The Neallys Ch. 01: Suzanne Goes to NYC

Suddenly I had a friend in Kerry and suddenly I knew that I wanted and needed more with her. But I was disciplined enough to realize that I could do nothing about it just yet (if ever) and I was able to compartmentalize enough to put that aside while I prepared for my exams. Plus everything I knew told me she was straight.

And so Kerry and I and the others in the study group met on campus each day between when classes ended and exams began. It was the most intense mental period I ever experienced and one course and one outline bled into another in an eruption of thought. When we took the last exam, the five of us went to a pizzeria on Broadway where we wolfed down a few pies and a few pitchers of beer and caught our breaths for the first time since we had started in August.

We then scattered.

Kerry: The Apartment

While I was confident I did well, I wasn't sure I did well. What was done was done, though. Time to move on and savor the holiday, having survived this rite-of-passage as an aspiring attorney.

I was a little blitzed when I walked into the house, having had a fair share of the beers we shared with the pizza. My Mom was still at work. Still a few days before Christmas. I took a break the prior Sunday to go with her to pick up a tree and a wreath, and the tree stood decorated in the living room, my Mom having taken care of that and the wreath. I don't know how she did it.

Of course, Suzanne was invited to Christmas dinner. She told me at one study session that she decided not to go home for the break. She told her mother that she wanted to take advantage of just being in New York without the pressure of schoolwork. She mentioned, too, that her mother got decidedly cold when she said she had catching up to do with her Aunt Mary.

They--Suzanne, Mary, and Helen (Peter and Michael being with their dad)--came to our house for Christmas dinner and presents. My Mom put her face in her hands when I opened something from Suzanne that turned out to be a COLUMBIA sweatshirt and she said, "You can wear that with the backpack your Mom makes you carry to school." I threw the shirt at her. But she also gave me a pair of emerald earrings she got from a second-hand shop she visited with Annie in Beacon, and I gave her a Hermes scarf I picked up at a consignment shop in town.

After Christmas, though, Suzanne stopped answering my calls and responded to my texts with

{Suzanne:} Just taking care of some stuff. CU soon, and when I called Mary about it, she said that Suzanne was back in the city and was ghosting her too. Neither of us understood why.

Then:

{Kerry:} Happy New Year's. xo

Followed ten minutes later with:

{Suzanne:} And to you.

And then no response to my immediate:

{Kerry:} See ya soon??

until January 2:

{Suzanne:} Sorry Kerry, I'm coming down with something.

Something was majorly wrong. She didn't pick up when I called or get back to my voicemails. So on the third, I just drove down and after twenty minutes was able to find a parking spot a few blocks from Suzanne's apartment. I knew Annie was not around since Suzanne told me she had gone home for the holiday. Amazingly enough, this would be my first visit to the apartment. But I thought to back in November: "you ambushed me at my place and I can do the same to you."

I pushed the buzzer in the building's tiny foyer and when a very-healthy sounding Suzanne asked "Yes?" I told her, "It's me, let me up." To which she said, "I don't think it's you. You would have said 'it is I.'" and a pause. "Look, Kerry, I really don't feel well." Her voice had changed. Now it was husky. In a bad way. I said, "Suzanne, I drove all the way down here, wandered the streets for ages to find a place to park, to speak to you. Let me up." I heard the buzzer and pushed the door open. I climbed the flight to her second-floor apartment. Her door was ajar.

As I said, I'd never been there. It was big. Not "Friends" big, more like Meg-Ryan's-place-in-"You've Got Mail" big. There was a nice living room with a curved window overlooking the street and a small kitchen. And two bedrooms off the hall heading to the back. Suzanne was sitting in the middle of the sofa, and I sat in one of the chairs across the coffee table.

"I really don't feel well," she said. She seemed pale.

"Suzanne, what's going on. You look kind of drowned out but I don't think it's physical. Talk to me."

"You're the last person I can talk to."

That hurt and I think she saw me wince.

"No, no, no. It's not you."

"Then what is it?"

She paused, took a breath, and after a moment's thought her eyes became steely. Staring at me she said, "I'm gay."

I have always hated myself for this, but all I could say, at least all I DID say was, "You can't be" and, worse, I shook my head and covered my eyes. "I thought we were friends...You can't be like that."

When I looked again her eyes were blank. I wasn't ready for what she said and I don't know why I said what I said, but to her was I no better than her father?

She got up. Walked to the door. Opening it she was direct: "Just fucking leave."

And I did. 

Suzanne: Two Seconds

Bitch.

I bared my soul to this woman. I never told anyone, not even my Aunt. Not even Annie. I didn't know whether I would ever tell anyone else except maybe someone else I fell for in some sleazy lesbian dive. I needed to come out to her and it revolted her. I revolted her. Not only would I not learn whether she had any feelings for me, I found that her only feeling when I exposed myself to her was repulsion.

I ignored her calls and didn't respond to her texts. I figured Kerry hadn't told my Aunt because when Aunt Mary called, she said nothing about it. I got away with telling her I was too busy preparing for the spring Term to focus on anything else. That was not true. I wouldn't have to think about school until late January when classes resumed.

I did speak to Annie. She sensed that something was off but didn't push it. Even when she came back from Mill Valley she knew enough to give me space, though she did drag me out to a few get-togethers with her friends. At that point, I had none of my own.

Given the drop-off in my course-load after the first term, I started running more in the Park; it was all of 100 yards from my front door. Even when it snowed heavily, the Park Drive was cleared within a day. In January I did at least one six-mile loop each morning at about nine and longer ones on the weekends.

I was never a big Facebook user, but I deleted my account. None of my "Facebook friends" would notice. With few real-world friends but Annie, I was lonely. She knew that I was cratering and tried to get me to go out with her on weekends, but I always bowed out, pleading school work. I never mentioned Kerry.

No matter what I did, I thought of Kerry. I knew she wanted to apologize and I knew I'd have to deal with her when classes began, but I was gutted. I wouldn't listen. Fucking child. I was just a fucking, spoiled child. 

Kerry: Conflicts

I thought Suzanne didn't have a mean bone in her body and that that's one of the things I loved--yes, I use that word--about her. But sometimes I wondered if I was premature in my assessment. I fucked up, okay. She came out to me and afterward I realized that she probably had not come out to anyone before and might not ever again. And what if she wanted me?

I, in that one moment of my life, failed. I failed Suzanne. I failed myself. I'm not an idiot and I knew there were plenty of gay people around. Hell, I had often met and had dinner with Mary and Helen, a lesbian couple with kids.

And yet.

I had "just met" them. They weren't my friends. They weren't my best friend. I wasn't their best friend and I knew that that's what I was to Suzanne. I reacted and I reacted badly. The most important moment of my life and I reacted badly.

She ignored my calls and my texts and was gone--pfft!--from Facebook. I knew some of what was happening to her since we were in the same classes again. We no longer sat together. She was cold to everyone else and frigid to me, waiting until I was up and gone before she left a classroom. I'd stand a discrete distance from the door to watch her go, but she was always stoic, always silent as she left the building or headed up to the library.

I rarely went to the library between classes, fearing I'd make her uncomfortable. It was just so fucked up. And I hadn't even addressed my own feelings for her.

Suzanne: The Armory

Out of the blue in late January I got a call from Patsy Davis. She ran for Washington and we'd chat after Pac-12 meets. I liked her. She was tall and slim and had ink-blank hair. I don't know how she tracked me down. Probably some super-secret network of post-grad runners.

Patsy asked if I was still running. She was doing some film thing at NYU and had hooked up with a local elite women's club. "They have these crazy all-comers meets at the Armory on Thursday nights. No pressure but lots of fun. If you can handle the dry air." The Armory has a high-tech banked indoor track. It was an old armory and I heard that where the track was used to be where they stored jeeps and stuff. It was near Broadway and 168th Street.

I told Patsy that I was so focused on law school that I only ran a few times a week and hadn't done speed work since my last semester at Stanford.

"No one cares," she responded. "As long as you don't get lapped on a 200-meter track, you can only embarrass yourself so much."

So that's why I was sitting on the 1 Train heading up Broadway. I had my spikes, scarlet Stanford singlet, and loads of nerves. I hate racing but love it when I'm finished.

Patsy promised she would be there, and when I walked up to the track, there she was. She wore black boyshorts and a white singlet with a red Mercury logo. She looked taller than at Washington, with her hair much shorter.

She gave me a hug and pulled me to some teammates. Like a college team, they came in all shapes and sizes and they all looked slim and, more to the point, fast. After consulting with them, I elected to run the 1500. And I died. I wasn't lapped and I wasn't DFL, i.e., dead fucking last. But I died. I hacked my way through the entire final lap, collapsing to the infield afterward. I felt I had embarrassed my singlet but at that point I only wanted water to moisten my dry mouth.

I was happy. Rusty, but happy. 

Kerry: Coffee with Mary & Helen

I landed a summer associate position with a large midtown firm. Four of my classmates would be there too, although I didn't know any of them well. I'd be commuting from Tuckahoe.

Steven, my boyfriend from Fordham, called me in early February, asking if we could meet for dinner. I begged off, figuring something had happened over Christmas with his hometown girlfriend and was trying to reconnect with me. But while he was fun and I used to enjoy being in his company, and thought I loved him, going out with him didn't seem right. Nor, I had to admit, did I have an interest in going out with any of the guys at school. January and February passed very slowly and classes came as a relief.

In mid-March, I was window-shopping in Bronxville and ran into Mary and Helen. After I said hello, how are you, etc., I tried to leave. Helen asked me to join them for a coffee. So, we went to the small non-Starbucks coffee place in town. Helen cut to the chase. "What happened between you and Suzanne?" I paused and sipped my coffee.

"I disappointed us."

What else could I say? It wasn't for me to out her to anyone, even her lesbian Aunt and her partner. Especially them because if she hadn't told them there must have been a good reason. I mean, I know I was the only person to whom Suzanne had come out to. She hadn't told me that but I just knew it.

"I can't say how. I can only say that I disappointed her and I disappointed myself." I teared up. "It was two fucking seconds and I revealed to her and to me how much of a shit I am."

Mary laughed. My head shot up and I glared at her. "She's your niece. How can you be so glib, so cruel?"

Helen reached for my wrist. "Mary is never cruel. She can be glib. But she's never cruel. I think Suzanne gets that from her."

Mary reached over and touched my other hand.

"It was a nervous laugh. My brother, Suzanne's father," she began, "is often cruel and he hasn't the humor to be glib. It took me a long time to forgive him for returning that letter I sent to him back with that 'Do not contact this person again' crap."

She saw my puzzled look. "Suzanne asked me if she could tell you that story and the other things about me and I said I have no secrets. She told me that she wanted you to understand how screwed up her family is and, I guess, to give you the sense that she is not like that."

I nodded.

"I mean, her father was at Stanford and I thought he was able to think for himself. I thought he'd realize I was trying to avoid putting him between me and our parents. But he didn't even open the letter. He knew it was from his only sister and he didn't open the letter.

"They say like marries like"--I noticed her smile at Helen, who said, "at least eventually"--"and that's what he did. Nice Catholic wedding--I wasn't invited of course and saw the notice in the Chronicle--with a white gown and limos and rice and all. I was happy in my own life here in New York, except for my pining for Helen here. I knew whether I liked it or not there was zero chance to create a relationship with them. Suzanne's parents."

We all paused and sipped our coffees, catching our breaths.

Mary resumed. "In 2010 I received an invitation to Thanksgiving at his house. It was clear that it was just for me. No 'plus one.' I still don't know why it was sent. I had not received anything from him. Ever.

"Anyway, I arranged to get a gig writing a think piece out there and went to dinner. An invitation to stay was never extended, and I wouldn't have accepted it anyway."

Another sip.

"That's when I met Suzanne."

Suzanne: New Things/New Focus

For the spring, I decided to focus on school and running. And Kerry? Well, I decided to focus on school and running.

Kerry: Mary's Version

A few weeks after I had coffee with Mary and Helen, I sat on the 8:13 train. Tuckahoe and Bronxville, the stop closest to the part of Yonkers where Mary and Helen lived, were on Metro-North Harlem Line and the final two stops heading into the city were Harlem and Grand Central.

I thought of what Mary told me about Suzanne. She was fifteen when they met on that Thanksgiving. The only Thanksgiving she spent with her niece until the one just shared. She loved her niece immediately. She had a good soul and jumped in to quell anything that threatened to expose the rift between her parents and her Aunt. With just her fifteen-year-old's glance, she made it clear that nothing would be tolerated.

Unfortunately, the restraint didn't carry over once the dishes were cleared and the dessert eaten that holiday. Suzanne overheard her father, her upstanding, every-Sunday-Mass-going father, tell her mother in the kitchen, "I will not allow her to do to Suzanne what she did to herself. I'm not giving her another chance," and her mother agreed, "I don't know why you thought it would be a good idea to ask that bitch here." Mary said that she heard it too.

It broke Suzanne's heart and, Mary said, she hoped it would have a chance to recover. She decided to lay low and not put Suzanne in the middle. There would be no middle. She knew Suzanne was smart and, more importantly, would grow into her own woman. As she had.

So back in 2010, Mary arranged to meet with Suzanne for lunch the day after Thanksgiving. At the end of their talk, Mary told her that she had to leave, and assured her of her love. She promised to with open arms when Suzanne sought her out. She pecked Suzanne on the forehead and whispered, "I know you are not of their world." And she left. She didn't see her niece for nearly seven years.

They spoke often, though, especially when Suzanne was at Stanford. When Suzanne decided to go to law school, Mary hoped she'd the West Coast and come east. At least for school. She was thrilled Suzanne picked Columbia.

Mary cried when she told me of seeing the grown-up Suzanne double parking her Camry outside her new apartment, which Mary had arranged for Suzanne and Annie.

Free of her parents, Mary saw how happy Suzanne became just by Labor Day, two weeks after starting school.

Suzanne: Changes

With the arrival of spring and the receipt of my first-term grades, two As and two Bs, I felt more comfortable at school and ran every day. Generally, I did a six-mile loop of Central Park after class and tried to go out with Patsy's club for a long run at least once on the weekend. I even hopped into some roadraces, wearing my Stanford singlet for the first couple but the Club's from that point on.

We, of course, saw runners from other clubs and, as with college, we competed against them but enjoyed the camaraderie we shared in the aftermath of races, often doing warmdowns in a big, relaxed group of girls we had just gone to war against, BSing and gabbing as we floated along the Park's Bridle Path. It was an incredible community, shared at the once-a-month big races held in the city. I found myself moving higher up in the races I ran as more of the rust was scraped away.

School was good. Running was good. I could have been happier.

Patsy was gay, and I figured some of my other teammates probably were. But no one gave a crap about that. We were all just runners, and that bound us together. There were members of other clubs that I hoped were gay. No one knew, although some may have thought they knew, my orientation. I had never had the nerve to approach anyone. As in college, we hung out in a pack, although members of it were regularly disappearing to spend more time with significant others, straight and gay.

When I returned from a post-class run, after I showered and ate, I couldn't keep ignoring it.

I thought back to the fall when Annie and I had invited ourselves to Kerry's place. I met Eileen. She had flirted with me that first time, although it was something she never repeated. But that simple, probably unintentional flirtation affected me in a way that I was never before affected. It wasn't, I knew but hadn't admitted, because of her. It was her daughter. With Christmas over, I had to figure out what I was going to do about it. If anything. So, I cloistered myself, panicking. And then she'd shown up at my building. I knew when she sat down and asked me what was wrong--I know that's not the right word--I had to tell her. But before I could tell her about her I told her about me and when I did, she was gone. They talk about the Big Bang and how everything changed in a tiny, tiny fraction of a second. For me, it took much longer for everything to change. About two seconds. Two fucking seconds.

I thought that she was a bitch for what she had done, but I realized that it was me, not her. And I lacked the courage to do anything about it. I saw her all the time when we were back at school but I had used up all my courage to come out to her and I didn't know where I could get any more. Every time I saw her, I couldn't defeat my stubbornness.

I found my mind drifting more and more to California. Whatever my turbulence in New York, California didn't feel like "home" anymore. I came east to see a part of the world with which I was unfamiliar and to re-connect with my Aunt Mary. California, though, was where I was born and where I was raised and I expected that I'd head back there after my three years at Columbia. I'd gotten myself a summer associate position at a large San Francisco firm--not my father's--as a step in preparing for my legal career.