Laurel watches Michael with a wistful expression that even I, a stranger to her, can easily decipher. “I wonder if he needs any help,” she says.
“He seems a little stressed,” I observe, hoping that my outsider’s interpretation will comfort her somewhat. In a strange way, I’m already rooting for her, wanting there to be peace between them, even though I have no idea what she did to hurt him. I trust her—like I did Michael from the beginning—on pure instinct. And despite that, I also understand that whatever she did, it warrants his pain.
“Michael’s been really crabby all day,” Andrea says, watching him seriously, chin in hand.
“Here,” Laurel offers, drawing a chair out for me. “Come sit with us. I had no idea Michael was dating anyone.”
Michael might not like it, but I decide to be honest. “I wish he’d told you.”
“Yes, well, Michael likes to keep things…interesting. And we haven’t exactly been talking much recently.”
“Rebecca’s an actress,” Andrea interjects, a look of pride on her face that moves me.
“That’s not exactly true anymore, sweetie.”
“But you’re on television all the time.”
I’m opening my mouth to explain the difference between reruns and an active career when Laurel answers, “I do recognize you. Rebecca O’Neill—of course, now I see it.”
Somehow the idea that she knows who I am, coupled with Andrea’s unabashed pride in my former profession, embarrasses me. I can’t look at either of them, and feeling my face burn with emotion, I glance toward the grill again to see if Michael’s coming back anytime soon.
Laurel gestures to a bottle of wine, a pricey label that I’ve never seen around here before. “Shall I pour you a glass?”
“Yes, please.”
Laurel slides the chilled glass of wine my way. “When did you and Michael begin dating?”
“A month ago. Roughly.”
“Michael’s not gay anymore, Aunt Laurel,” Andrea interjects, laughing and scowling all at once. “Isn’t that weird?”
Now my face is really burning and I’m a little ticked at Michael for abandoning me to handle this awkwardness on my own. Andrea resumes coloring. “Michael’s kind of like my friend Gretchen’s daddy who turned out gay all of a sudden,” she explains. “All the kids in class were talking about it. Only, Michael says it probably wasn’t all of a sudden.” Her frown intensifies, becomes more perplexed. “It’s sorta the same with Michael, I guess. Only he turned out not gay, huh, Rebecca?”
Great. I’m dating the ungay. Is that like the undead?
Laurel gives me a brief but undeniably sympathetic look. “Sweetie,” I answer cautiously, “I think Michael’s the one who can answer these questions.”
“Relationships between grownups can be complex sometimes,” Laurel adds.
“Oh, I understand about being gay,” Andrea answers with a knowing nod. “Michael and I’ve talked about it a lot. And Daddy explained it to me some, too. When it would come up with my friends at school.”
“What did your daddy tell you?” Laurel asks, leaning forward.
“That we were a family. Even though maybe people didn’t always understand that.” Her expression becomes contemplative. “And Michael always says love is what counts.”
Tears sting my eyes and I look again to the yard. The man of the moment seems to be lost permanently at the grill right when I need him most.
“You know, I should use the bathroom,” I announce, needing to escape. “I’ll be right back.”
Laurel watches me as I excuse myself, an inscrutable expression on her face, but not an unfriendly one. I even think that she seems like a potential ally, as she gives another one of her ethereal smiles when I leave the table.
Inside, I feel my way through the dark house, but instead of winding down the hallway toward the kitchen, I wander into Michael’s bedroom. Flicking on the overhead light, I squint beneath the hazy glare of the antique fixture. There’s a cubicle-sized bathroom off the corner of the bedroom, and I walk toward it, thankful for the break from the tense scene outside. This relationship feels so hard sometimes. Michael’s own daughter doesn’t fully grasp his bisexuality—so what does Laurel think? That he’s just walking on the tame side for once? I’m not even sure how well Laurel and Michael knew one another before Alex’s death, much less what went wrong between them.