“We haven’t seen her in ten years, since we were teenagers. Maybe she’s mellowed out some.”
I snorted. “Right. Our mom. Mellow.”
He shot me a look. “Just promise me you’ll try to get along with her.”
“I’ll try,” I said.
“Thank you.”
I sighed then, looking out of the window. Our flight was almost over, but it seemed like the closer we got to home, the more nervous I got. I was older now—almost thirty—but the idea of facing my mother after all of these years still unnerved me. She had always been a harsh woman, controlling and bitter, even after she’d married Rick. Both Eric and I had thought that the marriage would calm her down, make her softer, but Rick and his daughter had only seemed to exacerbate her moods.
“Does Ella still live with her? Did her grandmother ever die?”
“I don’t know,” Eric said. I had barely thought about our stepsister for years and had nearly forgotten she’d existed before Eric brought up the idea of going to visit. “I guess we’ll find out.”
“I guess,” I said, trying not to sound grim about it. My brother had always been an eternal optimist and I had a feeling that he was looking at this trip through rose-colored glasses; that is, he didn’t expect things to go the way I did. I didn’t predict being able to spend two days in my mother’s presence without wanting to crawl out of my skin. Eric thought that we’d get along fine, that maybe she’d have changed in the ten years that we were away. I doubted it.
When the flight was over, we left the airport, getting a taxi to take us to the country where our large childhood home was located. I hadn’t even missed the city here, which was dark and industrial, and even though our home was located away from most of the smog and smell of the denser populations, I could still sense all of the massive machinery looming over us.
When we got to the estate, I stared at the house as we pulled up the long drive. It was massive and intimidating, my childhood home. The outside was all dark wood with an even darker finish, the architecture gothic and foreboding. I saw my mom standing on the porch as we pulled up and took a deep breath. She looked almost the same as she always had, stern, though there was a small smile on her face that had usually been reserved for my brother. He had always been the golden child, the good one, her first born even though he was only a few minutes older than me. Eric had never been close to our mother but she adored him when she did see him.
I wasn’t surprised when we got out of the car and she approached Eric first while I stood by, putting her hands on his cheeks and looking up into his face. He smiled at her—a warm smile, one that I didn’t think I’d be able to muster. Mom wrapped him in a hug and looked at me over his shoulder, her expression dropping in warmth a little bit.
“Eric,” she said, pulling back so she could look at his face. Then she glanced at me. “Julian. My boys. Come in.”
We followed her inside, where she led us through the foyer and into the front room. She gestured for us to sit down and sat down in the chair across from where we’d taken the couch, looking us both over.
“Are you hungry?” she asked, and I almost snorted in response. I hadn’t expected something so simple and maternal from her. I must have made a face because she shot me a look, one of disdain and annoyance.
“We’re fine, Mom,” said Eric, glancing over at me. Then he leaned forward, looking at Mom. “How are you?”
“Oh, you know,” she said. “I’ve missed you boys. I can’t believe it’s been ten years since you’ve come to visit me.”
“You didn’t exactly invite us,” I said, unable to keep myself from mentioning it. My mother didn’t say anything, didn’t take her eyes away from Eric.
“We’re sorry, Mom,” Eric said. “We’ve been busy with work. I’m a lawyer now and Julian’s an artist.”
“An artist?” she asked, putting her hand to her chest and giving a small sarcastic laugh. “I never would have thought. What kind of art do you do?”
“I draw. Just like I always did. Do you remember? When I was a kid?”
She waved me off with a hand. “Of course, I remember your little doodles, Julian. I just can’t believe you went and tried to make a career out of it.”
“I did make a career out of it,” I said, my jaw clenched. “I—”
It was then that the door opened and I paused when I saw who it was on the other side. It was our stepsister, Ella, only she was no longer the skinny and awkward teenager our mother had brought home eleven years ago. When she stepped into the light, I saw that she was lovely, her hair dark and long, curled below her shoulders and messy in her face. She pushed it back when she met my eye, her expression going cold. My mother turned to her.
“What is it, Ella?”
“Dinner’s ready,” Ella said, glancing over at Eric, then back at me.
“Fine,” said my mother. She stood up, straightening her skirt as we followed her into the dining room. I kept my eyes on Ella as we went, drinking in her features. Age had widened her out a bit, made her body curvier and given her face a softer, sweeter shape. Her eyes were still large and blue, her lips pink and full and in a slight pout as we took our seats at the table. I didn’t see Ella’s grandmother, who had always scared both Eric and me so much that we dreaded when she came to dinner. I wondered if she was still alive but didn’t know how to ask, so I figured that I would just find out at some point.
“Ella,” Eric said after a moment. “It’s good to see you. How are you?”
“I’m fine.”
She didn’t say anything else. It was quiet for a moment before my mother spoke up.
“So you’re a lawyer, Eric?” she asked. “Tell me about that.”
“There’s not a lot to say,” my brother said. “I work for myself representing various corporations. It’s really boring stuff. Julian has much more going on than I do.”
“He’s an artist,” Mom said, giving a derisive snort. “How much do artists have going on?”
I said nothing. I looked down at my plate as I ate my food, though occasionally I would glance up at Ella. She wasn’t looking at any of us. I wasn’t surprised by her cold reaction—when our parents had gotten married, both Eric and I had been horrible to Ella. We had only been eighteen—complete idiots—but that had been no excuse for the way we’d treated her. Both of us had been upset when our mother got remarried to Rick, especially back then when we were young; we had come from money, while Rick and Ella had nothing but an old scary grandma to bring to the table. We’d both teased Ella without mercy because of it, and looking at her now filled me with a regret that I had all but forgotten about in the years I’d been away from home.
Ella looked up and met my eye, staring at me coolly, a challenge on her face. I had to stifle a smile at the bold, unbending expression. At the very least, Ella wasn’t afraid of us anymore. She was angry, but she wouldn’t bow if I tried to treat her the way I had in the past.
“Julian just won an award, Mom,” Eric said. I snapped a look at him, giving a small shake of the head, but it was too late to change the subject before my mother got a chance to respond.
“What kind of an award?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. I cleared my throat.
“I had a piece being displayed in the local museum—”
“A local museum,” Mom said, cutting me off. “How charming.”
“Yes.” I gritted my teeth. “Anyway, I won first in a competition.”
“Great,” said Mom, her voice sarcastic.
“He won a lot of money, Mom,” Eric said.
“Good for him.”
“I need to go up and feed Grandma,” Ella said then, interrupting the conversation before I had a chance to respond to my mother’s venom. “Can I go?”
“No, you cannot go,” my mother said. “You can go when we’re all finished. Why do you have to be so rude, Ella? You haven’t seen your brothers in ten years.”
“They’re not my brothers,” Ella spat, her eyes narrowing.
<
br /> “You will show some respect,” said my mother.
“Let her go, Mom,” I said. “Just let her go.”
“Julian—” said Eric, but Ella cut him off.
“It’s fine,” she said, though her voice was full of poison. She didn’t look grateful that I’d stood up for her. In fact, she looked annoyed that I had spoken on her behalf. She avoided my eye, avoided looking at all of us for the rest of dinner as she stared at her plate.
“What kind of corporations do you represent?” my mother asked Eric then, decidedly ignoring both Ella and me. There was a tension in my stomach that was making me feel irritable and hot all over. I could feel Ella’s presence, though I was trying not to stare at her. She was seething; I knew that I would be too if I were trapped there at the table like she was, forced to be around people who had never treated her kindly. I could see now that it had been more of the same from my mother when it came to Ella, and I felt something in myself ache for the way she had to live her life.
I finished eating as Eric went into some of the details of his work, details I had heard before. I couldn’t focus on what he was saying anyway—I was so miserable, the need to get out of the room almost overwhelming. By the time dinner was finished, Ella was sitting at the edge of her seat, and when my mother finally stood up, Ella practically sprinted from the dining room and into the kitchen. I wanted to follow her, to talk to her and apologize for all those years before, but I knew that it would do no good. Instead, I excused myself and went to bed, leaving Eric and my mother downstairs to talk while I disappeared to be blessedly alone.
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About the Author
When I’m not indulging my sweet tooth with things I really shouldn’t be eating, you’ll usually find me buried deep in a steamy book - reading it or writing it!
I have a wonderful partner and a great relationship, but every now and then, I find myself fantasizing about the kind of sizzling, chiseled men you see on romance book covers. What better way to embrace those fantasies than to express them in words and share all the dirty details with you? After all, we all have a naughty side, don’t we?
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