"I think there's a few," Ruby answered respectfully.
"Well, anyway, that was around the time of the war. Camp Greene was over on the west side." She looked at me and winked. "Many a young Charlotte girl was courted by a pilot trainee from the camp."
"Grandma," I acted shocked. "Did you date a pilot?"
"Lord no, I was way too young. I couldn't have been more than six or seven."
Ruby brought her back on track. "What about Daddy and Mama courting in Latta Park?"
"Oh, yes. Erwin must have been fifteen and smitten with Rebecca. She walked by every day while this house was being built to see him. In the late evening, he would go to her house to sit on the swing or walk to the park or ride on the trolley." She thought fora moment. "Do you know the trolley is running again?"
"Yes, ma'am," I answered.
"Us kids loved riding the trolley downtown with Papa and Mama. They took us to our first movie at the Academy-seems like it was about the Confederates and Yankees, and about the Klan saving a family from the Negroes."
"What?" I couldn't believe I heard her right. "The first movie Great-Grandpa Ernest took you to was Birth of a Nation?" I had seen clips of the historic film in a class I'd taken in San Francisco; technically, a groundbreaking film because of the director's innovations, but the subject matter was pure anti-black propaganda. "Birth of a Nation," I repeated, not believing my great-grandfather would have taken his children to it.
"Scared the you-know-what out of me," she giggled. "I was sure a black man would grab me before we got back home, but Papa assured me that his friends-"
"Aunt Eleanor," Ruby interrupted. "Did you know that Mark and Kathleen have asked Derek to come to their house for dinner tonight? Derek and Mark always got along so well when they were younger. I'm glad they're still friends." She took a breath and continued, "And Derek will be here for a few days. He's been such a help to me. He mowed the lawn. We're going to replant the-" She turned to look back toward the door. "Oh, hi, Gladys."
Every muscle in my body tensed at the sight of my mother; I stood up quickly, ready for a fight.
Her eyes took in the three of us in quick jerky movements. "Mother, what nonsense have you been boring Derek and Ruby with?"
"Just talking about Papa and this house. What nonsense should I bore them with?" Grandma shot back, "I can always talk about you-that should bore them. Leave us alone, Valerie."
"Mother, I'm Gladys," she corrected.
"I know." Grandma seemed to be getting tired.
Ruby pushed herself out of the chair and grabbed my hand. "We should be leaving." She pulled me toward the door. "Goodbye, Aunt Eleanor. Bye, Gladys."
I wanted to stay and hear Grandma zing the Bitch again, but Ruby insisted on our leaving. I hugged Grandma and said, "I'll see you later. I love you."
She squeezed my hand and smiled.
I walked past Gladys without speaking.
I DROVE DOWNTOWN to Mark's condo in the TransAmerica building on Church Street. The building took up an entire city block; offices and restaurants faced Tryon Street, and the residential part lined Church Street. The building encircled a courtyard of fountains and sculptures. Even at eight o'clock on a Monday night, people still lingered in this space. I found Mark's condo on the top floor; a shimmering green marble hall echoed my footsteps as I approached the door. Sweat broke out on my upper lip, and I wiped it away before ringing the bell.
"Hey, Derek." Mark shook my hand with a firm grip and slapped me on the shoulder in the tradition of straight male bonding.
I wasn't sure what kind of home I had expected, but this one overwhelmed me. The columned foyer continued the marble flooring and led to a living area that soared two stories; floor-to-ceiling windows framed a view of the Charlotte skyline and Crowder's Mountain in the far distance with the last of the crimson sunset flowing on the horizon. Huge leather couches, a mahogany armoire, and flat-panel television on the wall caught my attention before I saw her. Kathleen stood in the doorway to the kitchen, wiping her hands on a kitchen towel. My God, I thought, it's the Junior Leaguer from Hell-heels, little black dress, gray pearls, and a silver Neiman Marcus-logo apron.
Mark guided me toward her. "Derek, this is Kathleen."
She extended her right hand, fingers drooping a little; I didn't know if I should shake it or kiss it. I reached out and held her delicate hand with both of mine, no shaking. "It's so nice to meet you, Kathleen. I wondered what kind of woman could tame this tiger."
She giggled, "Oh, Mark's a dear."
I giggled back, "Yes, he is."
She smiled.
I smiled.
Mark smiled.
"So," I began, "I see by the apron you've been cooking. You really didn't need to go to all that trouble."
"No trouble at all." Kathleen hugged Mark's arm. "We love working in the kitchen."
"You mean cooking?" I asked.
"Yes, exactly." She rubbed Mark's stomach. "Mark is getting so fat; he's losing all definition in his abs."
Mark pulled away from her. "I'll get drinks."
Fat? Mark appeared in prime shape to me. I scrutinized Kathleen; her black hair hung to her shoulders in sleek perfection; pale emerald eyes stared from beneath a long canopy of lashes; her thin face held no lines; her plunging neckline revealed her breastbone- no cleavage, her tits seemed no more than nipples. Her champagne-flute figure complemented their stylish penthouse decor.
"Mark looks like he's holding up well. How long have you been in Charlotte?" I asked her.
"Since college. We met at Duke. I'm from Charlottesville, Virginia. You know, where the University of Virginia is?"
"What made you choose Duke over UVA?" I asked, but didn't really care.
"My mother was a Delta Zeta at Duke when she met my father; I wanted to continue the tradition." She reached for a boiling pot on the stove, lifting her right leg as she leaned in. "Hope you like spaghetti, it's my specialty."
"Sounds wonderful," I lied.
Mark sat the wine glasses on the coffee table. "Come have a seat; Kathleen will be a little while."
"Yes," she insisted, "you boys relax. I'll be there in a jiffy."
Damn, why this walking, talking mannequin? I took a gulp of the wine before sitting down across from Mark.
"It's a Chianti. We bought a case when we went to Tuscany two years ago." He waited for me to say something.
"Nice," I took a sip this time, "very dry."
"Derek, how long do you intend to stay?" Mark asked.
"Not long." I took another sip of wine. "I just wanted to spend some time with Ruby."
Silence fell between us. I listened to Kathleen's high heels clicking across the kitchen tile.
"Dad's running for Senate." Mark smiled.
"I heard that. Democrat or Republican? Oh, dumb question, Uncle Vernon was always a big Jesse Helms supporter. So, who is he scaring the public with to get into office: welfare mothers, liberal democrats, social security fraud, released prisoners, gays?"
His look told me that "gay" had never been said in his palace. "His platform is to reform the tax system."
I took another swig of wine, and my head swirled like the wine settling back in the glass. "Great platform-a millionaire wanting to cut taxes. So, who's he going to cut funding from?" I counted on my fingers, "Welfare, education, the arts, AIDS research…"
"Maybe we shouldn't talk politics. Tell me about California." He filled up my glass again.
"I live in the Castro district with my roommate, Emma. Strictly platonic, if you know what I mean. She's a model." I leaned in and whispered, "Frankly, she's anorexic and just a couple pounds heavier than Kathleen."