The Death of Love in Morristown
Chapter 2: The Visitor

Copyright© 2011 by Celtic Bard

The drive to Newark Liberty International Airport is a straight shot down 24 to I-78. There are other roads that are quicker at certain times of the day, but it was getting late and the simplest route would do. As soon as we got on 24 I adjusted my rear view mirror so I could see Alexandra's face and asked, "So why was practice really cancelled? And don't give me the story you sold to Ilsa either. She said you turned redder than Sean after a day at the shore."

She glanced down and blushed, making me sure the next words out of her mouth would be a lie to cover up something she found mortifyingly embarrassing. "Honest, Mom! What I told Ilsa was the truth!" I could almost see the halo and white, fluffy wings sprout, she looked so virtuous.

I simply snorted derisively. "Alexandra, when was the last time you lied to me or tried to hide something from me and were actually successful for very long?" I inquired, my tone lightly inquisitive. "While you are trying to think of something, tell me what you are leaving out of your story."

I heard a world-weary sigh and a muffled chuckle. As I speared Sean with my gaze through the mirror, Alex's face reappeared. "Coach Haverstaam really did have an appointment, Mom. It was an appointment ... with her wife ... with an adoption lawyer," she said in a hushed voice, the blush blazing in the intermittent light from the street lights and occasional passing car.

I was, to be honest, shocked. Lillian Haverstaam is a handsome woman in her late thirties with the body of a gymnast. It never would have occurred to me that she was gay, never mind had a partner and was trying to adopt a baby. "I ... see," was what slithered out of my usually more controlled mouth in a tone that was almost puzzled. "And I take it you did not know she was a lesbian either?"

Alex shook her head vehemently. "No, Mom! I swear! I mean, it would have made showers after practice a little weirder, knowing she could walk in at any minute," she admitted honestly. Then she stiffened and blurted out, "Not that she ever did, Mom! Honest! Coach Janisky comes in sometimes when she showers after practice and gets all sweaty helping us with our routines, but never Coach Haverstaam."

After she said that a weird look crept onto her face and I knew what she was thinking now. "I can assure you that Heather Janisky is straight, Alex. Her husband is a very strapping young man who was a tailback at the same college Coach Janisky went to. That was how they met," I told her, knowing she was thinking about trying to shower with her brother in the same room. That thought almost got me giggling because I was never sure Sean was even aware there was a difference between boys and girls. His response to Shameera's first visit to the house was unique in his reactions to females and could have easily have been in response to his recognizing she was from southern or southwestern Asia. He had nightmares for months after 9/11, even though he was very young and I am still not sure how much he really remembered and how much was simply him reacting to the emotions of those around him.

Anyway, the interrogation over, the rest of the ride was occupied by the mundane catching up on what happened at work/school and plans for the weekend.

 
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