I had almost given up on Connie making it home in time, and I sure wasn’t going to wait on her when I had a house of hungry kids. But as I was coming down the stairs from checking on Grandma (who fell asleep almost instantly once I had given her the “pills,” and turned the volume down on the TV –which was muted to begin with), I heard a car pull into the driveway, followed by hurried heeled footsteps. Connie burst into the kitchen only a moment after I did.
“Oh, good. I didn’t think I was going to make it,” she gasped, seeing us still putting the last few dishes on the table and getting drinks. “I’m so sorry I’m late. Traffic can be terrible coming back from Corpus, you know. How’s Mom doing?”
“Fine. She mostly just slept all day.”
“Oh, and look, you found her old record player! I can’t believe it still works,” she mused, pulling her heels off and strolling casually over to look at it now that she didn’t have to worry about missing dinner anymore. She didn’t ask if we needed any help putting the final touches together for dinner.
“Uncle Tim made it work,” Aiden informed her, following her over to it to warn, “But don’t touch it cuz it might break.”
“Oh, okay,” she nodded, then turned to see if Timothy was still here. Spotting him pulling a couple bowls out of the cabinet for me that I couldn’t quite reach, she greeted, “Well hello, Timothy. Are you staying for dinner?”
“Of course,” Lily assured her. “Now you sit here, and Mommy sit here, and Aidy sit here...”
“The living room looks wonderful,” Connie commented, glancing through the doorway. “I’ll bet it was a lot of work, huh?”
I nodded, then for some reason, felt it necessary to retort sarcastically, “Yeah, you picked a nice day to get caught in traffic.” I don’t know why I said it, and I regretted it as soon as it popped out, if only for the surprised, confused look Timothy shot me. I shook my head and sighed, “Here, Lily and Aiden, come sit at the table, and let’s eat.”
Thank goodness kids are the perfect cure for social discomfort, and their animated chatter as the five of us took our seats around the table did a relatively good job of erasing my biting remark. I wound up between Aiden and Lily, and it made me smile to see they weren’t breaking away from our usual seat order, and that made me feel a little bit better about sharing a table with Connie and Timothy, the former of which I was annoyed with without any real understanding why, and the latter of which I suddenly found myself angry with simply for the look he had given me. As if he had been surprised and horrified by some terrible stain on my personality he hadn’t noticed before. I got defensive, I guess is what I’m trying to say. I buried myself into making sure Lily and Aiden had everything they needed and chiding them to talk less and eat more, and even extended a somewhat friendly hand by asking Connie how her day at work had gone. She lit up at the question and launched into a detailed account of what sort of clientele had come in, when the busiest parts of her day had been, what was going on in the lives of her co-workers. She obviously just wanted someone to talk to so badly that it was sort of pitiful.
Timothy remained strangely quiet, and it was obvious he suddenly felt uncomfortable at the table, though I couldn’t for the life of me figure out why. It wasn’t like he was intruding on any tight family moment or anything like that, so the only explanation I could come up with was that he had caught a glimpse of some side of me he hadn’t expected and didn’t like and now was trying to find the quickest way to get away from. The idea pretty much ruined what had otherwise been coming along as a surprisingly good day.
Of course, Timothy feeling awkward at the table made me feel awkward at the table, maybe even almost guilt-ridden, so when Connie asked if we had any salt, I quickly jumped up and went to dig through the cabinets to see if we had any tucked away. The normal salt and pepper shakers shaped like little smiling ducks weren’t out on the table as they used to always be. Connie was facing Lily and Aiden, telling them some sort of trivia about the song that had just started on the record player, and perhaps that’s why she didn’t stop me before I opened the cabinet above the fridge where, instead of the salt and pepper, I found a dozen bottles of various alcohols.
At first I just stared at the bottles, my mouth a thin straight line as I worked so hard to quell the sudden simultaneous urges to yell and cry welling up inside me. I decided to do neither, though, because I had already slipped up and let my bitterness show once today. So instead of saying anything, I pulled the bottles out of the cabinet, setting them roughly down on the counter beside the sink.
This was un-noteworthy, but when I pulled the top off one and began pouring it down the sink, Lily called over, “Mommy, what are you doing?”
“Somebody broke the no alcohol rule,” I answered simply, not even turning around, just watching the gin swirl around in the sink before racing down the drain.
As if alcohol were some magical word, Connie leapt up and insisted, “I swear to God, it’s not mine, Jemma. I don’t know where it came from–“
”Oh, no, I believe you,” I assured her, setting the empty bottle down on the counter a little too roughly. Lily and Aiden grew gut-wrenchingly silent, never having seen me this frigidly angry before. My back was to them, but I knew they could feel the tight-line of my mouth and I continued, “It’s Grandma’s. She pulled herself out of her deathbed to go buy thirteen bottles of alcohol!” I yanked the top off a half-gone bottle of straight liquor and flipping it upside down over the sink.
Connie inhaled sharply, then came closer, through she dared come no closer than the island, and swore, “I promise, Jemma, it–“
”You know, it’s a funny thing, but for some reason your promises don’t mean much to me,” I spit back.
“No, they aren’t–“
”Then whose are they? You’re the only one that’s been here besides Grandma–“
”Maybe they’re hers–“
”You’re pinning this on your dying mother? What kind of sicko are you?!”
“But I didn’t–“
”Why should I believe you now?”
“JEMMA!” she yelled, but I just watched her face as I popped the top on the schnapps and let the liquid rush down into the sink.
Lily and Aiden both suddenly began wailing, terrified of my anger, of the chaos, of the way Connie suddenly yelled. For the first time, their tears frustrated me enough that I yelled, “Hush, you two! Shut up and eat your dinner!” Instantly both clamped their mouths shut and held their sobs in as much as they could, whimpering and sniffling as they tried to choke food down before giving up and just putting their heads down on the tables to cry into their arms.
Connie came closer and insisted, “Jemma, this is crazy. Just toss it all in the trash; you don’t have to pour–“
”No, because it’s not like you’d go to such lengths to get it, right? It’s not like you would dig through the trash for it! Not you, the person who stretched out on the ground and squeezed the drops of gin out of a towel into your mouth when Dad threw the bottle against the wall,” I hissed, dumping another bottle.
I guess that struck a nerve in her, and for the first time since I had arrived, she decided to fight back.
Slamming her fist down on the counter, she yelled, “For Christ’s sake, Jemma, I’ve been dry longer than you have!”
I froze and squeezed my eyes shut, the pain of that low blow striking me so hard I couldn’t breathe for what felt like an eternity. Not until my head began swimming.
When I finally opened my eyes, the angry, explosive energy had left me, and I replied simply, “Don’t pretend like you know me. I am not you.” Her face took on a guilty, horrified expression, like she couldn’t believe what she had just said. She opened her mouth to say something further, perhaps to apologize, but I turned back to the sink and continued to pour. I didn’t want anything else from her: not an apology or an explanation or any more empty promises. She waited only an awkward moment before turning and scurrying out of the kitchen.
I heard chairs moving at the table, and Timothy muttered something to Lily and Aiden that I wasn’t listening closely enough or caring enough to make out, and when I figured I was alone in the kitchen, I let my head fall into my hands. I squeezed my eyes shut as tightly as I could and held my breath, wishing this would all rewind and we could sit down to a nice family dinner without anyone, such as myself, ruining it.
I about jumped out of my skin when someone lifted one of the bottles off the counter. I opened my eyes and turned my head to watch as Timothy popped the top off and began dumping its contents down the sink. He knew I was watching him, but he didn’t say anything, just continued to pour while I gasped for breath to keep myself from breaking down.
“Connie’s your mom,” he commented after a moment or two, and I hadn’t considered the fact that he hadn’t already known that. I thought for sure she or Mama Loula or Grandma would have mentioned it, but apparently they hadn’t. I looked just like her, but he hadn’t noticed.
I nodded, then shook my head and hiccuped, “Yes.”
“And you two just–“
”I couldn’t care less about her. What have I just done to my children? I–“
”Nothing that you can’t fix,” he interrupted, finally turning his head to look me straight in the face. “They’re up in their room. Go. I’ll get rid of this.” I only hesitated a moment before nodding and creeping out of the kitchen and up the stairs to the tune of alcohol spilling against the tin of the sink. I wondered if Timothy was tempted at all... but no. He had been a drinker; not an alcoholic. There was a vast difference.
The door to Grandma’s room was closed, and I could hear Connie’s shrill voice inside, tattling everything about dinner to Grandma. I didn’t care, though. I turned and ventured into my room where Lily and Aiden were curled up next to each other on the bed, their blankets, dolls, and stuffed animals clutched tightly. They glanced up at me when I walked in, and their round eyes showed so much fear that I gave up on trying to hide my tears.
“Oh, my babies,” I sighed, collapsing onto the edge of the bed, letting my shoulders slouch and the tears roll down my cheeks. It was only a second before both of them crawled up and shoved themselves onto my lap, winding themselves into my arms and twisting their arms around me into what we had begun calling our Pretty People Pretzel when they were toddlers. They sobbed into my chest and I held them tightly, rocking us all side to side and pressing my cheek to the tops of their heads as I felt my chest alternately tighten and loosen in my own internal sobbing. Even after their tears had been spent, I continued to rock them, relishing the fact that Timothy was right; I hadn’t done anything that I couldn’t fix.
When the three of us had settled down enough and their breathing had returned to normal, I decided I needed to offer some sort of explanation. They were far too young for me to get into all the details of Connie’s and my relationship, or lack thereof, so instead I sighed, “Babies, I am so sorry. I... there’s no excuse for what just happened, but...”
“You had a temper tantrum,” Lily suggested, rubbing her eyes and sitting up straight in my lap in order to see my face. Aiden, however, was content to stay curled up against my chest.
I nodded, then explained, “Sometimes, even mommies have temper tantrums.”
“But why are you mean to Connie?” Aiden whispered. I sighed and shook my head. How do you explain alcoholism and neglect to a four-year-old? How do you explain what it feels like to be hated by your own mother to a child who’s only ever known love?
“It’s complicated, sweetie, and not something I want you to have to worry about, okay? But I’ll be nicer to Connie, just for you, all right?” He nodded and sniffled as I kissed the top of his head. “Well, when one of you has a tantrum, I make you apologize and wait for me to say I forgive you. I’m apologizing now, so...”
“I forgive you, Mommy,” Lily assured me, nodding and smiling despite her flushed and tear-stained face.
“Me too,” Aiden agreed. I kissed both of them on their faces over and over and over until they began to squeal with giggles, and we wrestled around on the bed for a second until I felt like any problems between the three of us had been solved as best they could for the time being. The nice thing about children is that they don’t hold grudges, not for little one-time incidence like what had just happened, not when you’ve filled the rest of their life with love and kisses and hugs. At least I hoped not.
I stretched out on my side and pushed Lily’s hair behind her ear and made a silly face at Aiden, then suggested, “I tell you what. I’m going to go down and clean the kitchen. Why don’t you two pick out a movie you want to watch on my laptop, and when I’m done cleaning up, I’ll give you two a bath, and then we’ll watch a movie until bedtime, okay?” The idea appealed to both of them and we walked downstairs together, hand in hand, until they let go to make a beeline for the stack of movies we had brought from home. They had earlier been set up on a low shelf in the living room and already the living room was looking more like home.
I had expected Timothy to high-tail it out of there the first chance he got, but when I stepped into the kitchen, I found the dishes already in the dish washer, the food stashed away, the alcohol bottles nowhere to be found, and a candle burning.
“To get rid of the smell,” he explained when I stepped toward the candle.
I studied his face for a minute, then sighed, “You don’t have to stick around. It might be better for you to go while you can.”
He frowned at the pathetic laugh I attempted with the last sentence, then shook his head, “I think I’d better stick around.” At my confused expression, he put his hand on my arm and started to explain, “We can talk later–“ until Lily and Aiden came bounding in, holding some Disney movie.
“Did you find one?” I asked, bending over to see what they had selected. “All right, well put it on the table over there and we’ll set my laptop up after you two get a bath.”
“Are you going to watch the movie on your laptop?” Timothy asked and when I nodded, he made a face and shook his head, “No, you can’t watch a movie on a laptop. That’s too small and the sound sucks. I’ll run to Grandma Loula’s house and steal a TV from her.”
Lily and Aiden both gasped and Aiden asked, “You’re gonna steal it?”
“Well, no, I’ll ask her if I can bring it over here, but she won’t mind. It’s only her at her house but she’s got three TV’s. She doesn’t need that many,” he shrugged. Lily clapped and Aiden looked up at me with a goofy grin. I just smiled back at him and shrugged like I was as excited as he was, and as I herded the two upstairs, I mouthed, ‘Thank you’ over their heads to Timothy as he headed out the front door. He nodded but didn’t smile, and I suddenly dreaded talking to him about anything.
Bath time was always chaotic amounts of fun when Lily and Aiden took a bath together as they preferred, and this time was no exception. After playing a game with a handful of McDonald’s Happy Meal toys as I tried to scrub all the dirt and grime of the day off their backs, soapy mohawks followed, and bubbly beards, and then whining when it came time to get them out, until I reminded them of the movie waiting downstairs. Then they argued over who could get out first, and Aiden snickered impishly when I wrapped a towel around him first and pulled him out of the tub, but after I had pulled Lily out as well, I rubbed her back and helped her get into her nightgown first, so they both came out winning whatever little sibling rivalry they had going. Once into their nightclothes, it was a race down the stairs, blankets, dolls, and stuffed animals in tow, to see if Timothy had returned with the TV yet. We found him standing in the kitchen, talking to Connie, though she turned and walked out the backdoor at the sight of me. I won’t say I was disappointed.
“Did you bring the TV?” Aiden asked excitedly, running right up to Timothy.
He nodded, “Yep. I set it up in the living room. Go look.” So both Aiden and Lily raced to the living room and jumped onto the couch to clap and cheer for the relatively large, awfully new television plugged in across the coffee table, complete with VCR and DVD player.
“Mommy, come sit with us!” Lily begged, scooting away from Aiden to make room for me in between them.
“I will, just let me get the movie in,” I ordered, but Timothy held his hand out for the DVD and put it in for me, so I hurried over and jumped onto the couch between my children, eliciting shrieks of laughter from both of them. I pulled blankets up over all three of us and wrapped my arm around Lily’s shoulder while Aiden stretched out and laid his head in my lap. I wondered if Timothy would leave, but he settled down in the easy chair and watched the movie with us. He kept so quiet that I wondered if he hadn’t fallen asleep with his head turned towards the movie. I knew I was headed that way, and I almost wished he would because I feared talking to him, feared what he would bring up, what he would make me remember. But I decided to just wait and see and let the shrapnel fall where it may.
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