Page 70 of The Sign for Home

“I prefer plain cake doughnuts myself,” I said.

Hanne briefly smiled at my joke, then fell into another bout of silent tears, leaving me feeling helpless. The counter staff started staring at me, as if I were some lover who had just jilted the pretty lady in the yellow dress.

“Hanne,” I finally said, feigning hurt annoyance. “If you’re not going to tell me what’s going on, then there’s no point in me being here. I came here because I need some support from you!”

I pushed my seat out for extra effect. The chair squealed against theFormica floor, causing the Dunkin’ ladies to sneer at me. Hanne wiped her eyes and laughed as she took a sip of coffee.

“Ugh. You are such the drama queen, Cyrilje.”

“Me? Drama queen? I’m not the one using doughnuts as existential metaphors.”

This caused Hanne to snort coffee out of her nose, which in turn made me laugh, and then next thing you know, we were holding hands over the café table and the staff were shaking their heads, smiling, assuming we had made up.

“Are you okay now?” I asked.

“Yes. I’m fine. But Cyrilje, I need to tell you something. While you were away at your conference, Arlo and I spent some time together.”

I tried to listen without judgment as she also admitted to giving Arlo the new haircut, and to telling him to wear his clothes differently. Part of me was relieved that my instincts were still intact, but the other part was furious and began to suspect the worst.

“Did you tell him anything about me?” I said as calmly as I could.

“No,” Hanne said. “I mean, not details. He obviously already knows you’re gay. He’s deaf and blind… not stupid.”

“Funny,” I said, not even smiling. “What else did you say?”

“I just said you hadn’t had a boyfriend in a long time and that was one of the reasons you were so uptight.”

I sat there stone-faced, hating the fact that I had no control over what might have happened.

“Don’t worry, we didn’t talk anything more about you. Such an egomaniac you are.”

“So what else happened?” I asked matter-of-factly, hoping to draw out the truth.

Hanne closed her eyes, more tears flowed, and the guilty expression on her face seemed to be the confession I feared the most. I felt my chest tighten. I pictured Hanne seducing Arlo, sending that poor confused kidover the edge, betraying his trust, betrayingmytrust. My fists pounded hard on the table; hot coffee leaped up and splattered my hand.

“What the fuck, Hanne?!” I snapped. “You’re pathological, you know that?”

Again the counter staff was staring at us, smiles gone. I could feel the burn of the coffee on my hands. Hanne grabbed some napkins to help. I shoved her hands away.

“He’s disabled, for chrissakes,” I hissed. “You are unbelievable. He’s sixteen years younger than you. You are such a…”

“Whore?”she asked coldly. “Is that what you want to call me, Cyrilje?”

Hanne’s wet eyes glared at me. I shook my head in disgust. I was waiting for her to either break down in tears again or at least offer the apology she owed me. Instead she just rolled her eyes like she was both angered and bored with the conversation.

“Oh, please,” she groaned. “So I’m a whore? Fuck you, you sexist little hypocrite. And, by the way, Arlo is not some fragile broken little boy. He’s a man. He has passion and hunger. I hate to surprise you like this, Cyrilje, but Arlo likes sex! Bwah! You are as bad as those Jehovah’s Witnesses. You’re not his mommy.”

I felt choked by rage.

“You… you…” I sputtered, searching but failing to find a cutting retort. “That’s— You have no right! You know I could get fired!”

Hanne snorted a bitter laugh.

“Ach,mijnGod! Wah, wah, wah,” she mocked. “Maak daar toch niet zo’n scene van!”

I threw a napkin at her. “And stop with the Flemish bullshit! You’ve lived in Poughkeepsie for almost a quarter of a century!”

Hanne leaned in like she wanted to tell me a secret. Her voice purred in exaggerated sensuousness.

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