Tristan laughed out loud and I was happy to hear it. "You know, I never even thought about the connection, but I think you've hit on something. I can't believe I never thought about how this house influenced me."
"Well, I'm glad it did. Running around naked suits you. You should do it often."
"I intend to. You kind of like it, too, don't you?"
"More than I could have imagined."
"You should be naked as much as possible."
"But you seem to have so much fun dressing me up like your own personal doll."
"Only because society demands it."
"Society and the weather. It's a little chilly right now for naked." I looked at the house. "That's a huge chimney on the roof. You must have had a massive fireplace."
"It was one of my favorite parts. I used to think it was magic when my mother would stand between the firelight and the moonlight coming in the stained glass windows."
I was hoping that the visit to the house would be more than a lesson in architectural history. Tristan took my hand and suggested we take a walk around the neighborhood.
"I . . . " he started and stopped."I want to try to make you understand what happened after my mother died. But first, I guess I need to tell me how it was before."
I squeezed his hand. I didn't want to say a word for fear he might not continue.
"This neighborhood is mostly professionals. There are lots of doctors and lawyers. Mostly prosperous folks who want to live near enough to the city so that the commute isn't a killer. My mother was one of a few stay at home mothers left. She and a couple of other moms baked all the cupcakes, went on all the field trips, and always made sure that our classrooms had the best parties. I was so proud of her. Even as a little kid I knew how special it was to have her around. Plenty of my friends didn't see their mom until she got home from work at dinner time." He laughed and went on. "One time a friend had come over after school and Mom was cutting potatoes for French fries. She'd cut the potatoes and soak them in ice water and double fry them. God they were good. Anyway, this kid asked her what she was making. She said 'French fries'. The kid said 'That's not the way you make French fries!' Mom asked him how he thought French fries were made. He said 'You take the bag out of the freezer and then you bake them.' Can you imagine? The kid didn’t know fries were made from actual potatoes."
A breeze picked up and blew an eddy of leaves around our feet. The trees were so pretty. Not stunted city trees, but old country-looking ones. "I think fall is my favorite season. I guess I associate it with the excitement of going back to school. Summer was great for a while, but got hot and stale in the city after July."
"Halloween was a real event around here. Mom made all my costumes. She'd take weeks to put them together. Other kids wore cheap plastic masks and those crappy mass market things. I'll never forget the year she made me a Teenage Mutant Ninja turtle costume. She hand sewed a padded shell out of green felt."
"Which one were you?"
"Michelangelo. I liked the nunchucks."
I tried to imagine a carefree Tristan, nunchucks in hand, trick or treating down that perfect suburban street all decked out in a homemade turtle costume.
"Christmas was like a fairy tale. The house was decorated from top to bottom. There wasn't a room in the house that wasn't garlanded and every window had a candle in it. Of course, Santa always brought me everything I asked for and more. I guess I was a spoiled kid, but I don't think I acted like one."
"The Christmas of . . . when my mother had the accident, the house was already full of the spirit. There were tons of presents under the tree, mostly for me. She'd always have a 'theme' for the wrappings. One year it was gold and silver, the next green and red. And one year she did everything in brown paper with dried flowers and string. I disapproved of that motif. It wasn't shiny enough for me."
"I can't really remember exactly how my father told me or what happened that night or even the next few days. I don't know what happened to Christmas that year, either. It seemed I went from one life to another without a transition. I was probably in shock and I'm sure I was very depressed, but no one ever took the time to comfort or council me."
"My father, who was never a very warm and fuzzy man, withdrew even more. I wandered around the new apartment lost and lonely and . . ." He stopped and I could see he was fighting back tears. "Nobody cared."
I pulled him against me and felt him breathe deeply, fighting for composure. It was so sad, so wrenchingly sad to think of the empty, cruel world his life had become.
"I became angry. At the world, at my father, and, unfairly, most of all at my mother for leaving me. I was just a kid." He shrugged helplessly. "I became an overachiever in school, desperate to get my father's approval. It never materialized."
"As the years went by, I learned to rely only on myself. I avoided any kind of relationship that could possibly lead to being abandoned again."
We sat down on a bench and watched the sparse traffic for a few minutes. It was so painful to hear his story that I was tempted to tell him to stop. I couldn't because I needed to hear what he had to say. He had revealed part of the puzzle, but I wanted the whole picture. How had he conquered his fear? How had he reached a point where he was once again vulnerable enough to love?
"By the time I reached Wharton, I had become nearly as cold and unreachable as my father was. There had been a couple of girls. I was a healthy young man, after all." He grinned a little impishly then. "I'm still healthy, aren't I?"
"Yes, Tristan, as a woman, I can certainly attest to your . . . vigor. More than healthy."
"I developed a bit of a reputation as a player. But, in all fairness, most of the girls I met weren't interested in much more than sport fucking anyway. We all pretty much had our eye on the prize. By the time I was in the MBA program, the women I met were just as driven as the men. Domestic bliss was a very low priority."
"But something . . . someone changed that." I said softly.
"Elsa and I graduated together. We were friends. I had all the start-up capital I wanted. My father is not generous in his affection, but money is different. I had enough cash at my disposal to do pretty much whatever I wanted."
"I started the firm and hired several of the stars of the class to work with me. Elsa was one of them."
Tristan looked tired. He wasn't used to this kind of conversation and I could see that it was draining him. "Why don't we take a little break? I don't know about you, but I could use a bite to eat."