Chapter Sixteen: Blue Eyes is Sweet

I rushed to my truck, Blue Eyes hurrying behind me as best he could with his bad leg. Finally, he stopped in the parking garage and yelled, "Just pick me up as you speed by!" And, of course, I did. He scrambled in the truck and asked, as we peeled out of the Radisson's garage, about our destination.

"I have to go see Zelda. And feed her before I'm again wearing her milk."

"Are we really going to meet Cruella for lunch?"

My jaws were clenched so tightly I thought the enamel would be automatically ground from my teeth. "You can spend your afternoon watching 'The Next Top Model' with Wilson for all I care. I have to get my mother on a plane to Alabama as soon as possible."

"Tiger," he said in a caressing voice, "has she always treated you this way?"

"Both of us – Greg and me. Okay, she picked on me."

He shook his face; his jaws were now clenched. "I thought my family owned the definition of dysfunction, but they make Lucretia appear bloodless. She isn't a vampire, is she?"

"If she were I'd have a silver bullet in my pocket," I said without a hint of humor.

"You hate her."

"Pretty much," I answered. "But more for the way she treated Greg. I won't let her ruin Zelda's life."

"I may be wrong here, but I don't think she has any intention of even seeing Zelda."

"Oh, she'll see her, if only to tell me how small she is, how ugly, how weak, how intellectually affected she'll be, how she could very well be a cripple like Greg." I spoke quicker and quicker, and as I spoke, I drove quicker and quicker.

Blue Eyes gripped his door handle as I whipped into a parking space. "Blue Eyes, you were a prince this morning, but I really don't expect you to go through any more of this. It's not worth it to you."

"Tiger, I'm going with you to see Zelda, and I'll have lunch with Attila. After all, you love me."

I rolled my eyes and slapped my forehead as we exited the truck.

While I calmed down enough to coax Zelda in her attempt to learn how to suck, my milk cascading over her face, Blue Eyes disappeared briefly. I assumed he needed to take care of his hospital business. When he returned to the unit and touched me on the shoulder, I sadly returned Zelda to her home. "She recognizes your touch, your smell, your voice," Blue Eyes said quietly as we walked to the truck.

"You think so?" I asked excitedly.

He nodded. "I've been watching her. She's much more relaxed when you're holding and feeding her. And she gained two ounces these last two days."

I did a redneck version of a victory dance, ending with my arms locked around Blue Eyes' neck. "You know how much I needed that news," I crowed while looking into his eyes.

"Yes, I know. But it's also the truth, Little Mama. Now, come on – it's noon and your lovely yellow top is stained with Zelda's lunch. We need to spruce you up before we meet the Black Widow."

"Sh!t," I spat. "Oh, Blue Eyes, is there a nice restaurant we can take her to?"

"Plenty, but since she doesn't eat, is there really any reason to bother?"

I gave him a stern look, and he nodded.

"Let's go to the hotel, and I'll make a reservation while you change."

I pulled out my trusty white sweater and belted it, praying for the illusion of a waist, and applied a subtle layer of makeup. Blue Eyes was reclined on the bed watching "Top Chef."

"Do you have any idea how many different kinds of edible oysters there are?" Blue Eyes asked with wonder.

I was brushing out my hair. "Are you planning on ordering oysters for lunch?"

"Lizzie Borden doesn't like them?"

"Of course not."

"Then we'll definitely order them."

"Blue Eyes, January has an 'R' in it."

The room phone rang, and before I could answer it, Blue Eyes snagged it. "Den of iniquity with two legal, heterosexual adults engaged in totally kinky sex. However, we are looking for a third . . ."

He knew, and I knew he knew, it was my mother.

He somewhat meekly hung up the phone. "We're meeting her in the lobby in ten minutes."

We marched to meet her as if we were marching to board the last transport for Vulcan. She was standing by the lobby doors, a cigarette held delicately in her left hand. She had changed into a black pantsuit with a platinum and diamond brooch. She handed Blue Eyes her overcoat, and he awkwardly helped her into it one-handed.

"So, where are the three of us going?" she asked.

Since Greg's car was larger than my truck, he excused himself to retrieve it. In his absence Mother scrutinized me.

"Why did you have this baby, Audra? Abortions are legal up north, aren't they?"

"I wanted Zelda, Mother."

"I can't imagine why," she stated as she impatiently inhaled her cigarette. "You're single, alone, and you have the opportunity to further your education, even though you're a bit long in the tooth. A baby at your age will only slow you down."

"Speaking of my education, I've been offered my own program to run. An online developmental English curriculum, so I will be a full-fledged employee with a salary and benefits, an office and employees of my own." I knew the things that impressed my mother.

"Is that so?" she asked with one arched eyebrow. "And you will be able to handle this and continue your doctoral studies?"

"Yes. As I matter of fact, I have an article coming out in next month's Contemporary Literary Criticism. It's called, 'The Americanization of Simon Gray's Quintessentially English Butley.'"

Mother, having completely lost interest in my literary mumbo jumbo, ground her butt under her foot even though we were still in the hotel lobby. I cringed.

"And with all of these new responsibilities, how ever will you take care of a baby needing constant medical attention?"

"I will take care of her the same way I took care of Greg," I responded, allowing my voice to rise above the acceptable, ladylike dulcet tones.

Blue Eyes' car stopped; Mother stood outside the passenger door and waited until B.E., grumpily, limped around the car and opened her door. As he closed it after her, he rolled his eyes at me. He whispered into my ear as he opened the rear door for me, "Why does she get to sit in the front?"

"Because she's the matriarch."

He seemed to slam the door a bit enthusiastically.

He drove us to the restaurant. B.E. had reserved the private cellar with its own private waiter in the subterranean Italian restaurant, Sotto Ristorante and Lounge. The cavernous, stone-walled eatery was in the heart of the university district. Blue Eyes had also ordered a couple of bottles of wine, Gaja Barbaresco 1999. The waiter filled each of our glasses after allowing B.E. to sample and approve it. Mother sniffed it daintily and set it back on the table.

"This wine," he began, "is from the Piedmont region in northern Italy where the Nebbiolo grape flourishes. You can see by the color it's a deeply tinted wine. It needs to be aged and develops a generous floral bouquet and exquisite elegance. It is one of the few Italian wines worth the price." B.E. smiled at me, and we raised our glasses and drank together.

Mother lit a cigarette and opened her menu.

"Imogene," B.E. said in an unusually charming voice, "would you please allow me to order for you?"

"Dr. House, my tastes are . . ."

"The food here is excellent, Imogene," B.E. continued while wresting the menu from her hand. "I'm sure I can select something you will find palatable."

The waiter arrived promptly.

Blue Eyes asked him to wait a second and then turned to me. "May I order for you as well, Little Mama?" he asked in a similar, sugary voice.

I nodded out of shock.

Blue Eyes turned to the waiter. "We'll start with Antipasto Di Sotto and Calamari Fritti, with plates for all of us so we can share. Imogene will have Ravioli Ripieno – that's homemade ravioli in a creamy pink vodka sauce – while my lady here will have the Insalata Portabello, and I will have Cavatelli con Salsicia. That should be all." Blue Eyes grinned a self-satisfied grin.

"Dr. House," my mother finally broke her silence, "is there a particular reason you chose a restaurant in a dungeon?"

"The ambiance seemed to fit your personality, Imogene," Blue Eyes responded in the same, calm voice.

The waiter added more wine to our glasses; Mother had reluctantly tasted the luscious beverage. He then brought our appetizers. Mother nibbled at the fresh mozzarella, the roasted peppers, and the grilled vegetables, but she wouldn't touch the calamari. Blue Eyes tucked in with a healthy appetite, relishing every delicacy. I was so distracted enjoying his obvious sensual fulfillment, I almost forgot to try anything myself.

Holding to his role as devoted partner, Blue Eyes paused long enough to feed me a bite of the calamari. "Isn't it just heavenly, Little Mama? Cooked to perfection."

The sweeter he was, the more uneasy I became; I feared he had a plan. I snuck a piece of paper and a pen from my bag and scribbled down, "How much is this wine?"

He laughed when he read my question as if it were a lover's note, but he scribbled back, "$220 a bottle. Salute!"

I choked on the bit of grilled pepper I had been chewing. Blue Eyes leaned over and patted my back. "Do I need to Heimlich you?"

I shook my head, but I grabbed my wine glass.

My mother made a clucking sound with her tongue. She lit a cigarette and waved for the waiter to remove her plate.

"Did you not enjoy your antipasto, Imogene?" B.E. asked with false solicitation.

"Dr. House, I'm not accustomed to highly seasoned food."

"Well, perhaps you'll find the ravioli more to your taste."

The waiters cleared our plates and served our main courses. My salad was heavenly, a flavorful combination of mesculine greens, tomatoes, cucumbers, and roasted red peppers topped with portabello mushrooms and parmigiano cheese, all drizzled with Balsamic vinaigrette. Combined with the delicate bouquet of the wine, I was quickly becoming lightheaded and giddy with sensory overload.

Mother nibbled at her ravioli, but she had begun to enjoy her wine with more gusto. The waiter kept our glasses filled.

And Blue Eyes was not only savoring the wine, but he was tasting every bit of his dish, the cavatelli, the Italian sausage, the broccoli rabe, and the rich oil and garlic sauce as if her were a food critic and preparing to write a major review. As he finally began to slow down, he once again addressed my mother.

"Imogene, are you interested in going by the hospital to visit your granddaughter?"

"Why ever did you give her such an unusual name as Zelda, Audra?" she turned to me.

"Probably the same reason you named me Florine," I retorted.

"You were named after your grandmother. That is the way of families. No one in our family has ever been named Zelda."

"But someone in my family is now named Zelda."

"Audra and I are very fond of the baby's name, Imogene," Blue Eyes said.

I looked at him with concern.

"Dr. House, as I've said before, if she were your daughter, your opinion would have some weight. However . . ."

"I have been debating bringing this up, Imogene, because I know Little Mama here wanted to keep it between the two of us, but since Zelda's parentage, or the identity of her father, seems to be of so much significance to you, I thought I'd settle this now."

I started to hyperventilate as Blue Eyes pulled an envelope out of his jacket pocket. "When Little Mama, here, and I were visiting Zelda earlier, I used my pull to get a copy of her birth certificate so we could lay the question of her parentage to rest."

"Blue Eyes," I exclaimed in a truly vulgar tone. "Please, no."

"Audra," Mother cautioned me. "Control yourself. We may be in a dungeon, but we are in a public place." She lit yet another cigarette.

"Please, Blue Eyes, don't do this. Not here," I begged.

Blue Eyes smiled reassuringly at me, and I felt certain he had gone completely mad. "Darling girl, I know this isn't what you wanted, but I see no reason to prolong the suspense or your mother's visit. Once she understands about Zelda and that you won't be alone caring for her, I'm sure she'll be reassured and have no further need to carry on her inquisition." He smiled the entire time he spoke.

I drained my glass of ungodly expensive wine.

Blue Eyes handed the birth certificate to my mother. She reached inside her purse and extracted a pair of black rimmed reading glasses and set them daintily on her nose. She shook out the document and began reading.

I reached across to grab Blue Eyes' forearm, digging in my nails, but he gave me a beatific look and signaled the waiter to pour the two of us more wine. He whispered to me, "Tiger, everything will be fine. She'll be on a plane out of here tonight."

"But," I stuttered as I tried to also swallow some more wine, "you did remove Jim's name as the father, didn't you?"

He placed his palm caressingly against my cheek, saying, "You realize all of this affection is for Eva Peron's benefit?"

"Of course. I knew you would never be sincerely romantic towards me."

"So," my mother announced as she folded the certificate and removed her glasses, "Zelda is your responsibility, Dr. House. How do you plan to provide for her?"

"What?" I yelped as Blue Eyes squeezed my knee.

"I plan to provide for her just fine. If you'll return her birth certificate, I'd like to escort Tiger outside. Your cigarette smoke has irritated her lungs. We'll wait for you to finish."

Blue Eyes all but drug me up the stairs and into the bar area of the restaurant.

"Let me see the birth certificate!"

"Here," he said and handed it to me. "I'll be right back."

While he chatted with a waiter, I scanned the document. Blue Eyes had, inexplicably, removed Jim's name as the father and replaced it with his own name. I searched for him, my breathing shallow, as he returned. "Blue Eyes, why?"

Before any more could be said, I fainted. Blue Eyes caught me and motioned for the waiter to call an ambulance. He smiled as he lifted me into the emergency vehicle; he had instructed the waiter to deliver the bill to Imogene.