Outing of the Heart (11 page)
Read Outing of the Heart Online
Authors: Lisa Ann Harper
âTenille. I said, “don't you think that would be a good idea?”' Furio's raised voice finally penetrated her cogitations.
âWhat? Oh sorry. I didn't hear you.'
âI could see that.' His temper was beginning to fray too. âI thought, maybe, when you've finished you might like to come up for a coffee. We could chat some more.'
âThanks, but no thanks. I've got too much to do today,' delivered shortly.
âPerhaps another time then?'
âYes, perhaps,' another curt response. On that note, she made her escape, as she felt it to be.
If she'd known there was to be an obnoxious son, she might have thought twice about the apartment. No she wouldn't. Once her door was closed she was very happy where she was. Later, after checking the coast was clear, she went back for the laundry.
âShouldn't have to do that,' a mumbled grumble. âStill, when needs must â¦' This was the last load. She filled the basket from the dryer then returned to her room to fold and put away. She was enjoying listening to the radio; appreciating its company. Margaret Visser was being interviewed regarding her books: Much Depends on Dinner and her latest, The Way We Are, an anthropological look at ordinary life. She could see vegetarians becoming a greater force to be reckoned with. All interesting stuff. There was a knock at the door. She groaned. If Furio was here again â¦
âPhone for you.'
She heaved a sigh of relief. Was she getting paranoid? She must learn to relax. He wasn't about to go anywhere. âThanks, Furio.' He left and she followed slowly.
âHi.' She thought it mighty be Devon, but it was Marissa.
âJust thought I'd call, see how you're settling in?'
âOh fine, thanks, Marissa.' It was very nice of her to take the time. âI'm just wading through my first pile of laundry. I don't mind though. I'm so pleased to be in my own place.'
âI know Serafina is glad to have you there, too. I also wanted to say how happy I am that you're dancing with us. I enjoy the sessions much more now. It's fun being your partner in the Sevillanas.'
Tenille was flattered, but Marissa's fulsomeness was overwhelming. It must be the Italian way, she surmised. Still, it was hard to handle, leaving her unsure what to say in return.
Marissa swallowed: âDo you have plans for today?'
There was a brief moment of silence, then she answered brightly: âAfter this I was thinking of taking in an art exhibition, otherwise, a lazy day.' She paused again. âWhy?'
Marissa's voice sounded strained this time. âWould you like some company? I don't have anything on.'
She had been looking forward to doing her
own thing
this afternoon, but she could hear a note of pleading in the voice. Was she a bit lonely? Anyway, she couldn't say no.
âCome along, by all means.'
They settled on a time and she told her how to find the Gallery. If she was going to be ready by two o'clock, she had better get her skates on. Suddenly time was running out and she'd not even showered. However, she could tell she had left Marissa with a beaming face and that was worth a lot.
Winter's winds were becoming bitter now. She had to bundle up with an extra sweater. The crisp, clear air, gave a sharp brilliance to the reflections from the unseeing gaze of the highrise windows. Outlines were hard edged. She looked up and saw how brittle the leafless trees appeared in their stark nakedness. She inhaled deeply. Other pedestrians looked fresh faced with reddened cheeks from that extra chilly nip; there was no warmth in the sun any more. It felt good to be alive and it would be fun to share her experiences with Marissa.
âMarissa. Have you been waiting long? You keep beating me to it.'
âNot long. Anyway, I don't mind. It was a relief to get out of the house.' She didn't care about any of that now. She was back with Tenille and that was all that mattered. She looked at her, felt this charismatic quality; a connection between them. Magic filled her soul. Her life felt changed, like when she listened to the choir on Sundays.
âProblems at home?'
âNo, nothing like that. Just a houseful of tiresome relatives. Sometimes I think Italian families are too extended.' She laughed with the pure pleasure of being with this woman again. âThere's a lot to be said for the North American nuclear set-up.'
Tenille liked the idea of the extended one, herself, but didn't say so. Instead she grabbed Marissa's arm. âLet's go in.'
The exhibition rewarded their efforts. The artist favored stylised, rotund, happy people doing quite the most unexpected activities: walking a tightrope: ballet dancing. They were so jolly; she had a way with her characters.
Afterwards it was on to a little Café-bar that Marissa knew and each enjoyed a savory, puff pastry parcel. Tenille's filling was a mixture of sweet potato, pumpkin and vintage cheese; Marissa's, chicken, broccoli and Camembert. Both were served with sour cream and garnished with mesclun, a little radicchio and watercress sprouts in a lemon dressing. This time they drank mocha coffees and indulged themselves with a slice of Cappuccino Cream, Bavarian cheesecake. Where they found the space amazed them. Tenille felt she might never eat again. By the time they left it was dark.
âThis was so much fun,' Marissa gushed: âI hope we can do it again.' Tenille had been very happy today too and readily agreed. âWell, I'll see you Tuesday.'
They parted company at the Cumberland entrance to Bay Subway. Tenille headed back briskly, her thoughts turning toward Christmas shopping. All these festively decorated store windows. They made them look so attractive; so wealthy too, she reflected. Poor people would have a hard time trying to emulate all that opulence. Christmas was a difficult season for the less fortunate.
“We should count our blessings and not become complacent,”
she mused. She would use this week to get herself organized. She must get out to Scarborough Bluffs ⦠look for something for Devon's party: time was running out. She had better phone her mom too. She knew she wouldn't be pleased, but as Devon had said, one day couldn't hurt. Yes, she would phone as soon as she got in; get it over and done with.
*Â Â Â *Â Â Â *
It was the last week before break up. Tenille was feeling well satisfied with her efforts, having accomplished all she had set herself. For some of the gifts she had been positively inspired. Her visit to the Bluffs had been a real treat. Carmel and Roger would be spending their vacation with Russell and the new granddaughter. Carmel couldn't wait.
The living room had looked spectacular. Cedar boughs with pine cones and red ribbon decorated the picture rails; a magnificent tree in the corner, the gifts piled haphazardly beneath. The adorning silver balls reflected their bright colors. Carmel had made an early Christmas dinner in honor of her visit, choosing an oyster stuffing for the turkey, knowing it was her niece's favorite. For dessert, pumpkin pie and freshly whipped cream.
After dinner came the gifts. Carmel's was a potpourri for her dressing room; dried rose buds mixed with pearls, scented with strawberry essence. Uncle Roger had been more difficult, but finally, a small print of a Toronto street scene in a snow storm, for his study. They both seemed genuinely pleased. She herself was totally delighted with their choice for her. They had put their heads together and presto ⦠a beautifully tooled leather and canvas holdall for her trips home. It was obviously of excellent quality.
The evening at an end, it was hard to say goodbye. She was to deliver their gifts to Lindsay, so like the other travellers on the train, she was loaded down with Christmas parcels.
Now she was wishing Alana, Beris and the others a Merry Christmas and Phyllis was closing up. Those who didn't have to go away would return Boxing Day for the sale, but she wouldn't see them 'til next year.
Tonight was Devon's party and she would give her her gift. She couldn't help the thrill of excitement at this thought, which sent tingles to the tips of her fingers and toes. She had deliberated long and hard over what to get a woman who has everything; something different and special. In the end, it had jumped out at her from the shelf, as she walked through Eaton's. An endearing, fluffy toy called Googles: soft beige coloring with a white chest, a large floppy head, dominated by a big, wide bill. Round black eyes were partially hidden under his long, thick, artificial coat. Googles neck was super floppy on a round tummy. Big fat paws stuck out from the side of his body. He was too cute, she couldn't resist his cuddly charm. There were no other stuffed toys on Devon's bed, so she was sure he would be loved.
*Â Â Â *Â Â Â *
Tenille dressed her hair up for the evening; piled high, thin strands falling in curling cascades. She had found an elaborately decorated comb, similar to those used to keep a lace Mantilla in place; black filigree, studded with little glass beads giving it a jewelled look. Not having the money to buy a stunning evening dress, she decided to wear her new top with a long skirt. To that end she had looked up second-hand clothing stores and found one on Yonge Street at Lawrence, specializing in cast-off clothing from wealthy women. She saw exactly what she wanted; a slim-line, full-length skirt in soft, burgundy-colored velvet. It fell to the floor about her legs in gentle folds, very plain, but the velvet needed nothing more.
She put the ensemble together and slipped on the shoes. Yes. Simple, but chic. She had expensive jewelry from her married days which she no longer wore, but tonight would be appropriate. A pair of small, sapphire and diamond earrings, a matching bracelet, and her diamond engagement ring, placed on her right hand. She would blend in with Devon's friends. She'd not feel let down by her.
Devon had arranged for someone by the name of Darren, to be her escort. She had said she would like him, but that remained to be seen. As it turned out, Devon was right. Darren was a personable young man. He had unruly, sandy colored hair and alert, bushy eyebrows which jiggled animatedly, as he talked. Furio opened the door to him, then knocked on Tenille's saying: âSomeone for you.' He'd given Darren an unfriendly stare, judging him to be the boyfriend and thinking, if that was how the land lay, then his turn would come.
She slipped into her coat as she called out and grabbed up Devon's gift and her purse. Darren was in excellent spirits as he drove over to South Drive, keeping the chatter going. Tenille enjoyed the unfolding panorama of Christmas lights decorating the houses and gardens.
âHow do you know Devon?'
âI don't know her that well, actually,' he confessed. âShe used to go out with my older brother, so for a while was coming round to the house. They're good friends now and still play squash.' He paused, wondering if he could make a bold leap.
“What the hell, she can only cut me. But I don't think she will, she seems too nice.”
He had been mightily impressed with this first meeting; the way she spoke, the warmth of her nature and how her eyes shone like the evening stars. âNelson has a date for tonight, but I haven't, so I got to be the one to pick you up,' chuckling: âLucky me, I say.' He threw her a quick, expectant glance, the eyebrows working overtime. âI'm right in that you don't have a date, either?' He looked at her again, the curly hair positively bristling.
Tenille remained silent then relented. âAre you saying you want us to walk in together?'
âWell â¦' Darren had wanted more than that, but he wasn't going to spell it out. He would accept what he could get with this attractive woman. It would do his image no end of good.
She laughed, he was so transparent. They arrived in good time, Darren taking them along the back roads, up Bedford and across to Crescent. The house was easy to pick. Apart from the huge conifer in the front yard, lit up for identification from outer space, the music blasting from doors and windows left no doubt this was, indeed, the place to be. Too many limousines along the sidewalks for parking, meant Darren had to drop Tenille off.
âWait for me, I won't be long.' He hoped not, anyway, otherwise she would go in without him. Despite the cold, Tenille was true to her promise and waited. Her coat may no longer be stylish, but it was warm.
The guests were already here, spilling noisily into every room. Of interest to see where Devon had grown up, Tenille observed a house full of security, but was it also full of happiness? Certainly her childhood had been a privileged one. She would have liked to meet her parents, but they had gone to a function of their own. Darren joined her and they went in, she with her hand on his arm. Hired help took their coats at the door, then spirited them away as they proceeded through to the living room. It was huge, plushly carpeted, with large mullioned windows giving out onto a wide deck which overlooked the garden. Spotlights illuminated manicured stretches of lawn and landscaped garden beds.
Animated chatter enveloped them as she checked around. Fashion magazines had come to life. She would feel better if she could see Devon.
Nelson observed his brother's arrival. Normally he would have ignored it, but the attractive woman on his arm made him approach for an introduction.
âMy brother Nelson. This is Tenille Fenech.' They nodded.
âThis is Barbara Cousintine.' Nelson introduced the young woman next to him and beamed at Tenille.
âThe date,'
she guessed. Very different from Devon; short, a little on the plump side, possibly Greek heritage; also more bubbly. Barbara was very pretty. Her dress, a Christmassy red, off the shoulder style, revealed quite an expanse of voluptuous bosom. She warmed to Tenille right away as she did to her.
âCome, I'll show you where the drinks are.' Nelson lead them through to the dining room where a bar had been set up and, at the moment, the table was covered with cold hors d'oeuvres, with a large bowl of hot spicy punch in the centre; cinnamon sticks on the side. Sprigs of holly with red berries filled in the spaces around the platters and uniformed attendants circulated trays of hot finger food. This was a popular spot, the crush giving excitement to the occasion. She still hadn't seen Devon. Meanwhile, her little group was swelling in number, more friends arriving; more introductions.
âWhat? Oh sorry. I didn't hear you.'
âI could see that.' His temper was beginning to fray too. âI thought, maybe, when you've finished you might like to come up for a coffee. We could chat some more.'
âThanks, but no thanks. I've got too much to do today,' delivered shortly.
âPerhaps another time then?'
âYes, perhaps,' another curt response. On that note, she made her escape, as she felt it to be.
If she'd known there was to be an obnoxious son, she might have thought twice about the apartment. No she wouldn't. Once her door was closed she was very happy where she was. Later, after checking the coast was clear, she went back for the laundry.
âShouldn't have to do that,' a mumbled grumble. âStill, when needs must â¦' This was the last load. She filled the basket from the dryer then returned to her room to fold and put away. She was enjoying listening to the radio; appreciating its company. Margaret Visser was being interviewed regarding her books: Much Depends on Dinner and her latest, The Way We Are, an anthropological look at ordinary life. She could see vegetarians becoming a greater force to be reckoned with. All interesting stuff. There was a knock at the door. She groaned. If Furio was here again â¦
âPhone for you.'
She heaved a sigh of relief. Was she getting paranoid? She must learn to relax. He wasn't about to go anywhere. âThanks, Furio.' He left and she followed slowly.
âHi.' She thought it mighty be Devon, but it was Marissa.
âJust thought I'd call, see how you're settling in?'
âOh fine, thanks, Marissa.' It was very nice of her to take the time. âI'm just wading through my first pile of laundry. I don't mind though. I'm so pleased to be in my own place.'
âI know Serafina is glad to have you there, too. I also wanted to say how happy I am that you're dancing with us. I enjoy the sessions much more now. It's fun being your partner in the Sevillanas.'
Tenille was flattered, but Marissa's fulsomeness was overwhelming. It must be the Italian way, she surmised. Still, it was hard to handle, leaving her unsure what to say in return.
Marissa swallowed: âDo you have plans for today?'
There was a brief moment of silence, then she answered brightly: âAfter this I was thinking of taking in an art exhibition, otherwise, a lazy day.' She paused again. âWhy?'
Marissa's voice sounded strained this time. âWould you like some company? I don't have anything on.'
She had been looking forward to doing her
own thing
this afternoon, but she could hear a note of pleading in the voice. Was she a bit lonely? Anyway, she couldn't say no.
âCome along, by all means.'
They settled on a time and she told her how to find the Gallery. If she was going to be ready by two o'clock, she had better get her skates on. Suddenly time was running out and she'd not even showered. However, she could tell she had left Marissa with a beaming face and that was worth a lot.
Winter's winds were becoming bitter now. She had to bundle up with an extra sweater. The crisp, clear air, gave a sharp brilliance to the reflections from the unseeing gaze of the highrise windows. Outlines were hard edged. She looked up and saw how brittle the leafless trees appeared in their stark nakedness. She inhaled deeply. Other pedestrians looked fresh faced with reddened cheeks from that extra chilly nip; there was no warmth in the sun any more. It felt good to be alive and it would be fun to share her experiences with Marissa.
âMarissa. Have you been waiting long? You keep beating me to it.'
âNot long. Anyway, I don't mind. It was a relief to get out of the house.' She didn't care about any of that now. She was back with Tenille and that was all that mattered. She looked at her, felt this charismatic quality; a connection between them. Magic filled her soul. Her life felt changed, like when she listened to the choir on Sundays.
âProblems at home?'
âNo, nothing like that. Just a houseful of tiresome relatives. Sometimes I think Italian families are too extended.' She laughed with the pure pleasure of being with this woman again. âThere's a lot to be said for the North American nuclear set-up.'
Tenille liked the idea of the extended one, herself, but didn't say so. Instead she grabbed Marissa's arm. âLet's go in.'
The exhibition rewarded their efforts. The artist favored stylised, rotund, happy people doing quite the most unexpected activities: walking a tightrope: ballet dancing. They were so jolly; she had a way with her characters.
Afterwards it was on to a little Café-bar that Marissa knew and each enjoyed a savory, puff pastry parcel. Tenille's filling was a mixture of sweet potato, pumpkin and vintage cheese; Marissa's, chicken, broccoli and Camembert. Both were served with sour cream and garnished with mesclun, a little radicchio and watercress sprouts in a lemon dressing. This time they drank mocha coffees and indulged themselves with a slice of Cappuccino Cream, Bavarian cheesecake. Where they found the space amazed them. Tenille felt she might never eat again. By the time they left it was dark.
âThis was so much fun,' Marissa gushed: âI hope we can do it again.' Tenille had been very happy today too and readily agreed. âWell, I'll see you Tuesday.'
They parted company at the Cumberland entrance to Bay Subway. Tenille headed back briskly, her thoughts turning toward Christmas shopping. All these festively decorated store windows. They made them look so attractive; so wealthy too, she reflected. Poor people would have a hard time trying to emulate all that opulence. Christmas was a difficult season for the less fortunate.
“We should count our blessings and not become complacent,”
she mused. She would use this week to get herself organized. She must get out to Scarborough Bluffs ⦠look for something for Devon's party: time was running out. She had better phone her mom too. She knew she wouldn't be pleased, but as Devon had said, one day couldn't hurt. Yes, she would phone as soon as she got in; get it over and done with.
*Â Â Â *Â Â Â *
It was the last week before break up. Tenille was feeling well satisfied with her efforts, having accomplished all she had set herself. For some of the gifts she had been positively inspired. Her visit to the Bluffs had been a real treat. Carmel and Roger would be spending their vacation with Russell and the new granddaughter. Carmel couldn't wait.
The living room had looked spectacular. Cedar boughs with pine cones and red ribbon decorated the picture rails; a magnificent tree in the corner, the gifts piled haphazardly beneath. The adorning silver balls reflected their bright colors. Carmel had made an early Christmas dinner in honor of her visit, choosing an oyster stuffing for the turkey, knowing it was her niece's favorite. For dessert, pumpkin pie and freshly whipped cream.
After dinner came the gifts. Carmel's was a potpourri for her dressing room; dried rose buds mixed with pearls, scented with strawberry essence. Uncle Roger had been more difficult, but finally, a small print of a Toronto street scene in a snow storm, for his study. They both seemed genuinely pleased. She herself was totally delighted with their choice for her. They had put their heads together and presto ⦠a beautifully tooled leather and canvas holdall for her trips home. It was obviously of excellent quality.
The evening at an end, it was hard to say goodbye. She was to deliver their gifts to Lindsay, so like the other travellers on the train, she was loaded down with Christmas parcels.
Now she was wishing Alana, Beris and the others a Merry Christmas and Phyllis was closing up. Those who didn't have to go away would return Boxing Day for the sale, but she wouldn't see them 'til next year.
Tonight was Devon's party and she would give her her gift. She couldn't help the thrill of excitement at this thought, which sent tingles to the tips of her fingers and toes. She had deliberated long and hard over what to get a woman who has everything; something different and special. In the end, it had jumped out at her from the shelf, as she walked through Eaton's. An endearing, fluffy toy called Googles: soft beige coloring with a white chest, a large floppy head, dominated by a big, wide bill. Round black eyes were partially hidden under his long, thick, artificial coat. Googles neck was super floppy on a round tummy. Big fat paws stuck out from the side of his body. He was too cute, she couldn't resist his cuddly charm. There were no other stuffed toys on Devon's bed, so she was sure he would be loved.
*Â Â Â *Â Â Â *
Tenille dressed her hair up for the evening; piled high, thin strands falling in curling cascades. She had found an elaborately decorated comb, similar to those used to keep a lace Mantilla in place; black filigree, studded with little glass beads giving it a jewelled look. Not having the money to buy a stunning evening dress, she decided to wear her new top with a long skirt. To that end she had looked up second-hand clothing stores and found one on Yonge Street at Lawrence, specializing in cast-off clothing from wealthy women. She saw exactly what she wanted; a slim-line, full-length skirt in soft, burgundy-colored velvet. It fell to the floor about her legs in gentle folds, very plain, but the velvet needed nothing more.
She put the ensemble together and slipped on the shoes. Yes. Simple, but chic. She had expensive jewelry from her married days which she no longer wore, but tonight would be appropriate. A pair of small, sapphire and diamond earrings, a matching bracelet, and her diamond engagement ring, placed on her right hand. She would blend in with Devon's friends. She'd not feel let down by her.
Devon had arranged for someone by the name of Darren, to be her escort. She had said she would like him, but that remained to be seen. As it turned out, Devon was right. Darren was a personable young man. He had unruly, sandy colored hair and alert, bushy eyebrows which jiggled animatedly, as he talked. Furio opened the door to him, then knocked on Tenille's saying: âSomeone for you.' He'd given Darren an unfriendly stare, judging him to be the boyfriend and thinking, if that was how the land lay, then his turn would come.
She slipped into her coat as she called out and grabbed up Devon's gift and her purse. Darren was in excellent spirits as he drove over to South Drive, keeping the chatter going. Tenille enjoyed the unfolding panorama of Christmas lights decorating the houses and gardens.
âHow do you know Devon?'
âI don't know her that well, actually,' he confessed. âShe used to go out with my older brother, so for a while was coming round to the house. They're good friends now and still play squash.' He paused, wondering if he could make a bold leap.
“What the hell, she can only cut me. But I don't think she will, she seems too nice.”
He had been mightily impressed with this first meeting; the way she spoke, the warmth of her nature and how her eyes shone like the evening stars. âNelson has a date for tonight, but I haven't, so I got to be the one to pick you up,' chuckling: âLucky me, I say.' He threw her a quick, expectant glance, the eyebrows working overtime. âI'm right in that you don't have a date, either?' He looked at her again, the curly hair positively bristling.
Tenille remained silent then relented. âAre you saying you want us to walk in together?'
âWell â¦' Darren had wanted more than that, but he wasn't going to spell it out. He would accept what he could get with this attractive woman. It would do his image no end of good.
She laughed, he was so transparent. They arrived in good time, Darren taking them along the back roads, up Bedford and across to Crescent. The house was easy to pick. Apart from the huge conifer in the front yard, lit up for identification from outer space, the music blasting from doors and windows left no doubt this was, indeed, the place to be. Too many limousines along the sidewalks for parking, meant Darren had to drop Tenille off.
âWait for me, I won't be long.' He hoped not, anyway, otherwise she would go in without him. Despite the cold, Tenille was true to her promise and waited. Her coat may no longer be stylish, but it was warm.
The guests were already here, spilling noisily into every room. Of interest to see where Devon had grown up, Tenille observed a house full of security, but was it also full of happiness? Certainly her childhood had been a privileged one. She would have liked to meet her parents, but they had gone to a function of their own. Darren joined her and they went in, she with her hand on his arm. Hired help took their coats at the door, then spirited them away as they proceeded through to the living room. It was huge, plushly carpeted, with large mullioned windows giving out onto a wide deck which overlooked the garden. Spotlights illuminated manicured stretches of lawn and landscaped garden beds.
Animated chatter enveloped them as she checked around. Fashion magazines had come to life. She would feel better if she could see Devon.
Nelson observed his brother's arrival. Normally he would have ignored it, but the attractive woman on his arm made him approach for an introduction.
âMy brother Nelson. This is Tenille Fenech.' They nodded.
âThis is Barbara Cousintine.' Nelson introduced the young woman next to him and beamed at Tenille.
âThe date,'
she guessed. Very different from Devon; short, a little on the plump side, possibly Greek heritage; also more bubbly. Barbara was very pretty. Her dress, a Christmassy red, off the shoulder style, revealed quite an expanse of voluptuous bosom. She warmed to Tenille right away as she did to her.
âCome, I'll show you where the drinks are.' Nelson lead them through to the dining room where a bar had been set up and, at the moment, the table was covered with cold hors d'oeuvres, with a large bowl of hot spicy punch in the centre; cinnamon sticks on the side. Sprigs of holly with red berries filled in the spaces around the platters and uniformed attendants circulated trays of hot finger food. This was a popular spot, the crush giving excitement to the occasion. She still hadn't seen Devon. Meanwhile, her little group was swelling in number, more friends arriving; more introductions.
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