Page 54 of What Happens This Christmas
“Do you think your clock in the kitchen is broken?” my mother asked, looking up from her crossword puzzle, her eyes landing on Candy. My mother was always doing something. She wasn’t fond of idle hands or an idle mind. In a way, it’d served her well. She was as nimble and sharp as she’d ever been, a fact I was endlessly grateful for with every additional turn around the sun she took.
Candy shot up from where she sat at the dining room table, the long skirt she wore sweeping around her ankles as she moved. “I’ll go see what the holdup is.” Our meals were never served late, so even I couldn’t figure out what was going on in the kitchen.
I knew my mother could be prickly, but she was a woman of routine and commitment, so when someone said dinner was at seven, she expected it. I didn’t see anything wrong with that. I only wished she would cut Candy a little slack. Not everything was her fault.
“Mom,” I said when Candy left the room. It was just the two of us since Eloise had made other dinner plans. “Did I tell you I ran into Elio Deluca’s nephew, Vito, the other night at the holiday party Candy and I went to?” Elio and my mother went way back. I wondered if she’d made arrangements to connect with him while she was in the city.
Taking her reading glasses off, she set them atop her puzzle book. “Why, no, you didn’t. I haven’t spoken to Elio in quite some time.” I supposed that answered my question. “I’m curious how he is. Did his nephew say?”
“No. We didn’t talk for long. I only saw him on our way out. You should call Elio while you’re here,” I coaxed. It’d be good for her to connect with an old friend, get out and have a little time for herself. And, in the process, she’d be giving Candy a little space too. It would do them both a world of good, I was sure.
“You should know me better by now. I’m here for you, my son. I don’t want to go traipsing all around the city like I’m…I’m…Candy.”
“Mom,” I admonished, clasping my hands together and threading my fingers as I shook my head. For everything I loved about my mother, I could do without her taking jabs at my wife at every turn. Every time she did when I was around, it made my heart race unnecessarily. In a way, it was like sitting around, waiting for the other shoe to drop. Sure, Candy tried around her and was the picture of cordial, but one day, I feared that’d go out the window, and these two would go to the mats.
“What?” She didn’t move a muscle, her expression stoic. “I’m sorry, but if your wife spent more time being here for you, then maybe you wouldn’t have asked her for a divorce.” She snapped the cap on her pen, signaling that she was not going to return to her puzzle. No, this conversation was one she seemed all too happy to have with me. Like she’d just been waiting for her opportunity to have her say on the subject. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed howbusyshe keeps herself.”
Funny. I always preferred Candy to stay busy, but my mother would never understand that. Candy had a plethora of interests and people she socialized with. I didn’t need some kept woman. “It’s not like that,” I defended my wife.
My mother pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes, looking at me closely. “Even so. For her to make a demand that you spend the holidays with her, it’s pitiful, really. I can’t believe you agreed to this…prison sentence.” She shook her head as if that’d help her believe it.
There was a good chance the next words I said would fall on deaf ears, but I said them anyway. “It’s called compromise.”
“Compromise is going to bed at a time that is in the middle of what you both prefer. Compromise is not shackling yourself to someone for one of the most magical times of the year. You should be a free man if that’s what you want. You could have had Christmas with me in Maine. It would’ve been lovely, and I would’ve doted on you like you deserve. Something your wife doesn’t seem to know much about.”
“Mom, please.” I didn’t need that kind of attention, that kind of smothering. In fact, I much preferred the opposite. That was why Candy and I always worked. We were both independent people. “Don’t let her hear you saying these things.” I didn’t need more mounted on the heap of shit we were buried under these days. We had enough going on between the two of us as it was.
“Why? You think she can hear me over the awful music she has playing.” She brought a hand to her temples and rubbed them. “I can hardly believe I’m being subjected to this.”
“It’s Christmas music, Mom.” Any other time of the year and I may have agreed with my mother, but this was the season to rock around the tree, as the song went.
She dropped her hands and exhaled. “It’s for children, and it’s going to make this old lady need hearing aids before her time.”
Unable to pretend she hadn’t said she hated the music, I stood up and found the remote to lower it.
Candy strolled in from the kitchen, carrying a glass. She wore a smile, but I knew it was all for show. Nothing about thisevening was making Candy a happy woman. In a way, that was a sentiment I understood all too well. “The beef Wellington is almost done, so I thought you might like another drink, Mother Crane.”
My mother turned her nose up and looked away. “I don’t. Thank you. I’ve had enough alcohol on an empty stomach.”
“We had our soup already, Mother Crane.”
Why would she go and bring up the appetizer?
Chef, I’d like to borrow one of those pots so I can hit myself over the head with it. Not enough to cause any real damage, just enough to get a concussion and not have to be here while also breaking up this meal before things escalated.
“Soup is merely dirty water, especially the way your chef prepares it. So, I think I’ll pass on another…drink.” The word fell from her lips with contempt. “Unless, of course, you’d like me to float out of here like a drunkard.” Her eyes flared as she addressed Candy.
That would have hardly been the case. In fact, I was positive my mother had never been drunk a day in her life.
Watching their interaction, my gut clenched. It took everything in me not to pound my fist on the table just to get them to come up for air. They needed a time-out. “Why don’t we leave the table for a few minutes? I’d like to show you both something I’ve been working on.” It wasn’t exactly the way I wanted to spend my time, but some things were out of my control.
My mother’s eyes danced with curiosity, but the scowl she wore on her face told another story entirely. “Leave the table? That’s not proper. We’re not done. Do you and your wife do this often? Eat in parts?”
“No—” Candy started, but one look at me, and she stopped herself from going on, which was exactly what I wanted when Ishot her an intense glare, my jaw locked. I was glad she picked up on my cue.
“Mother, please.”
“Does it have to do with that piano your wife is so proud of? She told me all about it. Not that I’d asked. Ridiculous gift, if you ask me.” She closed her eyes and shook her head like she was admonishing a small child.
