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Subject: RP: {MichaelD} "Sunset on Roses" (mf, teen, rom) (CR305: 10,10,10+) (5/6)
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IX.
I had been concerned about Tracey losing interest in this thing once she got
seriously back into school, but she didn't. If anything, it got more intense.
I could tell that she loved me with that frantic, desperate passion that only
teenagers can manage, and to be honest, I was getting very used to having her
around. The age issue didn't go away, though, and we had a few more difficult
encounters like that weekend in September. But she began to cheer up as her
eighteenth birthday approached in December.
"I will be so happy when I am legal."
We were watching "Ally McBeal" on my couch.
"One more week."
"I know."
"You're still not interested in a party?"
"No. Dinner is enough. I'm going invite Rachel and Melissa. You, them, Mom
and Dennis are plenty."
Melissa was another of her friends, whom I met once or twice. Rachel had
gotten somewhat used to me, but the distance between us remained. I had also
since met Dennis a few times. He was an aging hippie, and he joked about my
being a lawyer, but clearly couldn't care less about my dating Tracey. He
actually told me one night, after he'd emptied his bong, how great it was that
Tracey and I hadn't let "society's hang-up's" get in the way of our love.
We went to Wolfgang Puck's at the Irvine Spectrum, a local mall/theater
complex, on Tracey's birthday. She had gone to the DMV that day to get her
"adult" driver's license, one that would remove the "Under 18 until 199_" from
the face. She and her girlfriends had a good time during the dinner, and I
stayed out of it, talking to Marcy and Dennis.
When dessert came, and the waiters all sang "Happy Birthday," we brought out
the presents. Rachel and Melissa both got her random clothes, a couple of
nice tops and a skirt. Marcy and Dennis got her a silver and turquoise
bracelet, turquoise being her birthstone.
"We had that made special for you," Dennis said. "I know the artist; he gave
me a good deal on it."
Marcy jabbed him in the ribs, but Tracey beamed.
"I love it. It's beautiful. Thanks."
Then I gave her my gift, which was a thick envelope. She regarded it warily,
then opened it up. She pulled a folded piece of paper out of it, read the
first few lines, and gasped. She threw her hand over her mouth and began
squealing and bouncing in her chair. Then she threw her arms around me and
hugged me tightly.
The paper she was holding was the itinerary for a ski trip to Park City over
Christmas Break. I had cleared it with Marcy, who thought it was a wonderful
idea, beforehand.
"Thank you. Oh, my God."
She turned around and excitedly showed it to Rachel and Melissa, who both
shot jealous glances in my direction. But they seemed happy for her, and were
soon back into the teenage chatter.
That was a Monday night, so she went home with her mother, though she kissed
and hugged me repeatedly on the way out.
Wednesday morning, Marcy stuck her head into my office.
"Do you have a few minutes?"
"Sure."
She came in and shut the door behind her, then sat down in one of my chairs.
"I have an idea, which I need to discuss with you."
"Okay."
"I want you to know this is just an idea right now, which may not work out,
but I wanted to see what you thought before we did anything."
"All right."
"Dennis and I are thinking of moving in together. You know he lives in
Huntington Beach."
"Right."
"I don't want to make Tracey change schools this late, not when she's about
to graduate."
I suddenly saw where this was going, and I wasn't sure how I felt about it.
"And I was thinking, since she spends half the week at your house anyway,
that she could just move in with you until she graduates. After that, who
knows? It would just be for school, you know? You wouldn't have to keep her
once she starts college."
"Have you mentioned this to her?"
"No. She doesn't know a thing. I couldn't decide who to ask about it first,
but I decided I should bounce it off you. I didn't want to get her all
excited and confused only to have you shoot the idea down."
"Okay. I have to give this some thought."
"I understand. No pressure. Dennis and I can wait if it comes to that."
"If we decide to do this, I think it would be best if you didn't mention to
her that we talked about it beforehand. She's very sensitive about being
treated like a kid."
"I know, I agree. I'll just propose it to her and let her decide."
"Okay."
She stood up and reached out to squeeze my hand.
"You're the best thing that ever happened to her, you know? She just loves
you to death."
"I know."
I had difficulty concentrating the rest of the day as I pondered this
development. On the one hand, I wasn't sure I was ready to move in with
anyone, Tracey or not. That was a level of commitment I hadn't expected to
get back to this soon. On the other hand, as Marcy pointed out, Tracey was
practically living with me already. She slept at my house two or three nights
out of the week, and when she was gone, I tended to sit around wishing she
were there. And if I-or she-turned out to be not ready for that kind of
commitment, the fact was that Tracey was only eighteen and would be heading
off to college within a year anyway. She had applied only to places in Orange
County, but it would be a big change. It would give us a reasonable out if
the situation just wasn't working.
I went and found Marcy.
"I thought about it, and you can go ahead with it. Let her decide, but I'm
okay with it."
She smiled.
"Great. This is such a big help."
"I know. When are you going to bring it up?"
"I don't know. I need to talk to Dennis some more."
"Okay. Just give me some warning if you can."
The warning came the next day. Friday night, when I got home from work, I
found Tracey stewing on the couch.
I leaned down to kiss her.
"Hi."
"Hi."
"What's up?"
"Nothing."
She was quiet the rest of the evening, even when she made dinner.
"You've been a little distant tonight," I said when we were done eating.
"I know. I'm sorry. It's not you."
I felt guilty about having deceived her, so I didn't push it any further.
"Anything I can do?"
"No."
We went to watch TV, and she was still quiet.
"Do you like having me over here so much?" she asked in the middle of a
commercial.
"What do you mean? Of course I do."
"I mean, this little domestic routine we go through every weekend, I make
dinner for you, sleep over, we garden on Saturday, go out Saturday night, and
blob around on Sunday, you're fine with all that?"
"Absolutely."
I could tell she was stressing out over this, and I wanted to relieve the
pressure, but there wasn't anything I could do besides play along.
She took a deep breath.
"My mom wants to move in with Dennis. She doesn't want to take me out of
school the last semester, and I have no intention of changing schools this
late anyway. Which basically means I either commute with her, which would be
a royal pain in the ass . . . or I stay here. Which I can't do, unless . . ."
"You move in with me?"
She looked at me, pain in her face.
"Yeah."
I tried to put on a look of thinking hard about it.
"Don't feel like you're being pressured, or anything," she said. "It's
totally up to you."
"Do you want to do this? I mean, you're here half the week as it is, but I
don't want you to do this just because your mom is moving."
"I know."
"If you're okay with this, if you feel up to it, you're welcome to stay here.
I'd love to have you around more often."
"You would?"
"Of course. Why wouldn't I? Living alone sucks. And I love you. I just
want you to be sure you're ready for this. I lived with someone for ten
years, so I know what's involved, but you're pretty young to be doing this. I
don't want to screw up what we have just because your mother is moving in with
her boyfriend."
"I don't want to live with Dennis. He's okay, but . . ."
"Yeah."
"I love you so much, but this is such a big step."
"Think about it. You don't have to decide tonight."
She leaned over and hugged me.
"Thanks. You're the most wonderful guy in the world."
"No problem."
She sat back, took another deep breath, and smiled.
"And now, since I'm eighteen, and we can do this without breaking the law, I
want you take me to bed this instant."
She didn't have to ask me twice.
"That felt different somehow," she said afterward. "I don't know how, but it
did."
She rolled over onto my chest.
"No more looking over your shoulder."
"Or yours," she said smiling. "Most of the time, I'm looking over your
shoulder when we do it."
She sighed.
"I'm going to do this. I want to move in with you."
"Okay. You're here. There's only one condition."
"What?"
"If you're moving in here, it's as my girlfriend, not my daughter. That
means you have to behave like an adult and carry your end of the household
stuff. Don't make me have to remind you of things you should know on your
own. I know we haven't ever had any problems like that, but I don't want to
start now."
"I'll try. I understand."
X.
Beth and I were working in the library Monday morning. Our friendship had
gotten a little strained that fall, but she had started being friendlier with
me lately.
"So, I hear you're legal now."
"Yeah."
"Well, congratulations on dodging the bullet."
I gave her a brief look, but didn't say anything.
"Um, I was thinking, would the two of you like to come over for dinner on
Friday?"
It took me a second or two to respond to that.
"At your place?"
"With me and Rick. Just something casual."
"This is something of a change."
"I know. I was just starting to feel bad about giving you so much crap about
this. It's none of my business who you date. It's not like you dumped your
wife for her or anything."
"Well, I'll mention it to Tracey."
"Okay. It's just an idea."
"You know I can't stand Beth Meyer."
"It's an olive branch. She feels bad about razzing me about this so much
this fall. Be an adult and take it."
Silence came over the line for a few seconds.
"Okay. But if she makes a single crack about my age, I'm walking out the
door."
"Just try to get along with her. I have work with her, remember."
"I'll try. For you."
I came home that Friday to find her in the bedroom with a pile of clothes on
my bed.
"I'm just moving some of my clothes over here," came the voice from the
closet. "So I have more to wear, like for tonight."
She wasn't going to move in completely until just before Christmas, since her
mother wasn't moving in with Dennis until the end of the month, but my closet
was half-empty, so it hardly mattered.
"Have you mentioned this to any of your friends?"
"Have you?"
"No. But as far as work goes, I didn't figure it was really their business."
"Well, I told Rachel and Melissa. Rachel is getting more normal about this,
and was like, 'Oh. Okay.' But Melissa told me her mom is really getting on
her about hanging out with me. Like I'm a bad influence or something."
"I'm sorry."
She came out of the closet and flopped onto the bed.
"I can deal. Don't worry about it."
I leaned over and kissed her. She rolled over and stared at the ceiling.
"I was thinking, don't take this the wrong way, but this place is kind of
dull. I want to liven it up a little, decorate, you know?"
I started laughing.
"I knew this was going to happen."
"Do you mind? I mean, you walk in here, and it practically shouts, 'Some guy
lives here by himself.' It is totally too masculine. It wouldn't kill you to
get some softer colors in here."
"Okay. Just don't get carried away with it."
I kissed her again, and she put her arms around me.
"When do we have to be at Beth's?" she asked a minute later.
"Seven or thereabouts."
She glanced at the clock. It was just after six.
"You'll have to wait until afterward. I have to get ready."
She got off the bed, and I lay back against the pillows to watch her dress.
She stripped out of her jeans and sweater and went into the bathroom in her
bra and panties. She brushed out her hair and washed her face, watching me in
the mirror watching her.
"You know one of the reasons I fell in love with you?" she asked about ten
minutes later as she poked around the closet.
"What?"
"Patience. You can sit there watching me walk around in my underwear without
getting an enormous hard-on and attacking me. No guy my age could do that."
I laughed.
"Half of it is age. I don't have quite the hormones I did at eighteen. But
you develop an appreciation for things like this. I like watching pretty
girls in their underwear."
"Well, but that's just it. You can enjoy this without having it become
overtly sexual."
She pulled on some nylons, and then a knee-length skirt and a red sweater.
She went back into the bathroom and finished up in a few minutes.
I kissed her on the nose when she was done.
"Beautiful as always."
She took a deep breath.
"Promise me this won't be awful."
"I'm sure Beth has good intentions. She wouldn't set this up just to do
something nasty. She's not like that."
"Okay. I'll do my best to be nice to her."
We got into my car and drove up the canyon to Irvine, where Beth shared a
townhouse with her boyfriend. She met us at the door with Rick, whom I had
met a couple of times before during office get-togethers. He was a
stockbroker in his thirties who worked in Newport Beach.
"Hi, come on in."
She shut the door behind us. The townhouse was only a few years old,
decorated with the sort of trendy, young professional-type furniture that I
had once co-owned with my ex-wife.
"Tracey, I guess you don't know Rick."
"Hi."
They shook hands.
"Nice to meet you," he said.
"How have you been?" Beth asked. "I guess I haven't seen you since this
summer."
"I'm okay."
"What would you guys like to drink? We have everything. Beer, wine,
whatever."
"A beer is fine," I said.
"I'll have some wine," Tracey said.
Beth glanced at me for second, but didn't say anything.
"Okay. Sure."
She went into the kitchen, and we followed Rick into the living room.
"How's the stock world?" I asked him.
"Insane, as usual. The market just seems to get more unpredictable ever
year. Especially with Asia the way it is, no one really knows what's going to
happen."
"I guess it's gone beyond the point where domestic issues dictate
everything."
"Totally. I mean, between the EU and Asia, what comes out of Washington
these days just doesn't have the same effect anymore. It used to be the
market would bounce around every time Alan Greenspan hitched up his pants, but
it's just not like that now. There's so much more money out there."
I glanced at Tracey, who looked a little distressed, and patted her on the
leg.
Beth came out with our drinks, and sat down next to Rick. Tracey took a
small sip from her glass and set it down.
"So, Tracey, are you still interested in becoming a lawyer, or did you wise
up after working with us this summer?"
"I don't know. Michael was trying to talk me out of it, too. It's a long
way off."
"I told her she should concentrate on her writing and make that decision
later."
"Do you like to write?"
She nodded.
"I'm probably going to major in English."
"Well, that's a good start. Where are you applying?"
Tracey glanced at me, and I could see the tension in her face.
"UCI and Cal State Fullerton. I decided I didn't want to move too far away."
"Well, UCI is a great school. I'm sure you'll get in."
"One of the guys I work with went to UCI," Rick said. "It's changed a lot in
the last ten years, though."
"All of Orange County has," I said. "The airport, if they ever build it, is
going to change things even more."
"Oh, I lie awake at night praying that won't happen," Beth said. "It's just
going to ruin the whole quality of life down here."
"The Marine F-18's are bad enough. They turn into their approach pattern not
too far from my house. They're pretty damn loud."
We got to talking about Orange County politics after that, and Tracey said
nothing unless Beth or Rick asked her a question. After about twenty minutes,
the dinner was almost ready, and we moved into the kitchen. Beth had poached
some halibut in wine and lemon juice, with asparagus and wild rice on the
side.
"So, how is your mom?" Beth asked Tracey. "I see her at work, but I don't
get to talk to her that much."
"She's moving in with her boyfriend at the end of the month. In Huntington
Beach."
My teeth went on edge, realizing where this was going.
"Oh. I've never met him. Is he nice?"
"He's okay. He's a lot like her."
"You won't mind living with him, then?"
Tracey glanced at me, and I nodded slightly. No use denying it.
"I'm not going with her."
"You're not?" She looked at me for a second. "What are you going to do?"
"I'm moving in with Michael. Just through the end of school. After that,
we'll see."
Beth tried to hide her surprise, but couldn't quite do it.
"Oh. Well. I guess that will be nice."
"Yeah."
Beth served the dinner, and we sat down out at the table. She tried to make
some small talk, but the tension remained. We finally got into a conversation
about the 2000 presidential race, but Tracey was as uncharacteristically quiet
as she had been earlier.
When dinner was over, I helped Beth with the dishes, and Tracey went to the
restroom.
"I'm sorry," she said. "I guess she doesn't really like me. It's my fault."
"Don't worry about it. You did your best. It's nobody's fault."
"She's really moving in with you?"
"Yeah. It was the thing with Marcy that precipitated it. But I think it
will work."
"She's nice. You guys do make a cute couple."
"Thanks."
We left a little while later.
"I'm sorry this was so difficult."
"I'm okay."
She looked out at the Canyon as we drove home.
"It wasn't Beth. I could tell she was trying to be nice to me."
"What was it, then?"
"I felt like such a fifth wheel. I didn't understand half the stuff you guys
were talking about. I wanted to participate, I just had no idea what to say.
And when I thought I did know what was going on, I was afraid of saying
something stupid."
I sighed.
"I don't know what the solution is."
"And you know, if we went out with my friends, the few I have left, I know
you would feel the same way. Do you think you could name the Hanson brothers
if your life depended on it?"
"No."
"I love you, I can't imagine my life without you, but this is a problem."
"We do have a lot in common."
"I know. But is gardening and writing enough? I mean, it's great we both
like 'Dawson's Creek,' but you're always laughing at stuff that isn't supposed
to be funny."
"I can't help it."
"And to be perfectly honest, I've always thought it a little weird that you
like that show."
"Why is it weird?"
"I don't understand what you get out of it."
"The writing is good, and the characters are interesting."
"Why are they interesting? You have absolutely zero in common with any of
them."
"I don't know. Maybe it just makes me remember how it was when I was that
age."
She was silent a few moments.
"Do you get off on the fact that I'm only eighteen?"
I took a deep breath.
"Maybe in the beginning. But I see you as a whole person now, and I love
you."
She turned and stared at me.
"Do you mean that? I mean, the hair thing I can deal with, it's funny, but
this is something else."
"Why is it something else? Do you get off on the fact that I'm thirty-two?
I mean, it's never quite escaped my notice that you haven't seen your father
since you were ten."
"Oh. That is so out of line. Take that back right now."
"Come on. You practically accused me of being a pedophile five seconds ago."
"That is not what I meant."
"What did you mean?"
She turned away from me and wiped her eyes.
"Okay. So, maybe, just a little, I'm transferring the fact that I miss my
dad onto you. I do get some things from you that I never got from him. But I
do not see you as my father. That is so sick."
"That isn't what I meant either."
"Well, that's my explanation. What's yours?"
I sighed.
"This is hard to explain. I wouldn't have understood it when I was your age.
When I was twenty, I broke up with a girl who was sixteen, even though she was
cute and nuts about me, because I thought she was too young for me."
"Jennifer?"
I shot my head around.
"How-"
"You kept her letters. They were in that box. I always wondered about
that."
"Well, yes, that was her. It's just that you grow up always thinking you're
going to be young, thinking of yourself that way, and identifying with the
idea of youth, and then you wake up one morning, and you're married, you have
a steady job and a house and a lot of responsibilities, and you wonder where
all the time went. I had a very dull adolescence. I didn't date at all. Now
I look back on it all, and realize all the stupid things I did and all the
opportunities I missed, and I wish I could get it back."
"Michael, adolescence isn't like 'Dawson's Creek' any more than lawyering is
like 'Ally McBeal.' Nobody lives like that. I love that show, but sometimes
I wonder where the hell the ideas and dialogue are coming from."
"I realize that."
"I don't think you do. Do you really think any of us have a clue what we're
doing, any more than you did at our age? God, half the reason I love you is
because you give me some direction in life. Because you know who you are and
where you want to go. Why the hell would you want to be seventeen again?
Being seventeen sucks. I know. I just left it behind and God knows I never
want to go back. You probably felt the same way at eighteen, you just don't
remember it."
"Actually, I do."
"So, what's the problem? You're not old. Fifty is old, and you won't hit
that for twenty years."
She took my hand and squeezed it.
"It's all right if I make you feel young again, however stupid that sounds.
You make me feel about twenty-five half the time I'm with you. I'm sorry
about tonight. I know we can make this work. We just have to meet in the
middle somewhere."
"I have an idea."
"What?"
"We could devote an hour or two a week to trying to bridge this gap. You can
explain to me what the deal is with Hanson, and I can explain to you who Alan
Greenspan is."
"Okay. That's a good idea. Let's do it."
She pulled my hand into her lap, and leaned against my shoulder. When I got
to the house, I thought, I live here with her. This is our place now. It
felt better than I expected.
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