“If you think...” I start and he cuts me off with a snort.
“Relax. I’m just keeping this moving. My father may have endorsed a quickie while he was outside, but my mother will not.”
I pull out a gray sweater and plain black leggings, the festive spirit having left once his mother started to take over my Christmas morning. There is a brief sad look in Charlie’s eyes as he watches me get dressed and I’m sorry all over again for the trouble I’ve brought him. I hope that this guilt will relent soon. The pounding in my head starts, and I rub at my temples, willing the headache away. I shouldn’t be surprised, but I am by the sight of Charlie’s phone in his hand, no doubt shooting off an email or two for work, never taking a day of rest. When he opens the door, his mother is standing right outside and I want to die.
“I was just listening to see if you were coming out soon. I was going to make you some breakfast. How many eggs do you want?” She is outright ignoring me at this point.
“Elia already made us breakfast. I was just texting dad to let him know that you were going to be here when he came for lunch.”
His mother’s journey to the kitchen stops abruptly and she turns to him, her whole body rigid.
“Your father is coming,” his mother states. Her wrinkle-free face seems almost impassive, but there is a flash of annoyance in her eyes. Her eyes flit to me before going back to her son. Charlie has the same golden hair she does, but all his other looks come from his father. I can’t imagine how it must have been raising two boys that are the mirror image of a man she hates.
“Yep, it’s a divorce year.” Charlie shoves his hands in his jeans pockets. He gives me a wink and if he wasn’t thirty-two I would be suspicious that he was trying to Parent Trap his own mother and father, but I get the feeling he just wants them to fight each other instead of picking on him.
“Good, the more the merrier, I say. Ainsley said she would be here at noon, too.”
Now Charlie is the one to still.
“No,” Charlie’s voice is hard and angry.
His mother spins around to look at him. “No?” She is incredulous.
Vince and Brad are watching the exchange from the island. I noticepizzelleon the plates in front of them.
“No,” he confirms forcefully. I reach up and start to play with my necklace, watching this moment unfold. I want to disappear, become a piece of furniture, so I don’t have to witness this battle of wills.
“Who do you think I am, that you can say no?” She puffs out what I think is meant to be a laugh through her nose.
“I think you’re my mother. I love you, but Ainsley and I broke up. And I won’t let you disrespect Elia like that in my house.” He glances at me and amends, “Our house.”
“I see.” Her tone is cold as she walks away into the kitchen.
“So, text her and tell her not to come,” he pushes.
“Only if you text your father not to come,” she counters.
“Only if you don’t spend the night.”
She sighs dramatically. “You would really kick your poor mother out on the street on Christmas?” She pouts, actually sticks out her lower lip, while her hands are braced on the counter.
“Yes. Your husband was an early investor in Amazon. I’ve seen his portfolio; you can afford to buy an apartment for the night, let alone get a hotel.”
She opens her mouth to push further when Brad interjects.
“Ma, drop it,” Brad says, taking a bite of apizzelleand still scrolling through his phone. I think I might have found an ally, for once. He glances up at me and sneaks a wink my way, before indulging his mother in some eggs.
A huff is her only indication that she’s giving in. The rest of the day, she eyes me suspiciously, while glancing at Charlie to see whether or not he is willing to relent. I try to fade into the background as much as I can, while trying to encourage Charlie to talk to his family.
After the early morning theatrics, we manage to get along well enough. Brad fancies himself an amateur photographer, so he helps show me how to rate photos and adjust the balance and exposure. Charlie and Vince talk shop about investments they see going big and ones they don’t understand are exploding with popularity.
Barbara tries to insert herself while I start to cook lunch, but Charlie kicks her out with a look. Vince, however, manages to sneak in. He offers me a few tips to help keep the process going and sweeten up the meals. I share a secret smile with Charlie as he talks with his brother about school and the city.
We manage to survive without any nuclear fallout, though Barbara and I keep away from each other. When we have down time, I pop into the bedroom, wanting to give them space. I want to finish unpacking the stuff from my old apartment. Charlie’s mom strolls by the room and sees me pulling out the blankets to set them on the bed. I wanted to take them out the day I brought them over, but my conversation with Vivian weighed on me and it never felt like a good time. Today, now, feels right.
“These don’t really match the décor,” she says, her fingers running over a frayed edge of the quilt. I sigh as I look at the bright colors and mismatched fabric. As sections got more worn, they would be covered by new fabric, sometimes in hodgepodge ways and other times just by covering the old fabric entirely. My fingers graze the lace from my mother’s wedding dress, glad that I have that after the fire.
She had been saving it for me to wear, not all of it, but to have pieces of it for my something old. On her own wedding day, my father stepped on a part of her train, ripping a huge piece that was impossible to fix at the time, while they were taking photos. My father was more distraught than my mother, who reached down and tore off the ripped piece, handing it off to be saved with the rest of their things.