“No, big guy, not until tomorrow. You only get one at a time, you know that.”
The look on his face never wavered. It reminded Alex of the stern way her father had always looked at her when she was in trouble. She sighed. Appleby seemed to be reminding her that she’d been gone a very long time, and he’d been very patient. After a minute, she sighed again and reached back in the cabinet.
After two more treats, Appleby seemed somewhat mollified, and Alex felt safe leaving the kitchen. She snagged an almost empty bottle of wine from the fridge and headed back into her bedroom. Appleby settled near the foot of the bed, and started washing his face with his paws. Alex gave him a fond look and a scratch on the head before climbing onto the bed herself, crackers and wine in hand.
Alex’s bedroom was a study in organized chaos. Across from the door, and directly under the window, a short bookcase was crammed to overflowing. On top of the bookcase, even more books and magazines threatened to block out any light that might try to come in the window. To the left of the bookcase, there was a similarly disorganized and crowded nightstand, which was pushed up against a neatly made bed. To the right of the bookcase, a Macintosh G4 computer covered half the surface of a nearly clean desk. While her dirty clothes from her trip had been tossed into a pile at the foot of the bed, her laptop and papers had been neatly placed, with her briefcase sitting on the floor between the desk and the printer stand.
Placing the bottle on the bedside table, Alex reached to the bottom shelf of her nightstand and hit the button for her phone messages. She propped up her pillows and leaned back, closing her eyes as the long day began to catch up to her.
The first message was from her mother, reminding her that she had promised to go home for Passover in April. Alex’s family was Jewish, and while they knew she no longer practiced the faith, they did expect her to join them for such important celebrations. For a long time, Alex hadn’t minded, but since her father had passed away two years ago, visits home hadn’t been the same.
Even though her father had never understood Alex’s love of women, he had always accepted her as she was. His own childhood, which had been filled with the terror of the Holocaust, had made Aaron Reis understand how important family was. His parents had died at the hands of the Nazi’s, and Aaron’s uncle had taken his seven year old nephew with him when he escaped Prague. From there they had wound a criss-cross path through Europe, finally finding their way to Greece. From Greece they, and a few hundred others, immigrated to the United States. The journey through a war torn Europe had never been discussed between Aaron and his daughter. For him, it was something he never wanted to burden her with. For Alex’s part, she never wanted to make him remember the horrors of that time.
After his daughter had been born, Aaron had made a deal with the Maker of the Universe, and he was quick to remind Alex of it.The agreement was that if the Creator would keep Alex safe, Aaron would work to fight discrimination in all its forms. He had been a member of many activist groups, faithfully paying dues even if it meant going without a few luxury items. His wife, Errita, had never completely understood her husband’s insistence on this point; then again, her family had lived in Greece, and had escaped the worst parts of the Holocaust. They, too, had immigrated to the U.S., coming over on the same ship as Aaron’s family, but their move had been more from choice, than from fear. Errita’s family had settled in Chicago, not far from Aaron and his uncle. Despite the six year difference in their ages, Aaron and Errita had fallen in love, and they had married when Errita was twenty. Ten years and two miscarriages later, Alexia Edrea Reis had been born.
Errita had always thought her husband was spoiling Alex, and when she came out to them as a lesbian at fifteen, she was certain that Aaron was to blame. It had caused a split in the home that Alex regretted to this day. When Alex came home with her first broken heart, her mother had patted her and told her she’d live. It had been Aaron who held her while she cried on his shoulder.She had always been closer to her father, but her love for her mother was still very strong. It had been painful for Alex. While the two women still lived in the same house, they acted more like roommates, than mother and daughter.
Aaron died of a stroke in 1998. Alex had already been living in Washington, but she had been a steady visitor home, always making time to be with her parents. After her father died, however, the battles with her mother became more frequent. They couldn’t find a way to bridge their differences, and finally, the two had just stopped trying. While Alex still loved Chicago, and her mother, it was harder and harder to get through family occasions without fights erupting over her lack of religion, her job, or her sexual orientation.
She sighed. Still, the Passover had always been a special time for her and her father, and he would want her there. She knew he’d be there, even if it was just in spirit. Alex also realized that her mother had cared enough to make the invitation. She cared too, and she’d be in Chicago in April.
The second message on the machine was from Sarah Mahoney.
“Hi, Alex. Listen, I didn’t think you’d get home early enough to have a decent meal, so there’s a plate of lasagna in the fridge for you. No going to bed without food.” Alex smiled. She’d eaten with David on the way home from the airport, but the lasagna would make a good enough breakfast. “I should tell you that spaz cat managed to lose his collar again. He hates that bell, you know.” Damn, she hadn’t even noticed. “And yes, he’s still jumping from the bookcase as people come in the door. Maggie had to feed him for me last week, and he pulled that surprise on her. She said she’ll never go into your place without an umbrella again.” Alex had to smile at that. The phrase ‘it’s raining cats’ drifted through her mind, forcing a chuckle out of her. “Oh, yeah, before I forget. You’re having dinner at our place on Thursday night. No, this is not an invitation; I know better than to give you a chance to say no. So, be there, seven o’clock. And yes, there will be four of us. Sorry, sweetheart, I know you don’t like it when I try to set you up, but as the best friend, not to mention ex-girlfriend, it is my prerogative. Love you, Alexia.”
The third message was a computerized voice asking if she’d thought about vinyl siding for her house.
“Damn, glad I called to pick up the messages while I was gone. I probably would have spent an hour listening to people offer me mortgages and improvements for the house I don’t own.”
She uncorked the bottle and drained it in a few swallows. Appleby crawled up on her chest to swat at the cork, and Alex stroked his white and orange fur. “So, you just had to go and scare Aunt Maggie, huh? You know, she’s the one who gave you that catnip toy at Christmas, so you better be nice.” She felt around his neck, where a slight discoloration marked the location his collar normally sat. “How do you keep pulling that off? I know you don’t like the bell, but that’s the only way I have of warning people when you do your bookcase leap. So I’m just gonna keep putting it back on, until you stop this raining cats stuff, okay?” Appleby swatted the cork away from her hand, his tail twitching.
“Yeah, I’m glad we had this talk, too.”
Idly petting Appleby, Alex thought back to the time Sarah would be waiting for her to come home. The two had met at a neighborhood Fourth of July picnic in 1997, and had spent the rest of that summer exploring the area in and around Washington. Sarah had taken Alex to all the museums, and the historic landmarks, while Alex had taken Sarah to Baltimore for a White Sox — Orioles game. During a weeks vacation, they decided to save the money and spend the week visiting the National Archives together. Sarah had used the time to research her family history, reading through ship manifests and immigration lists. Alex, on the other hand, spent those several days reading through boxes of material on the Kennedy assassination. The two had laughed at themselves, realizing if they didn’t go there together, and leave together, they never would have crossed paths at the Archives.