Chapter 78: Is This Seat Taken?

Jim followed me to the east terrace. “You want one?” He lit a smoke and offered me the pack.

      “Yes, I want one, but no, I won’t. But thanks.”

        “One quick drag?” he offered.           

I exhaled a rich plume of blue smoke. “That’ll have to last me another 12 years or so.”

            “Twelve years, no lapses?”

            “Unless a cigar once a year counts.”

            “Cubans?” Jim leaned against the cool rock wall.

            “Cohibas.”

            Jim laughed. “Nah. They don’t count.”

            I sat next to Jim as he smoked. “What is going on with MM? Did she let you in on this?”

            Jim looked away, dodging my question.

            “C’mon. It’s almost over anyway. You can tell me.”

            “Look,” Jim said. “If I asked you to trust me for just an hour more, could you do that?”

            I pondered for a moment. “Are there more? Surprises.”            

“What if I said there’s a few? One really good one. Could you hang in there? What do you shrinks call it? Delayed gratification?”

            I nodded.

            “Another hour, tops. As they say, ‘all will be revealed.’”

            “Will I be gratified?’ I laughed.

            “I guaran-fuckin-tee it.”

            We rejoined the table.

            MM resumed her presentation. “At your seat you’ll find a folder. Don’t open it yet. I have a few more things to say and then the folder will make sense.” Our table had been cleared and fresh glasses of chilled water were at each seat. I gratefully drank down my entire glass. Our server seamlessly refilled it.

            “I want to talk for a minute about my daughter, Tayloe. As you know, David, her father, and I, established the Tayloe Kinney LGBT Foundation after her death in 2005. Since then, we’ve been able to provide support and meaningful change in the lives of young people who struggle with finding their way. With fitting in. It’s been gratifying work that’s taken us to 26 countries. To date, with the help of generous donors, we’ve built a working trust valued at over $45 million.

            We listened. I watched MM’s face as she recounted her work and her major antidote to her grief.

            “This reunion sparked an idea. An idea to bring the foundation’s support back home, to a locale where many of us struggled with the same issues that, in the end, overwhelmed my daughter.

“After we lost Tayloe, I thought back on my time at the University. I thought back on the people I connected with and the people I drove away. I did some research. I found out that there were these amazing people. People who struggled with difference, fitting in, self-loathing, and wrestling with feeling less-than during their time here. These people managed to provide the very support, caring and basic kindness that might have helped my daughter find a different path. Those people, are you.           

“And so, as part of my do-over for a time I’m less than proud of, as a way to honor the legacy of my daughter, and as a way to continue the kindness you have shown me and each other, I announce the formation of the NICE Foundation: The Nurture, Inclusion, Caring and Empowerment Foundation. Our mission: To provide education and support at the university level for positive behavioral change. And to provide training for personal sensitivity and acceptance of those we disagree with. And to promote acceptance of those who look, act or love differently than we do.”           

MM nodded at the group. “You can open your packets now. It should have your name on the front. I’d like to extend to each of you a seat on the Board of NICE. I realize it’s a commitment you may need some time to process. All I’m asking is that you consider joining us at this exciting launch. As I said, I’ve done my homework. In addition to being decent, admirable human beings, collectively, you have the skills to bring this organization to life.”

MM watched as we opened our envelopes. “Each of you are living the lives Tayloe never got a chance to have. You’re out there. Kind. Caring. Loving each other. And loving yourselves.” MM wiped the tears away.

I ran my hand over the glossy folder with my name embossed in silver on the cover. I leafed through the first few pages, overwhelmed by MM’s determination and her clear and firm faith in us. As individuals and as a group. For as many times in two days, I had no words.

They came from behind me.

“Is this seat taken?"

“What are you doing here?” I burst into tears. John reached for his handkerchief and looked up at the group. “I married a crier.” And to me, “How are you, baby?”

            It took a while to take it all in.

            MM had placed her card in the folder. We would have access to her day and night. It was a beginning that none of us had seen coming the day before, milling on the lawn and sipping cocktails. It took each of us to a place that was rooted in common experiences from our past. Experiences that helped us survive living on the outskirts of “should” and led to firmer ground in the land of “can.”

            “Surprised to see me?” John sat..

            “That’s the understatement of the year.”