you haven’t been with anyone since that unfortunate incident at Georgetown. Or have you?”

She was too irrational not to panic. “It doesn’t take practice to know that I am still gay.”

“Answer the question.”

“No! You can have people watching me every minute, you can tap my phone and screen my e-mail, but that doesn’t mean I’ll answer your questions.” She struggled to her feet, feeling like a hundred pounds was strapped to her shoulders. After the initial schism, the summit had been a huge success for her father. She had thought the summons today had been to thank her and let her know that her cage door was finally open. But he wasn’t even going to take the current copout for certain highly placed Republicans and say that his daughter’s sexuality was a private, family matter. Her sexuality was to remain invisible.

“You have always made things so difficult.”

“When you were sleeping with my mother, when you got her pregnant, were you just thinking you had a right to do it? An extramarital affair, and bastard child — okay for you as long as you said ‘sorry’ afterward. But I can’t have any kind of affair. I get to be Caesar’s wife, but never Caesar.”

“I can’t talk to you when you’re like this.”

“Good.”

She turned on her heel and walked out. Paul didn’t look up as she passed his desk. She didn’t have any compassion left for him, not right now. The fight with her father had lost her all hope of Holly and all that Holly represented. Nothing had changed.

She ran out into the twilight and wanted to keep going. She remembered the fantasy of taking Holly to Mexico. Holly, a woman she knew nothing about. A mystery that could be so much more.

She drove toward home, but passed it by, winding into the canyon, then out again. She didn’t know where to go, how to start over. She had thought the cage was open and had let her mind fly free. Tonight at eleven she had been going to tell Holly who she was, suggest they go back to her place to talk and make love and talk, and wake up in the morning to a tomorrow full of promise.

But the cage door was still locked and she didn’t know how to cope. How could she be with Holly tonight and then walk away?

Her cell phone chirped. She almost didn’t answer it.

“Reyna, it’s not serious, but we’re at ICU again. Can you come?” Jean’s steadiness beat back the panic Reyna had felt when she had first heard her voice.

“I’ll be there as soon as I can.” She quickly turned in the direction of the hospital and made herself forget about everything else for a while.

In his usual careful way, Dr. Basu explained what had happened, but Reyna was having trouble taking anything in. Her mother was not in any danger, but the episode only proved she was getting worse. How could two opposite things be true at the same time?