Friday, May 9th, 1958
8:10 p.m.
By the time Rindy was ten, she was able to understand what a belated birthday present was, and that one didn't need to receive a birthday present on one's birthday in order for it to count. Not that anyone had forgotten her birthday. On the contrary, she had a party with her friends from school, about twelve boys and girls, who descended on the apartment for cake, ice cream, and games one Saturday afternoon in late April. But it was the present from Carol and Therese that came after the fact that Rindy loved so much.
Ever since she moved to Manhattan, Carol and Therese made a point of taking Rindy to the theater. Always musical though. Whereas it used to be seats for two at the Winter Garden or the Lyceum, it was now seats for three in the orchestra with Rindy sitting on the aisle so she could peer around someone's shoulders if she couldn't see in front of her. Every couple of months, they would go see a musical together. Occasionally, Carol and Therese would go out together alone and see a play that was most likely not suitable for Rindy even though she would plead and plead for them to take her to something more "grown-up."
One thing Rindy had learned while living with her father and grandparents was that she loved music. Rindy had been studying the piano since she was six. Her grandparents insisted on lessons for her, twice a week after school, and always before she could go outside and play.
Not that going outside to play mattered when she didn't have any friends in that neighborhood since all the residents were over the age of sixty, and it wasn't like she had a brother or sister to play with either. Most of the time, it was just Rindy by herself. Sometimes her father would play with her, often board games or reading books together, but nothing like running around outside or skipping rope with other children her own age.
Occasionally, Rindy would regret the fact that she didn't have a sibling, not that she could have done a thing about it. Then, as she grew older, she began to relish the fact there wasn't a brother or sister because it meant she got her mother and Therese all to herself.
Carol had been concerned Rindy wouldn't understand West Side Story, thinking it was too complicated for a child. Therese disagreed and as they both tucked Rindy into bed a few days before the performance, explained to her that it was like Romeo and Juliet, but in modern-day New York and the rivals were from different backgrounds rather than different families.
"Ohhhh… " Then it was much clearer to Rindy. "So they're not supposed to love each other because they have different backgrounds?"
"There's no rule saying they can't love each other, but other people tell them they're not supposed to." Therese sincerely answered.
"They sound like silly people. Why would they do that?"
"Adults sometimes impose silly rules upon themselves that make no sense. They mean well, but they're just scared and trying to protect what little they do have to feel secure." Carol replied. Rindy looked over to Therese for reassurance, nodding her head in agreement with Carol.
Therese looked at Rindy and pointed toward the large world map hanging by her bed. "Now, you want to show me where Puerto Rico is on the map?"
Rindy smiled and stood up on her bed, pointing to the little island in the Caribbean.
hr
Saturday, May 10th, 1958
10: 45 p.m.
With Mother's Day the following day, they had hoped to be in Greenwich, at the house for the weekend since they hadn't been in a long time. With the theater tickets though, plans changed and they decided to stay in the city for the weekend. The stars probably were out that night, but in the city it was impossible to tell. In Greenwich, Rindy could see the stars, albeit faintly, but they were still there and she could see them on the non-cloudy evenings. The lights in Times Square though were almost too bright and it was all that she could see as far as she looked. The moment she, Carol and Therese turned down a side street was Rindy finally able to regain her focus as she looked down the darkened road. As the three of them walked home, with Carol on one side and Therese on the other side,
"Did you like the show, Rindy?"
Rindy stopped looking up at the sky, trying to spot a star here or there, and turned her attention to her mother. "Yes. Thank you, Mommy. Thank you," Rindy turned her head and looked at Therese who was cheerfully walking beside her, "Therese."
Therese smiled back and held out her hand for Rindy to take, but she wouldn't. It took Therese a moment understand what was going on; Rindy never hesitated to take her hand while they walked down the street together. Either hers or Carol's. Unfortunately, Therese couldn't easily hide the moment of hurt once she realized what was happening. Rindy was growing up, she was ten now, and probably felt as though she didn't need to have her hand held anymore as they walked down the street. Doing her best to gather a faint smile and pass what had happened off like it was no big deal after all, Therese made a gesture with her hand and kept walking, "Yeah, probably getting too old now to have your hand held while walking down the street with your mother and me."
Rindy stopped walking as Carol and Therese kept going. It was a few steps before they realized that Rindy had hung back and ceased moving with them. "No, it's not that." Therese looked back over her shoulder when Rindy wasn't next to her anymore. "You - "
"I what, Rindy?"
"You probably want to hold hands with Mommy, like you did during the show because you two are in love with each other." Carol stopped, and looked back at Rindy who shoved her hands into her coat pockets and shifted her weight from one foot to the other. "Like Tony and Maria in love."
"I do want to hold her hand. I really, really do," Therese said, conscious to keep her voice low despite the side of the street they were walking on being completely vacant, "but we can't when we go out."
"Why?"
Therese paused, she should have instantly realized as soon as she started to explain, Rindy would have more and more questions. She expected it to happen someday, but not in the middle of 52nd Street. "Because people don't understand that love comes in many forms." Carol calmly answered. "Forms different than those many are accustomed to. When they don't understand, they lash out and get angry."
Rindy looked sad. Her mother was a sweet, loving person; and Therese was kind and silly, always there for her just like her mother. She knew that they shared a bedroom and that they liked to curl up together on the couch to watch television or read. "Angel" was what she heard her mother call Therese sometimes, and whenever she did, Therese's smile could have lit the Upper East Side.
They weren't bad people at all. Therese took photos with her, showed her how to use a camera, even bought her her own camera. Her mother made chocolate chip cookies with extra chocolate chips in them whenever she made a batch. Therese played trains with her all the time; her mother liked to sit and read with her, anything from Little Women to The Wind in the Willows. They were just normal parents, like everyone else.
Then she realized: Carol and Therese were her parents. They were two people, in love with one another, living together, sharing the same bed, going on vacations together, and raising a child.
Raising me, thought Rindy.
Rindy suddenly remembered back to when she was really little, how she, Therese, and Carol would go out for walks to the museum or to the park, and how they would walk on either side of Rindy, holding her hand to keep her snuggly in the middle.
With her right hand, Rindy grabbed Therese and then with her left reached for her mother. "Now you can hold hands through me." Rindy looked at Carol with a grin and swung her arm just a little bit. "Okay, Mommy?"
"Perfect, sweet pea."
Then Rindy angled her head right to look at Therese, "Okay with you also, Mom?"