Page 83 of Now That It's You
Meg jumped like a kid caught making spitballs in church, and Kyle wondered if all these maternal interruptions would give her some sort of complex.
“Hang on, Mom,” Meg called as she tumbled off Kyle’s lap and landed with a thud on the floor. She scrambled up before Kyle could offer her a hand, and he felt weirdly relieved she seemed more undone by the appearance of her own mother than his. He watched her sprint for the door, tugging down the hem of her T-shirt in a way that made her look guilty as hell.
But Meg’s guilt was the least of Patti Delaney’s problems. That was clear the instant Meg threw open the front door.
“Oh, sweetie—I knew you’d be home,” Meg’s mom sobbed. “Something awful happened.”
Kyle stood up, trying to gauge from this distance whether “something awful” was a hangnail or a death in the family. In his limited experience with Patti, he’d learned it could be either or nothing at all. He moved toward the front door with Bindi falling into step beside him, Floyd on her heels. He felt like the leader of a bizarre inter-species parade.
“Hi, Patti,” he said, stepping beside Meg. “Do you need help?”
“Kyle,” she said, startled enough to take a step back. She regrouped quickly though. “I didn’t realize you’d be here. I’m so sorry about your brother, honey.”
“Thank you.”
He stole a glance at Meg. She wore a guarded expression, which, come to think of it, was exactly how it was anytime he’d seen her around her mother.
“Come on in, Mom,” she said. “What’s wrong? Tell me what’s going on.”
“I’ll tell you all about it in the living room. Could I maybe get a glass of white wine?”
Okay, so whatever was going on wasn’t life-threatening. Kyle turned and led Patti toward the living room even though she clearly knew the way. The bulky charm bracelet on her left wrist clattered and tinkled, prompting Bindi to prick her ears and prance behind them with her nose angled up toward the bracelet.
“Honestly,” Patti sniffed. “I just don’t know what I’m going to do.”
“I’m sure we’ll figure something out,” Kyle said as Meg hurried off toward the kitchen.
Leaving Patti in the living room, Kyle ran to the bathroom and grabbed a box of tissues. He set them on the coffee table, wondering if he should make a quick exit. Meg probably needed time alone with her mother right now. It was getting late anyway, and?—
“Kyle, can I get you another glass of red wine, or would you like white?” Meg called from the kitchen.
He looked at Patti, who was busy trying to pet a snarling Floyd. “Here, kitty, kitty . . .”
Floyd growled and skittered under an end table. Kyle turned back to the kitchen to see Meg looking at him with a pleading expression, but he wasn’t sure if she wanted him to stay or go.
“Actually,” he said, “I was thinking I should probably get ho?—”
“Red!” she shouted, grabbing the bottle off the counter with a maniacal look in her eye. “Coming right up.”
“Uh, red would be great.” Okay, so he wasn’t going anywhere.
“Have a seat, Mom,” Meg called. “I’ll bring your wine right out and you can tell me all about what’s going on.”
Kyle turned to see Patti had given up on Floyd and was puttering around the living room picking up picture frames and putting them back down again. She snatched a little glass tiger by the neck, turning it upside down to admire the bottom. Her bulky charm bracelet hit the edge of a small elephant figurine, and it toppled from the edge of the table toward the ground.
“Oh!” she gasped as Kyle leapt forward and caught the figurine six inches from the floor. He set it down on the table as Patti wandered off. Glancing back toward the kitchen, he was rewarded by a thankful look from Meg.
She had a bottle of white wine in some sort of chilling sleeve, a white wine glass, and a bowl of something he recognized as her homemade cheese straws.
Sticking around didn’t seem like such a hardship with those cheese straws to fortify him, so he headed back to the couch.
“Why don’t we have a seat, Patti?” he suggested. He started to guide her toward the loveseat, then realized that would put him on the couch beside Meg. Something about that didn’t feel right. He should be the one seated as a bystander to whatever emergency mother and daughter needed to discuss.
“Right here,” he said, settling Patti on the sofa before claiming a spot on the loveseat. Bindi trotted over and parked herself at his feet, while Floyd ambled behind his new best friend. The cat paused long enough to sniff Patti’s shoe, then growled and hopped up on his favorite paisley chair.
“So, Mom,” Meg said as she set the tray on the table and seated herself beside her mother. “Talk to me. What’s wrong? What’s happening?”
“It’s your father,” Patti sniffed. “He’s having an affair. Again.”
