Chapter Twenty: Wilson Moves In

When I entered the townhouse, my townhouse, I saw a light in the living room. Mother was curled up on the edge of the sofa, the sound muted on the television, a glass of watered down whiskey beside her. I sat in a chair across from her.

"Why are you still up?"

"Waiting on you, dear," she answered, slurring only slightly.

"Did you send Jim home?" I asked.

"I sent him to bed. He's in the spare room downstairs."

I straightened up in my chair. "You gave Jim Zelda's room?"

She sipped her drink. "He's been living in a hotel, darling. We can't have that."

"Mother, you invited Jim to move in?"

"I didn't really invite him, but it seems to be a convenient solution. He's an excellent cook."

"But you don't even like food." I shook my head. "Are you and Jim having some sort of . . ."

"Audra, do not dare suggest anything vulgar." She took another drink. "James is a lovely, perfectly respectable gentleman. A young gentleman."

I relaxed back in my chair. "But I'm now sharing my townhouse with him, and with you. And I've lost Zelda's room. All of this while on a date with Blue Eyes. Sh!t."

"I was afraid you'd spend the night with him."

"First date, Mother. Starting at scratch."

She laughed. "You can't go backwards." She paused. "The baby's father – it wouldn't be that doctor you dated for awhile?"

"We're pretending Zelda's father is Blue Eyes, for the record. Off the record, she's fatherless."

"You love this doctor, don't you, Audra?"

"I wouldn't know how it felt, Mother. I have no idea."

She stretched tiredly. "Go to bed, Audra. You don't want to be late for your new job."

I stood up, kissed her upturned cheek out of habit, and went to bed. When I awoke the next morning and finished my shower, I exited my bedroom to find both Mother and Jim in the kitchen, drinking coffee and chatting.

"Good morning," Jim said. He was apparently cooking omelettes.

I declined his offer of coffee. I went to the refrigerator to get a bottle of water. "Do you always get up so early, Jim?"

He was dressed for work. He flipped an omelette onto a plate and offered it to me. "I like to get to the hospital early. Make my rounds."

"Thanks," I said as I took my plate to the table and joined Mother. "I'm going to go by there and feed Zelda before I go to the university."

Mother was picking at her omelette and drinking coffee. "Is there anything I need to do here while you're gone?"

I smiled evilly at her. "Since Jim cooked, you can do the dishes. And my laundry. And vacuum. And . . . "

She held up her hand. "I get the idea, Audra."

Jim finally joined us with his omelette. "Audra, I hope it didn't bother you I spent the night . . ."

I extended my arms. "You're welcome here, Jim. It's ridiculous for you to stay in a hotel if you're going to be hanging out here, anyway. Why don't you just move your things in? Mother's excellent at ironing dress shirts."

Jim and Mother exchanged looks.

"Audra, I didn't mean to invite myself."

I took my dishes to the sink. "You didn't invite yourself, Jim. Mother asked for you. I'll see you two this evening."

When I finished nursing Zelda, I took a side trip by Blue Eyes' office. I knew it was far too early for him to have arrived, but I had a desire to see his desk, his red ball, his globe, the detritus on his desk. When I reached it, the conference room was open and bright. I pushed the door open and saw Allison making coffee.

"Can I help you?" she asked stiffly. She looked very uncomfortable.

"Would you mind if I leave a note for Dr. House?"

She shook her head. I searched for a piece of paper; finally, she handed me some notepaper and a pen. I had to think.

Dear Blue Eyes,

I stopped by to feed Zelda. I don't plan to work a full day, so I thought I'd come back by to feed her sometime this afternoon. If you think you might be free for a visit, call me at the university and let me know.

Audra

I thought it sounded a bit unfriendly, but I knew Allison would read it, and I didn't want her to glean anything about our date from it. I toyed with telling him Jim was moving in, but I worried his reaction would not be favorable. I elected to allow Jim the chance to deliver that tidbit.

"Will you give this to him?" I asked Allison, handing her the note.

"Of course."

As I turned to leave, I ran into Jim.

"Hello again," he said with a cheery smile.

"Are you going to tell Blue Eyes you're moving in?" I asked as we strolled away from the conference room and Allison's ears.

"He'll react with jealousy, you know."

"It's also none of his business, Jim. And neither of us has done anything to give him a valid reason to be jealous."

He chuckled. "Since when does House need a valid reason for anything?"

I spent the rest of the morning in my university office. I was teaching three online courses this semester, so Cindy and Troy helped me prepare the online syllabi and writing modules for them. I hurriedly wrote an independent study proposal for the summer and had it delivered to David. I received a request from Joel for course descriptions for the new catalog, as well as an agenda for future meetings with various departments and instructors to popularize the services and assistance we could provide. I finally took a break at lunchtime; Troy fetched me a grilled chicken salad from a nearby deli. While I was eating, I called my father.

"Will Jeffrey," he answered his work phone.

"Hi, Daddy. It's Audra."

"Well, hello, honey. How are you?"

"I'm fine. And Zelda, your granddaughter, is getting stronger. She's topped three pounds now."

There was an uncomfortable silence.

"Daddy, Mother has moved with me into a townhouse I'm renting. She doesn't seem to want to come home. Could you shed some light on her reticence?"

"Your mother, I am sure, has her reasons," was his curt reply.

"Are you two bickering again?"

"Is there anything else you wanted, Audra? Do you need money?"

That was my father; when in doubt, offer cash.

"I was hoping you'd come visit. Maybe this weekend."

"I'll think about it. I really must go, Audra."

I was frustrated with my father's complacency in the face of my mother's defection. I finally called Greg.

"You've got to come convince Mother to go home," I told him as soon as he answered his cell phone.

"Cissy, I'm in the middle of a business lunch. Could we discuss this later?" he asked.

"Nothing to discuss. Get your butt down here this weekend to talk to Mother."

"I'll take your suggestion under advisement. I'll talk to you this evening."

Somehow, I didn't expect Greg was going to heed my demands. I hung up the phone feeling impotent.

By two I was exhausted and needed to relieve the discomfort of my aching breasts. I headed to the hospital even though I hadn't heard from Blue Eyes.

Zelda was awake and alert, and she seemed stronger while she actually nursed successfully. I got up to replace Zelda when Blue Eyes, hovering unseen and scowling unhappily, stepped forward and took her from me. He cradled her in his arms, humming soothingly, and said, "Got your note. You weren't going to stop by my office just because I didn't call you?"

"I was loath to interrupt you. And Mother moved Jim in. I just elected not to evict him."

He returned a sleeping Zelda to her crib. "Are you telling me Idi Amin is running your household?"

"Would you really be surprised?"

We removed our protective gowns and walked outside the nursery. "Are they dating?"

I shook my head. "The most I can figure is he cooks and listens. What he's getting out of it is anyone's guess."

"Then no one will mind if I come over for supper tonight?"

I stopped, hand on hip, and looked at him. "I thought we were dating?"

"And you're having me over for supper tonight."

"I didn't think dating was so confrontational."

"It's the House version."

I shrugged. "I learn so much from you. And you'd better ask Jim if he minds adding you to his supper guest list."

"He won't mind." He reached out and touched my hand. "Wouldn't you prefer to just come over to my apartment for take-out?"

I smiled at the little-boy look he gave me. "Maybe. But I think I'd be safer with Mother and Jim chaperoning."

When I got home from the hospital, I found Mother in the laundry room ironing sheets.

"Why on earth are you ironing bed sheets?" I asked in shock.

She smiled condescendingly at me. "Only heathens sleep on unpressed sheets."

I just laughed at her. "I'm going to take a nap. Blue Eyes has invited himself for supper. I assume Jim is cooking?"

She clucked impatiently. "He has some steaks marinating. He's fixing blackened meat. Something Cajun. You know I only pretend to understand what he's saying when he talks about food."

"That reminds me. I talked to Daddy during lunch." I watched, but her face showed no emotion. "I asked him to come up here. To see Zelda."

"You know he's very busy at work," was her only response.

I laid down in bed and found myself thinking about Blue Eyes. I was losing the ability to think of him without my emotions getting in the way. And I particularly didn't want to examine those.

The closing of the front door around six woke me from my nap. I expressed milk for Zelda. Then, I put on my jeans and a Three Dog Night t-shirt, washing my face and brushing my teeth before I joined the pair in the kitchen. Mother was parked at the table, a tumbler of some dark-colored liquid near her hand, and Jim was tying on an apron. They were both laughing.

"What am I interrupting?" I asked as I put the breast milk in the refrigerator.

"Not a thing," Jim said pleasantly. "Have a seat. What would you like to drink?" He was tossing a plastic spatula from hand to hand.

"Beer, if there is any."

Jim zipped to the refrigerator and handed me an opened Corona before I had hardly gotten the request out.

Mother giggled like a schoolgirl. "James is rather excited about his day. And his marinating meat."

The two looked at each other and laughed like loons. I thought I had entered the twilight zone.

"Blue Eyes has invited himself for supper," I said quietly.

"That's fine," Jim answered, still moving around the kitchen in a quick-time version of a chef. "I'm going to try grilling on this Viking indoor gas grill. This is a professional chef's kitchen – nothing amateur about it." He was far too excited about the range top.

"Jim, perhaps I could get you something to drink."

"No," he chirped, pulling an open beer from behind a cookbook. "I'm taken care of." He continued dancing around the kitchen, eventually setting a platter of grape tomatoes before us. "Be careful – these have been soaking in Tequila."

I looked from him to my mother; they were insane. He set out a plate containing margarita salt and toothpicks and demonstrated the stab-and-dip eating technique. We both emulated him, and although I didn't want to admit it, the tomatoes were delicious as well as highly alcoholic. He swerved back to the table, squeezed fresh lime juice over the platter, speared a couple more for his own mouth, then veered back to his chopping board and fresh vegetables. I stared at Mother, but she was chewing on one of the tomatoes with a pleased smile on her face.

The sound of the front door being firmly closed, followed by footsteps punctuated by the thumping of a cane, signaled Blue Eyes' arrival. He followed the sounds of Jim's cleaver to find us.

"Hello," he said, nodding to everyone. He stabbed a tomato and threw it into his mouth before we could say anything. "Whoa!" he exclaimed. "Who put tomatoes in the Tequila? Good way to ruin good alcohol."

Jim, still hyper, handed him an opened beer and motioned for him to sit down. He slid into the chair beside me, taking a good swig of his beer at the same time. "Aren't we cozy?" he asked.

"Jim has had a very good day. How about you, Gregory?" Mother asked.

"Sent home a patient," he answered while poking a toothpick into one of the miniature tomatoes. "What did you do to entertain yourself today, Imogene?"

"I read an interesting article on possible candidates for the presidency. But I don't suppose that would make suitable conversation."

"No politics during food prep," Jim exclaimed. "I can't argue and cook at the same time."

Blue Eyes leaned over to whisper, rather loudly, into my ear. "Is Wilson intoxicated?"

I laughed. "Not unless he got here that way."

Blue Eyes looked at Jim. "So, Wilson, what gives? You stop off at the pub on your way home?"

Jim shook his beer at B.E. "Not I. Nope."

Mother giggled. I shrugged at B.E. "Perhaps we should search the place for pods?"

Jim poured oil into a cast iron wok. He was juggling several dishes, steaming rice, grilling the steaks, and now sautéing a mixture of vegetables, while a sauce simmered on a back burner. From time to time, he would dip a spoon into the sauce and taste it.

"I never realized you enjoyed cooking as performance art," I remarked.

He handed me a fresh beer as he opened one for himself, never loosing the rhythm of his cooking. B.E. was popping tomatoes in his mouth with an alcoholic fervor. Mother, who sipped daintily on her drink, maintained a gentle smile that made her look young and vivacious.

"I wanted to get a range top like this when my third wife and I bought our house, but she couldn't see the purpose. I hope everyone likes their beef rare."

Blue Eyes nodded, his mouth full, and waggled his empty beer; Jim replaced it with a full one while turning the steaks and stirring the rice, all in one smooth movement. He noticed Mother's glass and took it to the freezer, where he dropped in several ice cubes for her. She thanked him prettily when he returned it.

"Is Darth, there, dating Wilson?" Blue Eyes whispered to me.

"I have no earthly idea," I answered.

Mother got up and set the table, darting around Jim's orchestrated cooking routine. She may have been inebriated, but she definitely still stood on firm ground. I ate another Tequila-laced tomato and watched. Jim brought dishes of food to the table, picking out a particular piece of steak and depositing it on Mother's plate. He then served her rice and the mixed vegetables and poured some of the simmering sauce beside her steak, tending to her with what passed as affection. I think my mouth dropped open about the time Jim sat down across from me.

"What?" he asked.

"You two are acting strange," I accused.

Blue Eyes wasted no time heaping food onto his plate. I elbowed him, but it didn't deter his feeding frenzy. He looked at my plate, stole a snow pea I had just scooped out of the serving bowl, and shoved it into his own mouth. He grinned at me while chewing.

"How is your steak, Imogene?" Jim asked Mother.

She sliced a small piece from the larger steak and smiled at Jim as she examined it. "Cooked perfectly, James."

Jim took a mock bow, and Mother provided the mock applause. I felt my stomach churn at the sight. "Mother," I began, but the phone interrupted me.

I excused myself and grabbed it, checking the caller ID. It was Greg, so I turned it on speaker phone.

"Greg," I said as I sat back down, "you're on speaker. We're just eating supper."

"Who is 'we'?"

We all called out our names.

"I'm missing the party," he said tersely. "Cissy, pick up."

"Oh, Greg, don't be a bad sport. If you were here Jim would feed you, too," I teased him.

"Cissy, pick up. Now."

I knew that tone of voice: something was wrong. I glanced at Blue Eyes, who was chewing happily, and sprinted for the phone. "What?" I asked as I carried it into the living room.

"Am I off the speaker?" he asked.

"Yes. What is wrong?"

"I just talked to Dad. I know what's up with Mother."

"Okay," I said. "You sound awful. What did he say?"

"Mother's sick, Cissy. Very sick."

The silence was frightening. "Well, I have a kitchen full of doctors. What's wrong with her?"

"Inoperable cancer. Small cell lung cancer, stage IV, that has metastasized to the liver and brain."

"What?" I said as I sunk into a chair.

"Dad says the doctors offered no hope at all, although she refused any suggestions of chemo or radiation. Her vanity wouldn't allow her to consider any treatment with disfiguring side effects."

"What?" I repeated.

"Cissy, where are you? Is House with you?"

"No. In the kitchen. How long has she known?"

"Since before Christmas. Cissy, get House to the phone. Let me talk to him."

"She's told Jim, hasn't she? That's why he's been so solicitous of her."

"Cissy, get House to the phone. Please, honey."

"Greg, you've got to be mistaken. She seems fine."

"Cissy, please, honey, go get House."

"Jim's an excellent doctor. He'll know what to do."

Greg sighed. "Mother has her medical records with her. Cissy, I'm sure she's shown them to Wilson. Now, please, get House to the phone."

Before I could utter another word, the phone was lifted from my hand. "What's going on, Greg?" Blue Eyes asked.

I felt his hand on my shoulder as he listened to Greg. I made a weak attempt to stand, but his hand pressed me back into the chair. My brain was rejecting everything Greg had told me. My mother was too mean to die. And certainly too egotistical to do it in secret. No, she was more the type to stage a grand scene, to play on everyone's sympathies. Pity was her manna. Her inner Camille would be raging to get out. I started shaking my head determinedly. Blue Eyes knelt beside me, catching my chin in his free hand. His clear gaze, the eyes darkened to the color of the denim he wore, bore into me.

"Greg, if your mother wants this to be kept a secret . . ." Blue Eyes said, but he trailed off as Greg continued talking. Finally, Blue Eyes said, "Thanks, Greg. I'll take care of Audra. And I'll call you tomorrow."

He laid the phone down and grabbed both my hands. "She didn't want you to know, Tiger. She didn't want anyone to know."

"But . . ."

"No buts, Tiger. We can talk to Wilson tomorrow, at the hospital, but for now, you have to pretend everything's fine. Do you understand?"

I shook my head. "No. She can't be sick. She doesn't look sick."

"Tiger, she's been battling this for over a month. She knows her parameters. She wanted to be here, anonymously sick. You have to honor that."

"Why?" I raised my voice. "Why should I honor some selfish wish of hers? How dare she drag her sorry ass here to die!"

Blue Eyes pulled me to my feet and enveloped me in his long arms, crushing my face against his chest. "Tomorrow, after talking to Wilson, if you want to confront her with her behavior, any of her behavior, I will support you. But for tonight, give yourself time to process this."

"What is wrong with you? You're used to people dying. He!!, they drop like flies around you. This is just another part of the 'circle of life' for you. But for me, for me, it's my mother. The b!tch who rejected me, who rejected Greg, who still, everyday, rejects Zelda. You pity her?"

He clasped me more firmly to his chest. "I want you to give yourself some time to decide how you want to handle it. You're not, tonight, at the place to make that decision. B!tching her out will be the same tomorrow as today."

"No it won't!" I had begun to yell. "Tomorrow I will have lost my anger. I want to hold on to it, nurture it, grow it. I want my anger to be my overriding emotion."

"Okay. That's fine. But bring your anger tomorrow. Not tonight. Please."

Jim entered the room slowly, respectfully. "Audra, your mother's gone on to bed."

"She heard me."

"No," he said with deliberation, "but she has a fair idea of the purpose of Greg's call. She's tired, Audra. It would be best if you let her get some sleep tonight. The two of you can negotiate tomorrow."

"How long have you known?" I demanded.

"I'll talk to you tomorrow, Audra, but Imogene is now my patient, and I am bound by our doctor/patient relationship."

"You're not going to tell me sh!t," I groused.

Blue Eyes looked at Jim over my head. He mouthed, "Have any ativan we can give her?"

Jim nodded and went to his bedroom.

"I do not want to be drugged."

"I know that, Little Mama, but you are spiraling out of control. We need to calm you down so you can give yourself time to take all of this in."

I started struggling against his embrace, thrashing and jerking and slinging my arms about. I managed to bang my open hand into his rather large nose, causing him to release me momentarily as he grabbed his injury. "Damm," he muttered.

I turned away from him, heading for the upstairs and Mother's bedroom, but Jim intercepted me. "House, hold her," he snapped brusquely.

Blue Eyes looped his arm around my waist and held his mouth next to my ear. "This shot works best in the butt muscle, which I will promise to massage until you fall asleep. However, if you keep fighting me, I'll give it anywhere, and it will hurt, and it won't take effect as quickly."

"You're going to do whatever you want," I complained.

He took the syringe from Jim, who judiciously left because Blue Eyes was then focused on pulling my jeans down to expose the desired muscle. I struggled half-heartedly. The injection was painful, and I whimpered. Blue Eyes pulled me up, leaning me against him with his arm still firmly encircling my waist.

"Come on, Little Mama. Let's get in your bedroom before you pass out."

I didn't even remember pulling my jeans back up.