Page 4 of Embracing the Change

I made a face because contents expelled from a stomach were something I’d long since vowed I’d never deal with, and as such, with an iron will, I hadn’t myself heaved in five years, and I’d certainly never been anywhere near someone else who’d done it. For my part, I’d not even done this when I had that horrible flu last winter, and Nanny dealt with my daughter Allegra’s spit up.

“I’d say try to get some water in her, but I’m afraid it will come right back up,” Mother carried on as I continued to grimace. “However, endeavor to do so. She needs hydration. And…Nora.”

She said my name with such flinty inflection, as I’d been trained since cognition was even a glimmer of my existence, I focused entirely on her.

“No one comes into this room, except me and Oakley,” she decreed.

With that, she swept out, I knew, to find Jamie Oakley.

Also, with that, I understood what was happening.

Mother liked Jamie Oakley.

Very much.

Further, Mother hated Jamie’s father, AJ.

Even more.

I was well aware of the infamous incident that happened between my mother, the erudite, urbane Eleanor Ellington of the Manhattan Ellingtons, her pedigree so pure, there wasn’t a big enough blue ribbon to stamp on it, and the rough and rowdy AJ Oakley of relatively new, and brash, and vulgar Texas oil money. Thrown into that inimical mix had been my father.

This incident was so well-known, even after all these years, everyone was aware of it. Including me, and it happened when I was a child.

Mother was…Mother.

She was also married at the time, and in their way, my parents were very much in love. Neither would ever stray, because, in Mother’s words, “To do such, well…”—while delivering this pearl to me, at this juncture, she’d shivered with revulsion—“it’s entirely crass, darling.”

Upon reaching adulthood, I’d discovered not everyone, especially the men of our circle, but also quite a few of the women, held this same sentiment.

But as far as I knew, Mother and Dad did.

The story began when, at a party, AJ had slapped Mother’s ass, which was inexcusable enough. However, he’d also done it with Dad right there.

He’d then declared loudly, for all to hear, “You get done with her, my man, I’ll take that kind of sloppy seconds.”

My father, Quincy Harrison Ellington, was a mild-mannered man. In the short years I’d been privileged to have him in them, I’d never so much as heard him raise his voice.

However, after his wife was assaulted in that manner, and then those words were uttered, he’d reportedly punched AJ Oakley with such force, the man was flat on his back on the floor.

My father stepped over his prone body and guided my mother away.

As you could see, quite the incident to make the rounds to the point it became lore.

It was my understanding AJ never set foot in New York City again, which, after such a mortifying debut, was understandable.

It was known widely that Jamie did not get along with his father. It was even hinted they hated each other.

Therefore, obviously, Mother thought Jamie had a good head on his shoulders, and he was one of the very few who, without jumping through hoops to get it, had her respect.

I knew she was off to find him, and doing it clandestinely, so no one would be the wiser about what was happening in that bathroom.

And I was stuck there with Jamie’s gorgeous, and outrageously inebriated wife.

I knew another thing.

There was no way to get Belinda out of that bathroom without taking her through a hall crowded with people who would see her in this state, and that would travel like wildfire through the gossip channels of café society.

She’d be ruined.

---