Going Home Part 5

"What's it look like? Brushing my hair, you dopey."

"The h.e.l.l you are. I don't give a s.h.i.t about g.a.n.g.b.a.n.gs, but I brought my orgy home. . . . Come here, you, let me do that." He stood up and met me halfway across the room, his hands already stretched toward me to peel off my clothes. I unb.u.t.toned his shirt as he did mine, and then we stood there chest to chest, the smoothness of our skin met and melted into one, as my slacks came off in unison with his, and his whole body seemed to enter mine.

7.

Hey . . . Chris . . . it's getting light outside. And you didn't get any sleep." I felt faintly guilty about that, but not very.

"I'm not complaining. Are you? But I've got to get to work soon. We start at six." It was already five. "Let's get dressed and go outside. I want to see the sun come up."

"So do I." But inside me, it already had. We climbed back into our clothes which still lay in a jumble on the floor and walked outside to sit on the tiny patch of lawn in front of where I lived. It was chilly and the ground was damp, but it felt good as we sat there and watched the sun come up over the East Bay.

"No fog today. That'll be good for my shooting. Want to come watch?"

"I'd love it, but I don't think I can. I've got to get Sam to school, and I've got a shooting at ten. Textile stuff. They're shooting just the fabrics somewhere outside first, and then we do the models at ten. At the Opera House yet. It sounds like fun."

"Of course it does . . . who do you think's doing the camera work?" He looked amused as he grabbed my hair and pulled it back so he could kiss me. "Hey . . . are you on that job?"

"Who do you think recommended you?" He tried to look pompous.

"Bulls.h.i.t you did. They told me Joe Tramino gave them my name, you big phoney."

"Well, okay . . . but I told them you were a great stylist."

"After I had the job."

"After you had the job. Boy, the ego of some women."

"Not to mention some men. . . . I'm glad we'll be working together. Think we can ride a horse across the orchestra pit and down Van Ness?"

"We can try . . . baby, we can always try." He rolled his body onto mine on the wet gra.s.s and we lay there smiling for a moment in the early morning sun. "I gotta go, Gill. I'll see you at work."

"That's the most unusual morning good-bye this neighborhood has ever seen, Chris Matthews. But I like it."

"Good, because it isn't the last. And this neighborhood can't do a G.o.ddam thing about it if they don't like it."

"They could evict me." I was feeling playful and I walked him to the truck.

"We'll talk about that sometime . . . but not just yet." He slammed the door to the truck, put it into gear, and I wondered what he had meant as he drove away. Whatever he had meant, it would be fun to work with him that day, and it was nice to know that the head of the film crew would be at as great a disadvantage as I. I knew exactly what he'd been doing the night before. And neither of us had had a moment's sleep. To h.e.l.l with the Clay Street orgy. Chris and I had had our own.

I arrived at the Opera House at exactly ten o'clock, stood back to look at its splendor for a moment before going in, and then smiled. It looked like a funny place for Chris.

I went in the stage door, and was told where to go, and arrived somewhere behind the stage to look at the clothes and props I'd picked out the day before, and check in with the agency people who seemed pleased with what I'd dug up. It was going to be a pretty shooting.

They had seven of San Francisco's top models and three they'd imported from Los Angeles for the day. They were beautiful girls and the clothes they were going to wear in the commercial we were filming were superb. Everything from evening clothes to beach wear to show off some new man-made fiber.

I a.s.signed the appropriate clothes and accessories to each girl and then went off to find Chris. It didn't take long. He and his crew were lying in the string section of the orchestra pit, eating tacos and salami sandwiches and drinking cherry soda.

"Breakfast or lunch? Hi, boys."

"Neither. This is just between the two. Come on down and have a bite." Chris looked wicked for the briefest second, and then looked pleased with his double entendre. It made me wonder how little or how much he wanted his crew to know. I suspected less than more. And I was glad . . . I didn't want Joe Tramino to offer his condolences quite yet. Not till we were sure.

I hopped into the pit, landed on my feet near Chris, and then sat down to guzzle cherry soda and munch on tacos.

"You know what, boys? This stuff is disgusting. Blyergh."

"You know what? She's right." Everyone looked pleased to agree, and we went on eating happily until they told us the models and the scenery were ready to go. We had been allowed the use of some of the opera's stage props for the day, and it was fun to see it all from backstage. As I stood in the wings, checking each girl as she went out, and watching for lack of continuity as girls went out for a second or third time in the same clothes, I looked towards the Boxes, and the Grand Tier, and wondered what it would be like to sing to them . . . or to be in the audience again on the sn.o.bby, social nights when everyone would wear white tie and tails. Those days were so far behind me, it was funny to think of them.

"Whatcha thinking about, Gill?'

"Nothing much. What are you doing back here?"

"We're all through."

"Already? It's only . . ." I looked at my watch and gasped. It was four-fifteen.

"That's right. We've been working six hours straight. Let's go pick up Sam and put in some beach time at the Marina."

"Yes, boss." I saluted sharply, and we left hand in hand.

The day of working with him had flown. This time there had been no crazy escapades, just a lot of hard work. And stolen kisses in the pit.

We picked up Sam and wandered over to the beach where she chased sea gulls and we played word games in the sand until the sun began to fade.

"Sam, time to go home!" She was far down the beach and had other things in mind. But Chris changed it for her quickly.

"Come on, podner, I'll give you a ride."

"Okay, Uncle Crits." She galloped down the beach to meet us, hopped on Chris's back, and I watched them hobble home. The child and the man I loved . . . Samantha Forrester and her "horse." My man.

"What are you doing today, Gill? Any work come up?" He had been staying with us every night for a week, and breakfast a trois had become an ordinary thing. It looked routine, but it felt like Christmas to me every day.

"Nope. How about going out to Stinson, Chris? We could take Sam after school."

"Can't. I've got a job today at three. Another cigarette job."

"That's nice. I'll do stuff here. Will you be home for dinner?" That was the first time I had asked him that, and I held my breath.

"Maybe not. We'll see."

I did. He wasn't. He was gone for two days, and when he reappeared on Thursday there was nothing to show that he'd been gone. He looked and sounded the same, but he had left a tiny dent in my heart. Not to mention Sam. I had finally decided that if he didn't show up by the end of the week I was going to use her much dreamt of trick and tie her to a chair and gag her. I couldn't stand the questions anymore.

I wanted to ask him where he'd been but I didn't dare. I made hamburgers and French fries and we all went to Swensen's on Hyde Street after dinner. They had the best ice cream in town.

"Want to take a ride on the cable car, Sam?" She was dripping strawberry, and we were dripping rocky road. We had made the appropriate choice.

"A cable car ride? Wow!" And so it was. We hopped on when it came by and reeled down toward Fisherman's Wharf where Chris bought her a painted turtle. How can you stay mad at a man like that? He ran around us playfully like a big dog, kissed me back into a feeling of almost-security, and further seduced Sam. By the time we got home we were a solid trio again and all was well. Almost.

"Want to go to Bolinas tomorrow, Gill?" We were lying in bed and the lights were out.

"Let's see what the weather's doing." I wasn't sure.

"Don't be a grump, Miss Gillian. I meant for the weekend. I got someone to lend me their shack till Monday."

"You did?" I was pleased. "That would be nice."

"That's what I thought. And now, stop being grumpy. I'm back, and I love you." He kissed my neck and put a hand gently across my lips to silence them, and we lost another night of sleep. But we won each other back.

The weekend in Bolinas was lovely. The shack which someone had lent him was almost that, but not quite. It was a small two-bedroom house buried in the woods. We went to the beach every day, had dinner at the Watson House one night, and the rest of the time spent quiet evenings at home. There was a marvelous aura of peace about the few days we spent there. San Francisco seemed quiet to me after New York, but the time in Bolinas even managed to make San Francisco seem too busy. There was a golden stillness to those days. And I was sorry to leave on Monday .

The week following the Bolinas weekend was busy. I got another job from Carson, but Chris wasn't on it this time; he had other things to do. He came to dinner with us in the evenings though, and most of the time he spent the night. He vanished again that weekend but reappeared Sunday night and never left us for a week after that. It was a bit strange the way he came and went, but I got used to it, and everything was rolling smoothly.

We were unbelievably happy together, and I got to the point where I didn't even mind his disappearances-they gave me some time to myself and I needed that too.

The weeks rolled by and I realized at the end of May that we had spent two months together, which seemed more like two years. I had become a combination wife-mother-girl friend-pal to Chris Matthews and I could no longer imagine a time when I hadn't known him. He was my best friend, and the man I loved. And he was always fun to be with. There was a selfishness about him too-he never did anything he didn't want to do, he couldn't be pressed into anything-but I didn't try. I understood his ways, and I accepted them. In many ways I felt older than he, but I had led a different life. And I had Sam to make me feel grownup. He'd never had anything like that. He only had Chris Matthews to think of and, when he felt like it, me.

We were lying under a tree in the park one Thursday morning, with nothing much to do except enjoy the world and love each other, and I remembered that Memorial Day weekend was that week. Not that it changed things for us a great deal-almost every weekend we had was a long one, unless one of us had a job on Monday, which was never sure for either of us.

"What are you doing this weekend, Chris? It's a holiday."

"Yeah. I guess it is. I'm moving out of town as a matter of fact."

"Very funny. But I get the message. I was just asking." I picked a blade of gra.s.s next to where we lay and tickled the side of his face with it, wondering when he'd get rid of the girl he lived with. He hadn't yet.

"I wasn't kidding, Gill. I am moving. Out to Bolinas for the summer. Want to come?"

"Are you kidding or are you for real?" This was the first I'd heard of it, other than vague mention two months back that he usually spent his summers in Bolinas. But with Chris very little was "usual" and nothing ever seemed to be planned.

"I'm for real. I thought I'd move out tomorrow or Sat.u.r.day. I meant to tell you. Why don't you and Sam come and stay?"

"And after that? She's already so attached to you, Chris, if she gets used to having you around all the time it's going to really hurt when we come back to this. She's already had that once, with her father . . . I don't know. . . ."

"Don't be so stuffy. She'll be happy with us, and you said you were going to send her East to see him anyway, so that'll wean her off me." . . . But what about me? . . . "When's she going to see him?"

"Middle of July till the end of August. Roughly six weeks."

"Okay. So what's the sweat? She'll spend six weeks with us and six weeks with him. And we can be alone for a while . . . Gill, please . . . I'd really like you to." He turned to me with the expression of a starving, lonely child, and my heart melted. I didn't know whether to laugh or jump at the chance. It would be so nice to live with Chris . . . but what then?

"We'll see . . . anyway, what would I do about work?" That was a lame reason not to do it, and we both knew it.

"Don't be a jerk. I work out of Bolinas, so can you. There's a phone over there. You'll get your calls . . . oh h.e.l.l, if you don't want to, screw it." Suddenly I was the bad guy, and he was hurt. But he hadn't even told me he was moving. That was so like Chris.

"I want to, I want to, for chrissake . . . okay, I'll come. I'm just afraid I'll get used to you that's all. Can't you try and understand that? I love you, Chris, and I want to live with you, but when we come back to San Francisco at the end of the summer I go back to my place and you go back to your roommate." I hadn't mentioned it in a long time.

"As a matter of fact, Gill, you're wrong. She's moving out next week or something. I gave her notice."

"You did? She is? . . . Hey . . . wow!"

"That's right, little lady. Wow. And I thought that if it works out this summer you and Sam could move in with me in September. The house is big enough for all of us." . . . But what about your heart, Chris? . . . It was a dumb thing to think. I knew he loved us. And I was thrilled the girl was leaving . . . at last.

"Chris Matthews, do you know what? . . . I love you. And Bolinas is going to be super. Take me home, I want to pack."

"Yes ma'am. At your service."

It dawned on me as we drove back to the Marina that I had never seen his house in the city. I knew it was on Sacramento Street, but that was all. I had a sudden urge to see it, to take a long drunken look at the place where we would live in the fall, but that could wait. He had said "if it works out this summer." But why shouldn't it? I couldn't see any reason why it shouldn't. No reason at all.

8.

Chris! . . . Sam! . . . Lunch is ready!" A large red enamel plate was buried under a dozen peanut b.u.t.ter and jelly sandwiches and a pitcher of milk stood next to it. We were going to eat under the big tree behind the tiny house Chris rented every summer, which had become our summer home. It was a gem. He had painted it the year before, and everything was a bright, sunny yellow, and there were splashes of color everywhere. It was simple and rustic, but comfortable, and it was close to the beach, which was all we needed.

"I'm coming, Mommy. Uncle Crits said he'd take me riding this afternoon." Samantha staggered to the lunch table under the weight of the cowboy holster Chris had given her and shoved a sandwich into her mouth with a look of satisfaction.

"You want to come too, Gill?"

"Sure." I looked over Sam's head at Chris for a long moment, and we shared a secret smile. Things were working out. Beautifully. We had been in Bolinas for a month, and it was like something out of a fairy tale. We went riding and swimming, we sat outside at night, and we were so in love with each other we could hardly see straight.

Sam was supposed to leave in two weeks to spend the rest of her vacation with Richard, and for once I felt less badly about Samantha leaving. I was looking forward to being alone with Chris. Even though I couldn't see how things could get any better than they were.

"Hey, Gill . . . what's the matter?" I suddenly felt ill, and it must have showed. My stomach rolled slowly toward my throat and then down again, in a kind of slow-motion roller coaster feeling.

"I don't know . . . must be something I ate."

"Peanut b.u.t.ter? Can't be. Maybe too much sun. Go lie down. I'll keep an eye on Sam." I followed his suggestion, and half an hour later I felt better. "You still want to ride with us, love?"

"Maybe I'll skip it. I'll go tomorrow."

"Oh s.h.i.t . . . I forgot to tell you. I'm going into town tonight. I have a job tomorrow."

"Lucky you." I hadn't had a job in almost three weeks. Summer was slowing things down. But it didn't matter much. We were living cheaply in Bolinas. "When will you be back?" It didn't make much difference, we never had any plans, and we were leading a lazy life.

"Tomorrow night, or the day after. It depends how long we take to shoot. This is a doc.u.mentary for the state." He smiled at me for a moment. "Don't worry, I'll be back."

"I'm glad to hear it."