Anne offered James a small smile. “We can’t erase what’s happened or get back all that time, but—” She took a breath. “I guess we can try to understand it a little better. Maybe that’s enough. It’ll have to be.”
“You’re a hell of a woman, kid, you know that?”
He’d called herkidon their first date, and Anne remembered, as clear as anything, how good she’d felt hearing it. Safe. Safe enough to get a little thrill from the nickname and misspell it into attraction.
Arthur’s head was swiveling back and forth between them like he was at a tennis match and their long history was the ball. “Oh, my goodness gracious,” he said, in a tiny, wavering voice. “It’s true, isn’t it? You’re a lesbian.”
He sounded shocked, not declarative, but the words still rang in the room nonetheless: the first time Anne had heard her own revelation echoed back at her from someone else.
It felt good. No, so much better than good. It feltcorrect.
Just like that, the last tiny grains of uncertainty—what if she’d somehow gotten this all wrong? What if she was turning her life upside down for nothing?—disappeared completely.
With that gone, it was so much easier to smile. “Are you all right, Arthur?”
“Shouldn’t I be the one asking you? You’ve just—oh my God. You just came out. You came out! This is a huge deal! Anne, has anyone—James, did you congratulate her yet? Of course you didn’t, it’s not like you to think about—”
Almost before she realized it was happening, Arthur rushed over to Anne’s side of the island and wrapped her in his arms, squeezing her tightly.
Too surprised to move, Anne stayed where she was, wedged inside his full-body hug.
“Mazel! I’m so thrilled for you. May this give you the same happiness it’s given James. You know, my grandmother alwaysused to give us her blessing by saying ‘Zolst leben un zein gezunt,’ which means ‘You should live and be well.’ She’d tell you the same now, if she were still with us, so I’ll just say it in her place. Zolst leben un zein gezunt, Anne.”
Anne was sincerely touched. “Well, that’s very—”
“Of course, my grandmother also used to say, ‘Arthur, dray nisht arum vie a forts in roosl,’ and that’s Yiddish for ‘Arthur, don’t wander around like a fart in a pickle barrel,’ so not all of her expressions were kind ones.”
“Honey,” James said gently from behind them. “Why don’t you let Anne breathe?”
“Sorry, I’m sorry. I know. I can be a lot sometimes.” He released her, stepping back.
Something in Anne made her say, “No, it’s okay. Really. I think I’m all right with a little much today. Arthur, thank you for—”
Unexpectedly, she reached for him again and pulled him back into a quick embrace.
It was the first time she’d ever hugged Arthur and meant it. From the way he tensed with obvious astonishment, Arthur clearly realized it, too. Only for a second, though, and then he had his arms around her again.
“Two hugs,” he said softly. “Wow. I sure am a lucky guy.”
You’re married to your person. A flash of pain cut through Anne’s appreciation.You have your spouse.
Out loud, she told him, “You sure are.”
* * *
As luck and talent would have it, Anne was able to steer the rest of their conversation in the direction she wanted. For the most part.
Inevitably, once they were seated in the living room and eating from James’s spread, Arthur drove them right into uneasy territory. “So, how’s Sadie handling the news? Probably a whole lot better than you did when James came out, since you’re not married to her.”
Anne, her throat full and tight, needed a distraction. “Oh, Sadie’s fine. Busy getting ready for a trip to New York to see her brother. Hey, don’t you volunteer for that LGBTQ community center in Santa Monica? Tell me about that.”
Arthur all but levitated at the chance to talk about his work—a retired endocrinologist, he helped run free clinics for transgender people with low incomes—and, to her surprise, Anne found herself intrigued by one particular detail. The free medical care was apparently funded in large part by the center’s fundraising campaigns, which usually fell far short of their objectives. Decidedly unlike Anne’s own fundraisers.
The idea of lending her considerable expertise was—strangely appealing. Maybe she could look into it, when she felt ready.
While they talked and ate, James watched Anne from his chair on the other side of the coffee table. His eyes were slightly narrowed, as if he knew the outline of something unsaid was there in the room with them and wasn’t sure how to trace it. Not yet.
Anne answered their gentle questions as honestly as she could, walking them through a story she cut carefully around the loud absence of Sadie. All the while, her mind strayed back to the chapbook and the note on the kitchen island. The only bit of Sadie she had at the moment.