by Lulu Pratt
But it’s something that I know I need, that I know is good for me, my daughter and for Lara, and I’m not going to let Riley’s grandparents, any of them, take that away from us. We just have to make sure that if we do end up having to go to court, we go in to win.
Before I know it, I’m in the car headed to Nathan’s house, and Riley is chattering to my mom, and Dad is sitting next to me in the passenger seat looking annoyed but keeping his temper. I sure as hell hope that Lara is ready for what Thanksgiving is going to be like, because I’m not sure any of us really can be. I know we just have to get through it. The court dates are ahead of us all if we don’t manage to bring everyone together, and the first one is just a little bit before Christmas. We have to pull this off, one way or another.
Chapter Thirty-Three
LARA
I answer the door when Ethan and his parents knock, and I say a little half-conscious prayer to myself that everything will manage in the end to come out all right. It’s not even addressed to anyone, apart from maybe my dead sister. Please just let us all get through this without someone losing a limb or an eye.
Right away the tension in the living room is so much higher than I would have even imagined possible. Ethan’s parents take their seats and Ethan and I are on the couch between them, while Riley runs around, wanting to get moving after sitting in the car for about fifteen minutes. But in a matter of minutes, as my dad and Ethan’s dad exchange bland small talk, Riley starts to notice, already, that something is wrong.
At first, she’s just going from person to person, asking them to pick her up, and then squirming and wriggling in discomfort once she’s on someone’s lap. This happens one after the other to all of us, even Ethan, as Riley tries to figure out, in her smartest two-year-old thoughts, what the hell is happening. I can see her trying to piece it together but there’s nothing I can do, at least for now.
I get up and get the turkey out of the oven, and keep an ear open for the conversation in the living room. Ethan’s parents brought some corn casserole and some sweet potatoes to add to the big feast, already way bigger than all of us can even think to consume, spread on the table. Once the turkey joins everything else, I try to imagine what it’s going to be like divvying up leftovers. It’s going to be ridiculous. But I can’t stay too long in the kitchen or dining room. I know that with tension like what’s going on between my dad and Ethan’s parents, if I’m gone long enough something is bound to come up. Besides, I can hear Riley beginning to whine in the way she does when she’s tired and confused.
“We just have to wait for dinner to cool off and then we can all eat,” I say, coming into the room. I scoop up Riley and suggest that she might want to play with some of my old dolls. I hate to leave Ethan alone to make sure that my dad and his parents don’t start arguing, but the need to keep moving is too strong.
We go into my room and I find one of the few remaining boxes of my old toys. Most of them were given away when I’d grown out of them, and I find a couple of dolls for Riley to play with while she’s waiting for the rest of us to get dinner served. I come back into the living room as quickly as I can, and I can feel the tension has ratcheted up. For the moment, at least, both my dad and Ethan’s are still talking about the game, or the dog show on later, or things like that. We may be able to get through this whole ordeal without things getting too serious.
“Josie, would you help me out with the last few details on the table?” I cock my head to the side to give Ethan’s mom a little look. I know she’s not all that fond of me since the situation with my dad has been developing, but when Ethan and I dated, she liked me well enough. I can only hope that eventually she remembers what kind of woman I actually am.
“Sure thing, Lara,” she says, and I know she’s probably less than thrilled to help me, but it at least gets her out of the room. I’m pretty sure that Ethan can handle just his dad and mine for a few minutes while I finish setting things up with his mom.
“I appreciate that you were willing to come to Dad’s house for Thanksgiving, for Riley’s sake,” I say as I get the last of the place settings down on the table and start pouring water into glasses. Riley’s in her high chair, playing with the dolls I got for her, almost oblivious to what’s going on, but I can almost see the tension in her shoulders, in her jaw, like she’s waiting for something to change.
“We wanted to be with our granddaughter on the holiday, and this seemed like the easiest way,” Josie says.
“I’m glad that we can all be here, be around Riley, on a day like this,” I tell her. It’s stilted and awkward, but it’s what I can manage at a moment like this.
Finally, I call the others into the dining room. I figured that any discussion over who would carve the turkey would just be an opening to a fight, so I have the meat fork and the carving knife in my hands before anyone can even make a claim.
Ethan takes the dolls away from Riley to start serving her food, and she fusses. At first it just seems like the normal fussing that kids do when they have to put their toys down for anything, but when Ethan’s dad makes a sharp comment to my dad, something about toys being taken away, Riley’s upset deepens.
“I think this is enough white meat and dark meat to start with,” I say, pitching my voice as lightly as possible and just loud enough to cut through whatever my dad was about to say back.
“Let’s all get settled in, and have some of this delicious food,” Ethan suggests. I agree with him and he and I end up settling ourselves at the end of the table, on either side of Riley, while his parents take up a position opposite my father, and all three of the older people in the room have this vibe of tension between them.
“Where Mommy?”
I look at Riley quickly. It’s been weeks, maybe even months, since the last time I can remember her asking for her mother.
“She’s not here, peaches,” I tell her softly. “But we’re all going to have a good Thanksgiving, right everyone?” I turn away from my niece and send a hard look around the table to remind these grown men and woman that their two-year-old granddaughter is watching them and reacting to them.
“We are surely going to try,” Josie says.
I make sure that Riley has a little bit of everything, and Ethan takes over helping her get the food to her mouth, while I serve myself. His parents and my father take pretty ample portions of everything, but I notice right away that Dad’s barely taken enough of anything that Ethan’s parents brought to qualify as a serving. Ethan’s parents, in turn, have skimped on the turkey, of all the things they could have gotten as little of as possible.
I start in on my food and try to rack my brain for what to say, how to get a conversation going that won’t have anything to do with the court case or the vicious, toxic drama going on all around us as a family.
“These greens are excellent, Josie,” I say.
“Thank you, Lara, I know you’ve always liked them,” she replies.
It’s so tense at the table that you could almost chisel through the stony air between my dad and Ethan’s parents, and Riley starts to notice it again. I can almost sense her realizing the atmosphere without knowing how to explain it or what’s going on. Instead she just slows down in her eager eating and, once again, asks where her mother is, which of course just tightens everything around us all even more.
Chapter Thirty-Four
ETHAN
If I thought that it would have been any easier to deal with the situation between my parents and Lara’s dad without Riley being involved, I never would have agreed to the Thanksgiving plan. Of course, now that we’re trying to make that plan happen, I almost feel like we both should have realized that our parents wouldn’t be able to hold it together enough for Riley not to notice.
“Where’s Mommy?”
I look at Riley and then at Lara. There’s nothing that we can tell my daughter that we haven’t already told her a dozen times, at least.
“She’s not here anymore, sweetie,” I tell Riley, the sa
me as I’ve told her every time the question has come up. It hasn’t come up in weeks, not since a little bit before her birthday, even, but it always catches me off-guard because there’s no really good answer that a two-year-old can accept.
“Why?”
I look at Lara again.
“She can’t be here with us, baby girl,” Lara says.
“Why?”
If I thought it was awkward dealing with my parents and my father-in-law, it’s even more awkward dealing with my daughter’s sudden insistence in knowing what’s going on with her mother and why Alexis isn’t here.
“She’s gone, Riley. You remember how we saw the bug outside the other day, curled up and not moving, and we buried it in the park? It’s like that,” I tell her.
I know it doesn’t make any sense to Riley, and it’s probably appalling for everyone else at the table, but I have to give my daughter some kind of explanation, even if it’s one that she doesn’t really have the ability to get. My daughter nods but I can tell she doesn’t get it, she just wants someone to tell her something.
Riley turns her attention onto her grandparents, and I try to get her to get back to eating, pulling her attention onto the cranberry sauce I know she loves, or the turkey. My parents and Lara’s father are still eating, but the sheer level of the tension in the room is making even me uncomfortable.
“I have to say, I’m really grateful we could do this,” Lara says, trying to do her best to get through it, and I have to admire her ability to just keep going.
“Why Gramma mean?”
My mother pauses in her eating to look at my daughter.
I look sharply at Riley.
“What do you mean, little lamb?”
“Gramma mean face,” Riley insists, frowning at my mother. I know what she means, but of course, none of us can say anything about it. It’s that sour look that Mom gets every few moments, glancing at either Nathan or Lara.
“Why don’t we get you a little bit of pie, sweetie?” Lara says trying to change the course of the conversation.
Riley’s eaten just enough of her actual dinner to justify giving her dessert, and I want her out of the room as quickly as possible. In any case, she needs a nap, and she needs to get away from the tense atmosphere.
Lara gets her some pie, and we manage to get through the next few minutes as Riley makes pumpkin and pecan paste on her plate and finally gets some into her mouth. Mom and Dad talk about everything but the family, and Nathan is silent. Lara and I have to just try to focus on Riley without making it weird.
“Isn’t it good?” Riley nods in response to Lara’s question.
“Yummy!” She beams at Lara and I catch just the briefest glimpse of that sour look on my mom’s face again before she asks Dad about one of his clients at work.
“Can you say ‘pumpkin’, Riley?” I ask.
Riley screws up her face into a twisted expression of concentration, as she thinks about my question. “Punkin!”
“That’s pumpkin, that’s pecan,” Lara says, pointing them out.
“Punkin! Pee-kin!” Riley giggles, and I’m starting to think that we might just get through this, that things might be getting back to normal at least for an hour or two, long enough for us to finish the Thanksgiving meal.
Riley finishes her slices of pie and Lara looks at me as she finishes her own plate of food. We’ve been taking turns eating and supervising Riley’s eating, and I’ve managed one helping of the dinner. I want a little more, but first we need to get Riley down for her nap.
“I’ll take her if you want,” Lara says, once we’ve got Riley cleaned.
“Let’s both go,” I suggest. I know it’s probably not that great an idea, leaving my parents alone with Nathan, but I need to get out of the room as much as my daughter does, even if I understand the situation while she doesn’t.
Lara gives me a look, but after a moment, she nods for me to follow her into Alexis’ old room. Riley’s already looking sleepy, and as soon as we’re out of the grandparents’ company, she begins to relax in a way she hasn’t since we arrived.
“Nap time?” Riley yawns hugely, in spite of the tone in her voice that tells me that she wants to argue.
“Yes, it’s time to have a little sleep,” Lara tells her. Riley frowns but then yawns again, and I think to myself that it’s only going to take a few minutes to actually get her down.
We get her onto Alexis’ old bed. It’s awkward again for a minute or two, and I’m pretty sure that Lara is thinking of her sister, just like I’m thinking of my wife. But the moment passes as Riley asks for a story. Lara looks at me and then curls up on the bed next to my little girl, relaxing.
“There once was a smart, beautiful little girl named Haley,” Lara says, starting in on a story. I’ve heard her tell Riley stories before, but every time I see it, it’s just beautiful to me. Alexis would read to Riley, but never made up stories like Lara, just out of the blue.
It’s a little bit of magic in a stressful day, watching Riley’s eyelids get heavier and heavier, listening to Lara while I sit at the foot of the bed, watching them both. If I didn’t know better, I’d almost think that Riley was Lara’s daughter, instead of my wife’s. That opens up a thought that I should probably not be thinking. What would my life be like if Lara and I never broke up, or if Alexis and I hadn’t got together years after Lara dumped me?
Before too long, Riley’s given up any fight with nap time, and she’s not quite snoring, sprawled out on the bed with a little blanket covering her. I silently put up the barrier to keep her from falling off the edge while she naps, and Lara and I creep out of the room as quietly as we can.
By the time we get downstairs, though, it’s obvious just how bad an idea leaving our parents alone was, we barely get to the bottom of the staircase and I hear my mother’s voice, raised almost to a shout, and Nathan’s voice cutting through hers. Obviously, we’ve been away just long enough for them all to get into a fight.
Chapter Thirty-Five
LARA
“You are not going to take our granddaughter away from us,” I hear Ethan’s dad saying, and I know before we even get into the dining room that he’s talking to my father.
“I am not going to let your son get away with destroying my family again,” Dad says in response, and I look at Ethan. We both know that we can’t let something like this just slide, but we also both know that there’s no real point in trying to stop the argument.
“We need to get Riley out of here,” I say.
Ethan nods. “You go get her and put her in your car,” he suggests.
“What are you going to do then, Ethan?” I ask, dreading the response.
My heart’s beating fast, I can feel it at my neck and in my chest. Just the thought of what’s going on, how incredibly complicated and tense it’s become, the explosion that’s happening right now, is enough to send me into a kind of fight-or-flight mode.
“I’m going to tell them that we’re leaving, and that Mom and Dad can find their own way home,” Ethan says, sounding way calmer than I feel.
“That will go well,” I say sarcastically, but I’m glad that he’s taking care of that aspect of the situation.
“Just take care of Riley, and I’ll get us out of here,” Ethan says.
I head back up the stairs as quickly as I can, hoping against hope that Riley won’t wake from her nap, even while knowing how unlikely that is. I hear Ethan go into the kitchen and turn on the landing between the floors, shaking my head. This is becoming an absolute shit show, and for a moment, as I reach my sister’s bedroom door, I wonder if we shouldn’t have done things differently.
But then, I remind myself, something like this was bound to happen, no matter what we did. We had to give our parents a chance to do the right thing, and now we had. We just have to go on with things the way we talked about.
I manage to get Riley off the bed without waking her, and I pause at the door to the bedroom, listening to hear if the argument is st
ill raging. It’s gone shockingly quiet downstairs, so I take advantage of the moment and just scurry downstairs as quickly as I can, grabbing my purse from next to the door and hurrying out to my car before anyone can say anything to me.
I get Riley into her car seat and she stirs for a moment, but she’s truly in a turkey coma. She goes right back to sleep, not quite snoring her deep breaths. Maybe three minutes later, I see Ethan coming out of the house, walking quickly to my car.
“I told them they can take my car home,” he says, coming around to the passenger side. I give him a wry grin and climb in behind the wheel, and start the car. Once again, Riley stirs murmuring something, but by the time we’ve pulled away from my father’s house and started down the road, she’s asleep once again, and for good.
We don’t really talk all the way back to Ethan’s place, and by the time we get there my nerves are calmed a bit and I can think some about what happened at the table.
I put Riley to bed in her nursery and when I come out, Ethan is standing in the living room, looking a little lost. Before I even know what I’m doing, I’m walking right up to him, wrapping my arms around him, holding him tightly. I bury my head against his chest and feel his heart beating against my cheek and for the first time in a long time I actually feel safe. Safe, comforted, and comfortable in a way I hadn’t expected to feel for years.
Ethan turns my face up to him and then he’s kissing me, his arms still tight around me, but I know, somehow, that if I want to stop, if I pull back and tell him we can’t do this, that he will stop. Just knowing that fact, and how much I really and truly need this right now, is enough to make me kiss him back.
Gradually, things heat up between us, and I find myself touching him all over, as if I have to memorize the shape of his body through his clothes by feel. Ethan is doing the same thing to me, cupping and squeezing my breasts, letting his hands drop down along my waist to my hips. The last time we hooked up, neither of us said that we could never do it again, not like the first couple of times, but we’ve both avoided, at least a little bit, being alone together like this.