X-Ray Vision Ch. 11: Family

Her face clouded, definitely not the reaction I was hoping for, praying for.

"Why do I need a ring? We're already mated for life! You're my true love, and I'm yours. This ring doesn't change that."

"So, so we can get married?"

"Why? Why marriage? Some old ceremony, doesn't mean anything."

I looked helplessly at her, at Mama lurking in the kitchen door, wringing her hands.

Jillian saw my distress, softened.

"Look. I'm a bastard, I'm pretty cool. You're an orphan; we're not going to let that happen to ours. We don't need this."

Retrench, nodding and agreeing.

"I don't need anything more to know I love you, want to be with you as long as you will have me. I'll never love anyone else like I love you!"

Well, maybe when the baby arrived.

She was smiling now, looking tolerantly at me. Tried to return the ring.

I held her hand, closed it over the ring again, gently.

"But, maybe, not for us? For family, so they can share this, celebrate with us?"

She looked at me straight in the eyes, eyebrows lowered, serious.

"You are actually playing the family card? You should be ashamed of yourself."

I waited her out; she loved her family, loved Phuong, would do this for him if not for anyone else. She would cave, I knew it, she knew it.

She started to relent, I saw her shoulders relax, she sat back, as far back as that dress would let her. Then she got all alert again, studied my face. Like she could see through me, maybe not like I do but still she saw me, saw I was not saying everything.

"There's something else." Said as a fact.

"Ok, yeah. It's just, traditional? To give a ring. After you, um, after you have knocked up your girl."

She rolled her eyes. "Ha. Very funny." Looked again, squinting. "You're not joking?"

Uh-uh. I cracked a smile, too happy, too proud to keep it inside. Shyly looked down at her tummy, back in her face. Nodded, slowly, deliberately, twice, grinning, like a fool.

"Oh! Oh! OH! GREG!" She bounced in her chair, for all the world like a girl of 16, sudden joy on her features, mouth open in astonishment.

I figured this was the best opening I was gonna get. Skidded my chair back, came around the table, took the ring from her, fell into full proposal posture, on one knee, ring raised in my cupped hands, looking her right in the face, in those beautiful eyes.

"Jillian, will you marry me?" Got it out, then lost my breath, couldn't inhale again for some reason, my diaphragm just seized up, waiting.

She nodded, that yes-I-will-marry-you frantic happy nod, both hands to her tummy, her eyes looking somewhere in the middle distance, her mind a million miles away then right back again, right at me.

"Yes! YES!" She said it. Loud, so I would hear, loud enough for the whole room to hear. And took my face in her hands, kissed me like I'd never been kissed before, a happy-pregnant-soontobewife sort of kiss, the very best kind, you had to be there.

It went better after that. I could breathe again. Took one of her hands, the left one I think, slipped the ring on, Khang had nailed it of course, it fit like a glove.

She looked at it, for the first time noticing how awesomely amazing it was. Stared a bit, like a bird stares at a snake, or a mouse at a cat, unwilling to take her eyes off, not quite believing it was real, not quite believing she had caved after all.

I saw Mama in the kitchen door, smiling, joyful, relieved. Coming over.

"Jillian! Oh, I'm so happy for you!" She bent over Jill, held her by the shoulders, kissed her on both cheeks. Took her hand, admired the ring, smiling and smiling. Broke the trance, Jillian coming back to herself, thanking Mama, still a little stunned.

"Jillian said yes!" Mama Conti announced to nobody in particular, like they hadn't already heard.

Applause, all those old Italian couples at their early-bird supper actually applauded! Smiles everywhere, nodding. The wives got up, came over, surrounded Jillian, congratulating her, admiring the ring, not sure it was real I imagine, it was so unlikely, so spectacular, could it be?

The husbands waited patiently but when their wives didn't return, they put down their napkins, came over too. Pulled me up, shook my hand, slapped my back, told me Good Man! and Lucky Guy! and all the normal phrases of congratulating the groom without actually saying Congratulations!

Jillian weathered it all, getting progressively more emotional, trying valiantly to thank them all in turn but now crying and not able to get the words out.

Mama was patient, finally put an end to it, shooed them away, a couple of the older ladies hanging back, kissing Jillian one more time, wringing her hands, giving their blessing, finally left us alone, back to their supper.

Jillian's face was a mess, tears smearing her makeup, dripping from her nose, her chin. Bawling now but happy, happy. I pulled my chair over, sat by her, put an arm around her, held her, petted her until she could talk again.

"You pull a stunt like that again, I'll rip your liver out." Said it quietly, between sobs, snuggling in close, burying her face in my shoulder, both hands on my arm.

"That was a one-time thing, no worries. I figure I can just coast now."

She giggled, sobbed some more, softly now, snerked. Sat up, wiped her chin with her arm, snotty and wet. I grabbed my napkin, blotted at her face, gently, got the worst of it.

We left shortly after, I grabbed a waiter on the way, stuffed our theatre tickets into her pocket, asked to have our dinner boxed and sent over, gave her a couple bills from my roll. She said Yes Sir! and got busy.

Larry was outside in his cab, reading a paper, looked up when I knocked. Jumped out, got alarmed when he saw the state Jillian was in, relaxed when she smiled at him, showed him the ring.

"Congratulations miss! Should I take you home now?" Yes, she nodded.

Safely inside the cab, warm and cozy as Larry had promised, heater on full, he got us moving.

Fully dark, the sun completely set, we moved through the black, apparently motionless in the featureless night, just the occasional light passing like a beacon, strobing across us, illuminating my love briefly, startlingly, so beautiful my heart nearly burst every time.

"Well, that was it."

"What?" concerned.

"The last time I'll wear this dress. What I haven't ruined with snot, will never fit anyway. I'll never be this size again - you know what pregnancy will do to me?"

I smiled, my imagination up to the task. Kissed her on the cheek, put one finger to her chin, kissed her on the mouth. Told her I loved her.

"I know, silly. I've always known."

...

We sat on barstools at our counter, well past midnight, eating lasagna out of boxes the messenger had brought, still warm. Showered, starving, naked, it didn't seem important to wear clothes now, we were going to bed soon.

She kept looking at herself, holding her tummy, smiling a little smile I knew I'd see again and again, all our young lives.

"No more Girl's night out! Not for months!" I was concerned for her health, those two could get up to all sorts of risky behavior.

"No problem. Sister-Baby nights will do until then. First one, tomorrow night!"

Sounded better, as long as no drinking went on.

"We'll need a new place." Jillian looked around the condo critically.

I nodded, resigned to this. Even if we could fit one more in here, no way were we fitting two, five, ten, a dozen. It was inevitable. Gonna miss the condo, it had been my haven for nearly a decade.

"That mansion in the country? Is it far enough?"

I knew what she was asking; could I stand it? Was it enough removed from people and activity, quiet enough for me to keep my sanity, to sleep soundly? To raise kids, train them until they could manage the world safely, keep away the night terrors?

"Yes! If we buy a mile of land in every direction so no development happens, probably the entire old research station. Plant a perimeter of trees, helps screen the world. We can keep it quiet that way, forever."

She nodded; one problem solved. Except for the millions! No way our bank account would run that far.

"Raising our superkids there, gonna cost a bundle. Fixing the place up; building a better road. Generator! Well and septic! Nannys and tutors and maybe a cook? A driver? So Khang and Phuong can come and go as they wish."

She thought on that. "How will we fund it? That's years of foraging. We have a year, maybe two before it's critical. Then what?"

I sighed, resigned to my fate. I didn't want to; I hadn't managed it as a kid, but a father has responsibilities, has to man up.

"I'm gonna have to learn to swim."

She looked confused, then enlightenment! Then devious.

"Tito can swim. Kelly says he has a diving instructor's certificate."

My smart girlfriend, always two steps ahead of me. I smiled, relieved, of course we had friends, we could bring Tito in! I could aim him, he could do the actual salvage, we split it, something agreeable to all of us. Fund his agency, fulfill his dream of being a bounty hunter. Maybe marry Kelly, the two of them would make a great team.

And I wouldn't have to get my feet wet.

"Sounds like a plan!"

"Well, that's decided. We can get started right away. I'll ask Kelly to invite Tito over, we can sound him out."

I had eaten my fill, felt suddenly exhausted. It'd been a busy day, lots of changes. This morning felt like years ago!

"Come to bed?" I gave her a weak smile, hoping she understood I meant, 'to sleep'.

"Long as you don't try to get too friendly! I'll need extra sleep for a while. Probably be napping a lot too."

That sounded just fine to me. Kamikaze sex-girl was a lot of fun, but sleepy cuddly Jillian was fun too, and a lot less tiring!

I stood, took our takeout boxes, put them in the fridge. Tossed the forks in the sink, later.

Took her hand, my wife's hand, the mother of my children, the love of my life, led her into the back bedroom. Lay down, waited for her to get comfortable. Scooted over, spooned, naked skin from neck to toe, just snuggling. She gave a happy moan, snuggled right back.

New for me; I have slept on my back forever. But for some reason, now, I knew I would have to hold her in my arms, skin to skin from here on out. Safe.

It took me a bit to actually sleep, everything so different. Nobody in Billie's room; too quiet. Laying on my side, facing the ocean.

Gonna miss the ocean.

Had a thought.

"We might want to move a trailer out there, while the big house is being fixed up? Be on-site for any issues that come up."

I thought I heard her mumble something, listened closely. Nope. Just her little adorable snuffles. She was fast asleep.

Which was wonderful. My routine was defined by Jillian. Waking up with Jillian, then a bunch of stuff over the day, of no real consequence. Then going to sleep with Jillian. A perfect life, every day bracketed by our time together.

Funny how I felt even closer to her when she was asleep, in my arms, warm and soft, dreaming whatever dreams normal people have.

Safe here, with me, I'll make sure of that. I won't let any trouble come within miles of my family, not here, not in the new place. Not ever.

...

Monday

"I don't like it."

Billie was trying on outfits, selected by Khang. We'd met early, doing some canvassing in the upscale district together, leaving her marketing cards as we went. Normally these businesses don't do that, but apparently BRS had a reputation among their wealthy clients. That, and Billie was dang persuasive. Maybe my reputation, by now, carried a little weight too, who knows.

Anyway, we had batted about.500, every other business glad to take a couple, keep them by the register.

I thought it'd be a struggle to get Billie into the tailor shop. But she spotted it and hared on ahead, jingled in the door without any hesitation. By the time I got there she was bowing to Mr. Nguyen, chatting up Khang!

So adaptable, the young. Left her life of servitude and patronizing adults only to accept new people just as she found them, respect them as their culture required, give as well as take. A healthy sign, I think. Probably because now, she got respect in return? And she adored Jillian, that was clear, wanted very much to be liked by her family.

So Khang had chatted her up, sized her up, taken her back for a makeover. Two chummy women, not really that far apart in age, laughing and trying wild outfits. This took a while in my experience. I settled in to observe.

They asked my opinion at first, but quickly grew tired of that. I had nothing to say but "Very Interesting!" and things of that vein. No help at all.

The current sequence was knits and baggy shorts, some kind of multi-color scarf. Hideous, in my opinion. Something the young folk were into? That changed too fast for me to have any hope of keeping current.

Khang gave that outfit the once-over, shook her head, "Too young!", pulled Billie into the back again without even waiting for me to weigh in. Good; I would have had a hard time being complimentary.

They both knew, of course, being discreet was pointless; I saw everything that went on in back too. It's important to go through the motions, keep up the appearance of decency. I'll do my part, let everyone feel safe and private, never mention the things I see that I shouldn't normally be seeing. It wouldn't be polite! Just like we don't mention the noises we hear behind a bathroom door, pretend they never happened. These little charades are what civilization is made of.

They'd given up on knits. Probably tried them all; it seemed like it to me. On to sleeveless shirts and jeans! Timeless, they'd been wearing that when I was in High School.

Billie burst out, showing off the next outfit. Still too young. Sleeveless collarless T with some puff-paint cartoon character, pink and girly. Billie made gagging sounds with two fingers in her mouth; Khang laughed out loud! They got into a fit of giggles, stumbled into the back again.

Two customers came and went, pickups; Phuong busied himself finding tags on hangars and taking payment. Some graduation party for somebody, lots of stuff on the rack, lots of pickups. No time for me and tea today! A busy day.

Maybe Phuong did have a busy schedule! I don't really know how his life is arranged; I usually visit in the slack time, when everybody else is at work.

Ok, another outfit: wife-beater shirt, barely any fabric at all. Spaghetti straps, narrow back showing shoulder skin from neck to mid-back. Front was baggy and just covering the naughty bits, lots of side-boob visible. Short! Belly button on display. Jean cutoffs, tight and scandalously brief! Hardly contained her, meant to show everything off. The kind of outfit that gave parents a heart attack, when their 15-year-old went out in it.

Billie took her time with that one, at the full-length mirror, turning this way and that. Seemed astonished by what she saw: herself, all mature and sexy looking; dangerously hot. Not something she'd worn to church back home, for sure!

Khang was tapping her chin, thinking.

"Nobody take you seriously in that." She had good judgement, had pegged Billie as a young person who was trying to look more grownup. But this? Maybe not the kind of grown-up Billie had in mind.

Billie seemed of two minds; it definitely broke all the molds she'd been crammed into back home. But who was it for? Not for her, it was definitely eye-candy for some guy or gal.

She finally agreed, allowed herself to be led into the back again. I had a feeling Billie would return some day, maybe not even this year, to try that look again. When she had somebody to show off for?

They switched direction entirely, from young-female-sexy to all-business.

The next go-round was like something Khang would wear. Sedate wool skirt, starched collared shirt and short blazer. A tie! Looked expensive, subtle piping on the skirt, the jacket just a hint of style.

Her bare legs, bare feet did something to detract from the effect, but still very professional.

Billie didn't want to like it; I could see that. Too much like I'd heard her say about her 'Debbie Normal' outfit. There to please the blue-haired ladies, to blend in, be inoffensive, not matter.

But that had been young-girl formal, sedate. This was definitely grown-up businesswoman, serious. A whole 'nother thing.

Khang watched her, alert for feedback. I felt maybe it was time for me to say something.

"Some clients would find that... comforting, familiar. Like a costume for the theatre - you look the part, it sets folks at ease, they can watch the performance undistracted. Not for every client, have to be selective."

She pretended not to listen, didn't respond. But she did relax, look at it differently. Working through things in her head. Did she dress for herself? Mostly. But the costume angle - that was legitimate, canny, tactically useful.

Khang had decided Billie needed this one; she was tugging at the shoulders, straightening the skirt, brushing off lint. Ready to do her thing, make it fit perfectly, make Billie look like a million bucks.

"That look would be most suitable at a Women's Auxiliary luncheon. The look of a significant woman, there to be heard."

Phuong was standing right behind me, caught me off guard, startled me. And impressed me, once I'd parsed what he said.

He was no fool! Had been selling clothes for longer than Khang had been alive. Knew what made sense to a client, what would resonate.

Billie flashed him a grateful smile over one shoulder. "Mr. Nguyen, you don't think it's boring?"

He tilted his head, acknowledging that. "Yes, perhaps. Boring in the right way? Showing respect for the venue, for the audience. But when Miss Khang is finished, stylish enough to communicate confidence, competence, even substance."

He was plucking all the right strings, and it worked. I saw Billie's posture grow alert, dynamic. She began to pose, model the outfit. Like an actor prepping to go onstage, trying out arm gestures, persuasive, demanding, authoritative.

Finally, she looked at Khang, nodded Yes! "This one, for sure!"

"You'll knock 'em dead! Nobody can resist the power of Executive Woman!" Khang was teasing, at the same time matching Billie's mood, encouraging her to let out the woman she had inside. Love my sister-in-law.

They went back again, to try more outfits? I didn't know. But it was approaching lunch hour, when the shop closed for Phuongs mid-day vegetables and tea. No power on earth could shift that schedule.

And yes they were done, for now. Phuong was turning the door sign to 'Closed Temporary' as they emerged, Billie and Khang chatting, Billie in her street clothes. Khang with a Vietnamese newspaper open, they'd been sharing something in there animatedly.

"This was you, right?" Khang threw the paper in my general direction. I caught it, rearranged, turned to the center section she'd been reading.

All in Vietnamese! But the pictures, they told the story.

The standard opening-day shot of the Richardson Hotel. The English words 'Sierra Club' embedded in masses of Vietnamese writing. Clipart of a silhouetted man, a question mark over the blank face. Me, I supposed, the anonymous investigator that found the will.

Another picture, the Mayor and the Sierra Club rep I'd met, smiling, shaking hands, holding an official document. Clearly the City didn't contest the will, glad to surrender the property, a white elephant, probably for a token payment, back taxes, utilities accrued.

Other shots of the work in progress, some of the treasures brought down from the penthouse. Some of my photos, uncredited! Furniture, paintings, even brass fittings piled in a crate. A flatbed truck, covered with artifacts of every kind.

A desk set, paperweight, inkwell, gold pen, laid out for a pretty photograph. Some famous designer or maker?