The Neallys Ch. 05: The Story's End

She was surprised. The bile that came up when she first spoke to Eileen and when she first met Eileen was absent. There was no need to fling her glass across the room and let the gin and the tonic splatter the wall. There was no need to rush out and drive for hours along the Pacific.

"William," she calmly began, "I do not need help. I do not need redemption. I have been redeemed."

With that, she got up and walked upstairs to call her daughters and her sisters, the ones in New York. She knew she would need to speak individually with her parents and each of her siblings. For now, though, it was Suzanne and Kerry and Eileen and Mary who had to be called.

A Mother's Return to New York

Kate was on the six-forty flight to JFK the next morning, after again sleeping in Suzanne's room. The early departure was no problem; she barely slept. When she arrived at about three-thirty she was met by Suzanne and Kerry, who somehow wrangled yet more time away from their respective jobs. "Maybe," Kate said to them after hugs, "I can get a job where you work. I'd never have to go in."

The two girls took a cab from the city and now they hopped in one to head up to Tuckahoe. It took some time to get to the cab, though, since their Mother had checked a large suitcase in. "Just essentials," she said, "I've shipped a load of stuff."

Kate had a fair bit of things at Mary and Betty's place. She had only brought a carry-on when she first came to New York and after realizing she'd be staying for a while had hit some stores to bolster her wardrobe.

Some Necessary Calls

Over the next week, Kate spoke to her parents and her two brothers and two sisters. Her conversations with her parents and her brothers, Devlin and Edward, were brief; they merely told Kate that they understood that she was under a lot of strain with Suzanne gone and that they would be happy to see her when she came "home" and that they would be "praying for you and Suzanne" until then. Her sister Debbie was pretty much the same.

Things were different with Elizabeth, the youngest in the family and married to Phil Windsor with three kids in high school. They had never been close in part because Lizzie was her family's "free spirit" as Mary had been in William's. Lizzie listened to everything that Kate said and simply responded, "I know it's hard for you Kate but I love you and I love Suzanne so I'll be there for you for whatever you need."

When Suzanne heard this, she called Lizzie and discovered yet another aunt she never really knew, as had happened with Mary. They promised to, and did, keep in touch, and Lizzie and Phil were guests at Suzanne's wedding, Kerry whispering after the ceremony, "now we know where we're staying if we visit California."

Embarrassment

It was embarrassing. William Nelson was at one of his firm's parties for summer associates. It was in the San Francisco apartment of one of his partners, offering a great view over the Golden Gate. It was a party where one's spouse was expected to attend, and several spouses of other partners were there. Kate Nelson was not.

William had followed in his father's footsteps: Stanford, Stanford Law. His father died with his mother in a car accident about twenty years before, when they were in their early fifties. William, now fifty-two, worked his way up to partner in one of San Francisco's top Big Law firms, one that had seen and developed ties to growing Silicon Valley firms before most of the others did, and he was part of the group that developed and worked those relationships. He worked very hard and he was among the most-respected technology-lawyers in the country. He did very well for himself, and his family.

Things at home, though, were in turmoil. His daughter went to Stanford undergrad but had defied family tradition to go to Columbia for law school. Eric wanted nothing to do with Stanford, and he was going to Yale in the fall. Worse, Suzanne dropped out of law school after her first year and was now working for a start-up firm in Manhattan and blamed him and his wife for everything that had gone wrong for her.

William—suffering the trials of a modern-day Job—was also dealing with the fact that his wife of nearly twenty-five years left him. Out of the blue, she flew to New York, met a bunch of people and ultimately their daughter, came home and confronted him, and then, whoosh, she too moved to New York. His sister and his daughter were gay and Mary, the former, just got married and Suzanne, the latter, was engaged to a woman.

Thus, when people at the party asked, "Where's Kate?" William punted, "something came up and she couldn't make it," and when people asked him about Suzanne he lied and said that she was happy at school and loved working for a New York firm after completing her second year.

Kate's leaving had only begun to set it. They were simpatico since they met and after giving birth to Suzanne she easily slipped into her role as a stay-at-home mother, working hard on doing local charity work. They were there for one another when Kate had her miscarriages. They both shared a calling, finding security and peace in their faith and in their certainty about things. They were both raised Catholic, and they raised Suzanne and Eric to be true Catholics, although William and Kate spoke often over concerns that their children had drifted away from the true faith and were at best treating their religion, so central to their parents' lives, as an afterthought, considered only when convenient.

Even after Suzanne quit law school after her first year, Kate and William thought it was caused by the confusion she faced by having left California for the first time, compounded, again, by Mary's pernicious influence. Surely Suzanne would return to her true family and to her true faith. And she would be greeted, as the prodigal son was, with open hearts and minds. She could probably transfer her first year at Columbia Law and start up her second at Stanford and then follow the trail William and his own father established.

Something, though, happened some weeks before the cocktail party. Out of nowhere, something upset Kate. She told him that there was this woman, the mother of one of Suzanne's law-school friends, who claimed to care for Suzanne and who taunted Kate about losing her daughter forever. Kate, in desperation, had agreed to go to New York to rescue Suzanne, to break her free of those who had confused her. To get her to come home. They agreed, did Kate and William, that the important thing was to convince Suzanne to return, that Kate had to do what she could to meet alone with Suzanne.

Kate went. And neither she nor Suzanne came back. Sure, Kate showed up and confronted him about it, demanding that he, as she had, turn his back on something fundamental to his existence. He would not do that, and now she was gone. He knew, from what Kate had told him that Eric was likely to go too.

At that moment, at that cocktail party, William was numb. He knew that his task, his crusade, was to bring them back. He was a good lawyer. He would figure it out.

Getting a Job

For her part, after returning to New York, Kate had no idea what would happen. With Mary and Betty married and about to return from their honeymoon, Suzanne and Kerry convinced her to move into what had been Kerry's old room in Tuckahoe. They, unlike Mary, who worked from home, would be out on weekdays and Kate was, after all, Suzanne's Mother, and it was not fair that she impose on her sister-in-law and her bride. And there was still some residual bad-blood between Kate and her sister-in-law, though both denied it.

That agreed upon, and the things of Kate's that were at Mary's being moved, Kate took Betty to dinner. Kate had credit cards but did not know whether they would be canceled. In any case, she had no ready cash—all of her money was in joint accounts with William—and if she were to be independent she had to find a job. Betty was not only a psychologist but she was the only neutral among the inner circle into which Kate had entered.

The two worked out a strategy. Kate had not done paid work for a while, since she had Suzanne, but she had worked regularly over the past twenty-four years. She was, in fact, the de facto (and unpaid) CEO of her Mill Valley parish's outreach and charitable programs. She had a degree from Berkeley and worked in the financial industry before quitting to raise her family. She knew many people in the San Francisco area and identified ten women to whom she felt close and with whom she worked. She and Betty agreed that they were the place to start.

On the day after the holiday, July 5, she started dialing. She figured that while her absence from Church on the prior two Sundays—the first when she was in New York, the second when she felt going would be wrong—was noticed, her friends would not have been suspicious, assuming that she was either out of town or ill. She was sending sorry-I'll-get-back-to-you texts to those who called. She had to be careful. She did not want things to blow out of control with her friends. She felt an obligation to be truthful to them, or at least some of them, eventually. Just not yet.

The pitch was simple and accurate as far as it went. The kids were grown—Eric just graduated high school and was headed to Yale and Suzanne was already in New York—so it was a chance for Kate to have a new adventure with her children, with William well able to care from herself ("I hope" she said with a prepared feigned-laugh). So Kate could do with a job. She and Betty understood that the need for a paying job might raise flags with some but it was unavoidable. Might they have contacts with anyone in New York who might know of something, given how "you"—the friend on the other end of the line—"are familiar with my work"?

Most of those she spoke to wished her well and were sorry she went east but had no connections. Three, however, did. Two grew up in New York and went to college in the east and a third's brother moved to New York for a job in publishing.

Kate also reluctantly called the Church rectory. She kept it short and direct. Something had come up with her kids and she had to be in New York for a while. She left too quickly to do it in person, but she had to give up her duties. This was a shock to Monsignor Taylor, who was in nominal charge of the programs, but Kate recommended someone she knew could take her place and promised to provide any assistance, remotely, that she could for a smooth transition. The Monsignor wished her the best and said that he hoped to speak to her again soon and to see her in the not too distant future and that he would pray for her.

Kate did not appreciate how highly her work at the Church was valued. But the three with New York connections managed to get her several people to call and after a series of meetings and interviews, Kate found herself a job. Her first day was August 6. By that point, her story about coming east to be with her kids was widely circulated among and almost universally accepted by her friends in Mill Valley. The job was a mid-level position at a fashion-retail company on Seventh Avenue. She found a one-bedroom apartment on the Upper West Side, in a brownstone, a brownstone very like Meg Ryan's in "You've Got Mail," steps and all. She moved in on September 1.

Maya Yang

In California, while his wife was gone and lining up a job and an apartment in New York, William's routine changed little. He hired a twice-a-week housekeeper to take over some of the things that his wife had done. He went to work and came home late. Golf at his club on Saturdays, weather permitting; drinks at the Nineteenth Hole when it rained. Mass in Mill Valley on Sundays. Repeat.

His wife's departure and the turmoil that led to it coincided with something he did on a semi-regular basis. He was a mentor to former associates at the firm and sometimes, usually once or twice a year, had lunches with them. Maya Yang was one. She was an associate in William's department who left as a sixth-year associate when she was told she would not make partner. She now worked in the general counsel's office at a small tech firm in San Francisco. He'd seen her in January, and they had a lunch scheduled for July 12.

There was nothing special about her. An attractive Asian-American, she was slightly-built yet tall, with long, straight hair kept as William remembered his daughter kept it. Maya was simply another very smart, very hard-working former associate and their conversations had always been strictly professional. She knew almost nothing about his family, although she recalled seeing his wife at firm functions and knew his daughter was in law school in New York.

When they sat down, it was unusual, his ordering a Scotch. When he spoke, it was out of character. He began with almost a sneer: "You know, I thought my daughter would do what you did." By which he meant going to law school, working at a San Francisco firm, and making partner or getting a good job at a company in the city.

Maya had no idea what she was supposed to say to this or why he was saying it. She looked at him. He looked at his glass. "I wanted her to stay here but she had to go to New York. Now she's left law school after first year and is about to marry a woman and my wife has run off to be with her in New York."

Maya was embarrassed about being there for this but was also struck by how much he trusted her to confide like this. Still, she had no idea what she was supposed to say or do.

"Bill." He looked up. Shit, she thought, he wants me to provide some insight or comfort. "I'm sure you'll get together again soon." That was what she came up with. It did not matter; he was not listening. She was there for him only so there would be someone he could tell this to.

Which, of course, was worlds apart from what Maya thought her purpose, even after he threw a couple of twenties on the table and left, telling her to get herself a nice lunch.

Maya remained briefly but did not order anything and picked up a salad as she walked back to her office. It had been the most bizarre experience of her life. And she was trying to figure out what was so unsettling to him. So his daughter left law school; Maya knew plenty of classmates who did. And his daughter marrying another woman; we are in San Francisco, for god's sake, a live-and-let-live town, especially for gays. So it was his wife leaving. It must be his wife leaving.

The Rescue Attempt

Shortly after the "lunch," William called Maya to apologize, adding that he trusted that they would keep what he said between the two of them. "Of course."

She heard nothing from him for two months. She wondered what happened and whether he had gotten through whatever led him to open up. Out of the blue, on a Saturday in early September, he called. He started a monologue. He went to New York to try to "rescue" his daughter. He said he arranged to have a client meeting a few weeks before his daughter was to marry this friend of hers. (This surprised Maya, who thought his wife's leaving was the source of his crisis.)

The meeting ended, and he went to his daughter's company. They walked to a nearby park and after they sat down on a bench he told her that he came to take her home. She would not listen. He tried, but "she would not listen to me." Then she hit him with, "New York is my home now" and then she demanded he accept her being a lesbian and accept her marrying this other woman.

"She turned and walked away and I came home."

Maya unwisely asked him why he could not just accept his daughter.

"Jesus, Maya, don't you understand? What she is doing is so wrong and my job is to save her." When Maya tried to press the issue, he dismissed her with a "you don't understand. I have to go now" and he hung up.

Meeting Maya

William did not call for several weeks, but Maya understood he was suffering, though she could not fathom its depths. His silence increased her anxiety about him and her growing affection for him. But then he called on Sunday morning, September 23. "It's done," he said. His daughter had married another woman; he saw pictures on Facebook. He asked if he could take Maya for a drive and lunch. A first.

An hour later, the couple was across the Golden Gate Bridge on the way to Bodega Bay in his Tesla. William wore a scarlet Stanford polo-shirt and blue jeans—his paunch more visible than when he wore a suit—and dock-siders. Maya was in black slacks and wore a light blue collarless shirt and flats. Her hair in a ponytail.

They spoke little on the drive up, mostly about work and tech things relevant to their jobs and a bit about her family, just trying to pass the time. Maya was attempting to grasp what the hell was going on. It was big.

For his part, William had a pretty good idea of what the hell was going on. After his wife left in early July, he had what his father had described to him as "urges." He found himself increasingly exploring the internet for relief. But that was not-quite-satisfactory physically. Now he was sitting near the Pacific having lunch with Maya Yang.

Before ordering a second glass of red, he asked if she would drive them back, and he had the second when she said she would and then he began to hold court, telling her war stories of his early days at his firm.

After they finished, she drove south, the sun about an hour above the horizon. He asked if she had time to stop at his place and she did. It was dusk when she turned into his driveway. He was relaxed but he was not drunk, and she followed him into his house. Once inside, William stepped up and kissed her. She was surprised but pleased as he led her upstairs. He said his bed was a mess and led her into a bedroom across the hall and resumed kissing her, reaching to pull her shirt up and over her head, with her help. She was in her small bra, and he unclasped and removed it. Her nipples were hard, and he caressed her left boob with his soft right hand and she moaned, eyes closed. She could just about see her heart disappearing to him.

He quickly pulled the Stanford polo over his head and resumed his kissing as his hands now undid her belt and unbuttoned her button and she pulled her slacks off after kicking off her flats. Now she was naked except for her panties, and he quickly undid his belt and unbuttoned his button and his trousers were gone with his dock-siders and then he tore his underpants off as she did the same with her panties.

She started to lower herself to engulf him, but he stopped her. He wanted no sideshow. He wanted her, and he pulled the comforter off the bed and folded the blanket and top sheet to the side so he could lower Maya. She positioned herself in the middle and he positioned himself above her and his hands ran up and down her and then he lowered his head and she spread her legs as he reached her shaved pussy and in a moment his tongue was doing she-cared-not-what and she was mouthing she-cared-not-what as her hips began to rock beneath him and her hands ran through his balding hair.

He enjoyed her taste and inhaled her smell but it was not enough. He stopped and raised himself and the panic in her eyes was gone as he asked, "Is it safe?" and to her "I'm on the pill" his dick was suddenly inside her and for the first time, she felt what it was like to be made love to, to be filled by a man, this glorious, brilliant, wonderful, fucked-up man. She could love him. If she did not already.

To call her wet would be an understatement. Her juices, as they say, flowed, and he entered her with not the least resistance. His breathing and his thrusting accelerated, as did hers, and then after his grunt, she found herself filled by his wonderful cum as he exploded again and again. But as suddenly as he began and as quickly as he came, he was gone and she was alone. Frustrated as never before, she reached down and dipped her right fingers into herself and coated them with his seed and lifted them to her lips and tasted him and then she returned those fingers to her pussy and started pumping in-and-out as her left hand started a furious rubbing of her clit until she burst through an orgasm as strong and satisfying as any she ever experienced.