In the name of the Father

Chapter 8 - The French Connection

Chapter 8 – The French Connection

Never had I been invited to a convention quite like this, nor had I worn a suit quite as dapper and handsome like the one I was wearing. The plush tailoring felt like a million francs against my skin. I knew that my ensemble cost Jeanne a hefty amount. I prodded for the price tag but he was tight-lipped. I endeavored to investigate how expensive the label was, and all he said in response was ‘designed by Alexander Price’. I found the name to be associated with pricey tailoring. It was then I realized how pivotal this event was going to be, and how much Jeanne adored me.

Chaps with silver trays of lavish finger food and wine roamed the plush carpeting of the alcove by the bay, all the way to where I stood inside the herculean confines of a gala that held a grand social event. This gathering was so much more. It had people from different races and strata.

I took a swig of what I recognized as Le Pin Pomerol from France. I remembered sampling it in the convent during that one rare happenstance when the monsignor ordered wine. It’s an exquisite and outright costly brand of liquor. Its spirits wafted up my nose and sauntered down my throat. I relished the mild intoxication it brought as I looked around at the many happy people. It was magnifique. I knew then that there was no event that could compare to a UN Convention.

I wasn’t a social butterfly nor was I a wallflower. I just coasted and flounced around from table to table, making brief conversations as I went about my awkward social dance. I wasn’t even aware what the assembly was about. All I knew was Jeanne wanted me to accompany him and talk to a select group of important people who happened to come from France. I guess I was his French connection. I didn’t mind, because I felt like I was at home. It felt good to be useful.

Jeanne stood at a far corner. He looked animated as he engaged some nationals with meaningful chatter. He seemed to be enjoying his repartee as was I with mine. We’d meet eye to eye at certain points. His gaze would bore, trigger, and enliven an adverse carnal reaction in my loins.

I held my glass to toast and clink with the French confederates I was with, but my attention was to Jeanne who was eyeing me as he did the same. He gave me a knowing grin from the far side of the majestic floor. I responded with the same gesture that was filled with ardor. Together we tasted our wines, and despite the distance between us, it felt like we were at home sitting on his plush Italian couch, just the two of us … wondering and dreaming of grapes and wine cellars.

Never had I seen Gray so handsome and refined. ‘Dad’s a lucky man’ my thought as I tipped my head back to gobble a glass of cabernet sauvignon. The rich, smooth, and sweet prickle of its flavor was something I welcomed as I curbed my s****l craving. Damn you Gray, and the things you make me do. I wouldn’t be caught dead in a pressed suit at a tight luncheon such as this if it weren’t for his presence. I adored him this much that I wouldn’t pass the chance to be with him.

Dad just had to take Gray with him to put his French mouth to good use. The longer Gray spoke with those Parisian Nationals, the stronger dad’s connections would become. If there was something father was known for, it’s how he made his friendships. He had kept people close for generations with a sleight of hand for he knew the benefits. I think he’d go as far as using someone like Gray to further his influence. I flinched as I realized the crudity of the thought that crossed my mind.

I swiped another glass of wine from the maître d' as I mulled over my thoughts. What had I hoped to achieve by coming here? As if it wasn’t enough torture being in the same room with Gray. The distance that separated us did nothing to ease the tension I felt. I wanted to be close.

“Hey Jake,” a beautiful voice broke my reverie. I knew it was him the minute I heard that first syllable. His voice was an imprint that was indelible, unmistakable, and absolutely his. And as I turned to look at those Gray eyes I thought, ‘Damn you, Gray … and the things you make me feel’.

Clearly broken from the trance I was deeply in, I engaged his hello, “Hey, you did great there.”

He gave a confounded look as if my words were not understood. I found his bewildered expression endearing. And with a heart that sped a thousand miles per minute, I leaned in and tried to make a connection, “Gray, you’re making it harder for me not to talk to you. You look good tonight,” it wasn’t the best line but I thought it was the most honest. It was how I felt.

“You don’t look so bad yourself,” he praised and it made my heart flutter with elation. Gray and I had been in this emotional ping pong match for quite some time now, yet the feeling never got old. He’d always get to me even with the shortest of words. This was killing me. I knew it so.

I cleared my throat rather perceptibly, and then swallowed my pulsating heart, “What salient points did you exchange with the Frenchmen?” I asked, clearly smitten, and with no coherent thought in mind. I’d quiz Gray on anything if it meant stretching this precious time with him.

“We talked about your father and what his efforts are in bringing peace and absolution to countries where Americans reside. I felt like it was my duty to reinforce his connections. Strong ties are a desirable commodity, Jake. Thus your father works hard in making and sustaining his connections. If I can bring him that then I would know that I helped my country, and yours too.”

I was flummoxed. My thoughts were lost at sea. His wit was beguiling. How could one man affect me this much? Emotions seemed to rise and fall whenever I’m with him. I had been hankering for a while, wanting something I knew I wasn’t going to get. If only Gray knew how painful it was to admire him from afar. My heart was getting tired of this game I played, for it appeared like I was the only one playing. And as I looked into those gray eyes of his I knew that I’ve fallen hard for someone who’d never reciprocate my feelings. I was a fool, a fool for love.

Never had I seen my son so engaged and full of life. He and Gray conversed in a calm fashion. They had grown fond of each other over the past five months. It reminded me how far we’d come with the arrangement the three of us were trying so hard to manage. I guess we succeeded.

I knew my son fell by the wayside when Lucille died. I lost hope myself and grew cold. Her departure felt like knives to my chest. I mourned her, but most importantly I grieved the kind of love she deserved which I was never able to truly give. Oh Lucy, if you could only see us now.

Jake is a very attractive man. I’d be a fool if it didn’t cross my mind that Gray might fancy my son. But Gray had been adamant about his feelings for me, and he made sure I understood that each and every day. Trust was an investment Gray and I shared. It was a connection we had strongly established since the night we met. Abraham Lincoln once said that time was a great thickener of things. I believed in that, though time could also rot all things. And as I watched them share a good laugh I couldn’t help but wonder, ‘Was Gray’s love for me wearing thin?’

The hours passed quickly the more people I talked to. This was the side of UN Conventions that people don’t get to see on television. One would think that cocktail parties and afterhours were just for the Oscars. They were wrong. Esteemed confederates knew how to have a good time too.

It appeared as if Jake was getting too embroiled with Gray. Their smiles seemed to widen the longer they were together. This I observed from a distance. I couldn’t help the pang of jealousy that hit me. They looked like a perfect matching. Their connection was starting to hurt my eyes.

My steps took me to where they were. They looked up to greet me with their expressions. Gray’s was one of love and admiration. Jake’s was more of a quiet indignation. The flicker in my son’s eyes quickly died the minute I took position behind Gray. I knew Jake and the message he was too gutless to communicate. He fancied Gray. My mind knew it to be true, and my soul felt it too.

“We can go now. Ready?” I offered to both of them.

“Sure,” Gray acquiesced, his expression exuberant.

“Fine,” Jake blanched, his face losing its luster.

And with that we went home. Barry drove me and Gray in my Audi A6, while Jake roared in his convertible. Gray recounted his experience with the Nationals and how he found information that could possibly afford me ten more years in the profession. He was a very smart and eloquent man. I didn’t expect he’d be an effective and persuasive contact to the European Ambassadors.

I listened as he described the many faculties I could explore to remain in power, but all I could think of was how lovely he looked with my son. If old age were to get to me, would I be able to hand him over to my son? The thought twisted in my stomach as I got lost in those gray eyes.

Never have I had so much wine in my life. Jeanne was taken by sleep minutes after we got home. As for me, there was too much pinot grigio and cabernet sauvignon in my bloodstream that I wasn’t feeling sleepy at all. I wondered how Jake was, and if he was feeling the same.

Jake was nowhere to be found. He wasn’t in his room, not in his makeshift office, nor was he in the game room. I felt the need to search for him. I went through and past the west wing and into the great room but alas, there was no Jake. There was no need for me to worry for he’s an adult. But the more I thought about it, my intentions became clear – I wanted to spend time with him.

I made my way past the kitchenette to the mini-bar, and just like a moth to a flame I found him. He looked decrepit with his bow tie hanging loose. His mouth guzzled on an open bottle of Pétrus Pomerol, a complimentary wine from the President. Oh Jake, whatever will I do with you?

Never had I been so madly in love to the point that I wanted to rip myself apart. I startled and steeled the minute Gray appeared by the mini-bar. I saw his eyes, and it took all of me not to break into an emotion. I was too stubborn to look vulnerable. Not in front of Gray. Not now.

My world had been in shambles ever since I met those gray eyes. He brought me lunch that windy day and all I could think about was sharing my meal with him, and my heart. The more I tried to avoid him the closer we became. I sighed heavily and took a swig of wine to drown my unreciprocated sentiments. However, the more I swallowed my feelings the more hurt I became. I was a ball of emotions, and I hated it.

Gray encircled the isle and searched something in the cupboards. My first thought was ‘Hey nice of you to join me’ but the picture drained away the minute he brought a vague object between us.

“Here,” he motioned for me to take what looked like a sippy cup. What?

It confused me so I made sure it was indeed a sippy cup I was holding, “Gray, what is this?” I held the cup, wondering if it was some sort of metaphor about life that he wanted me to realize.

“It’s a sippy cup, silly. Try it,” he urged which made me question his sanity. Quit playing, Gray.

“You’re kidding, right? Why?”

“I am not your mother, Jake. If she was here she would probably smash that bottle in your head, then she’ll tell you to take whatever this is…” he stirred the air with his index finger “…back to your room and sleep on it,” he ministered as if he was mother to a child who was up to no good.

“Okay … thanks for the tip, Mom … but what’s with the sippy cup?” I had no clue, so I gave up.

He gave a warm smile and I swore on all that was good and merciful that his expression made my heart skip a beat and do crazy things inside my chest. Oh Gray, I need to get away from you.

“I won’t bother stopping you from boozing yourself to oblivion. I’m not your mother. But maybe using that sippy cup would remind you to take it slow. Come on, pour the wine in and feed on the small opening till you get tired of it. Eventually you’ll stop drinking. You’ll get to taste the wine without having to wake up feeling awful tomorrow,” he stated plainly. I simply followed.

I drank from the sippy cup and realized how right he was. I gave a brooding stare that said ‘You clever little devil’ which he rewarded with a grin. A feeling blossomed within me. It was something that felt maternal. ‘Oh Gray, you are so much more than I thought you’d ever be’.

“Do you ever miss your mother?” he asked as if he read my mind. It startled me to a choke.

I coughed unattractively before saying, “I do, but she’s in a better place now,” I contemplated.

He smiled ever so slightly, his eyes melting into a look that showed empathy and understanding, “Rest easy, Jake. It’s always good to take it slow. It’s never easy to rush these things, you know.”

“Yeah, like the feelings I have for you,” I whispered.

“What?” he heard my sorry plea, it made me curse inwardly.

“Nothing, Gray … thanks,” I held the cup to a toast.

Gray clinked with an invisible wine glass. He made his way past the mini-bar to the doorframe going into the great room. Before he disappeared he gave a knowing smile and a nod. At that moment I knew we had a connection. But it was the kind that spelled friendship. Nothing more.