“Good, because you two simply weren’t right for each other. That’s all. I mean, his idea of a good time was painting his chest and acting like a fool at a football game and praying the camera found him so the whole world could see.”
A laugh spits itself out of my mouth. I was never so embarrassed as that Sunday afternoon. Sorry, not my style. Considering the awkward display occurred on our second date, I have zero excuse for not wising up before his hurtful jabs ever had a chance to be spoken.
Knox
After too solid a night’s sleep considering the gravity of the event that drew me home, Mom and I share conversation over coffee and toast. Sunshine, filtered by the high, stratus clouds of winter, brushes across the room. Dozer, a tank with legs, rumbles like a freight train near my feet.
“I can’t believe you don’t have the tree up yet, Mom.” The first of November usually kicks off her decorating season.
“What do you mean? It’s up.” A velvety robe of Christmas red covers her pajamas, and a coordinating red and green headband holds her bedhead from her face.
“Yeah, I noticed the living room tree got a makeover since last year—looks nice, by the way—but what about the foyer tree?” It’s always been her favorite and the capstone of the house’s holiday décor.
With her hands warming around her mug, she sighs. “You know, I’m not as young as I used to be.”
I give her the side eye. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
She smiles, sliding her hand to touch mine. “Don’t look so serious. I’m not implying anything awful, I’m just saying that the twelve-footer is a lot of work, and without family around to help or to enjoy it?” She shrugs. “I guess I’m just not feeling it this year.”
“But you love that tree.”
“What can I say? Time marches on, and I’m not sure it’s worth the work any longer. Besides, your dad’s been giving me the what-for about climbing the ladder. He says at our age we can’t be too careful anymore.”
Please. Both of my parents are sharp and spry. However…accidents do happen, and yeah, I guess time is creeping up on all of us. “Hire someone.”
Her eyes roll. “Now you sound exactly like your brother. That’s not my style, and you know it.”
I take a sip of the freshly ground coffee Mom buys from a local gourmet shop. Sure beats the watery brew the motel stocks the room with.
“I’ll help you.”
She swishes the air with her hand. “Oh, you’ve got better things to do.”
Sure, Honey is priority, but depending on how things play out over the next couple days, I should be able to spend some time here with Mom—in between consultations with Cliff back in Chandor and visits to the hospital, that is.
“Nope, nothing better. I want to do it. For old time’s sake. It’ll be fun.”
Poignant cheerfulness brightens her eyes, hitting me in the heart. “Alright, if things work out, we’ll tackle the tree. Let’s play it by ear, okay?”
“Deal.”
I stretch my leg and drag my foot along Dozer’s brindled coat. With a rumbling grunt, he tips onto his back, hinting that his tummy wants in on the action.
What a life.
The gingerbread scent from the candle Mom lit as the coffee brewed makes its way from the breakfast bar to mingle with the aroma of our morning coffee. The twined fragrances shouthome for the holidays,yet the usual joy of the season continues to elude.
She taps the cup, making the giant diamond Dad bought her on their thirtieth anniversary flash. “When are you and Rand going to talk?”
Mom has always been a mind reader. Retracting my bare foot, I rest my ankle on my knee. “No plans at the moment.”
“But you will sit down with him eventually, right?” She frowns, making no attempt to disguise her disapproval. “Do not let this thing fester, Knox.”
The onus for making things right rests on me? Don’t see how that’s fair.
On the kitchen table, Mom’s phone, in silent mode, dances. A pic of her and Dad in Santa hats two Christmases ago brightens the display. Seconds after answering, a smile breaks across her cheeks and she reaches for my hand.
Honey is awake and talking.
