Jeffery

I woke to the smell of bacon. I sat up and looked over at the alarm clock on the bedside table. Charlotte was still asleep, curled up. There was an indention in the pillow next to her where I had been lying. We'd taken to sleeping together in my old bedroom. Things were growing increasingly chaotic and like rising action in a narrative, I felt the explosion that was about to take place. I couldn't predict exactly what it would be but the series of escalating undercurrents had a tense, unpredictable quality. We were also engaged which I think gave us latitude to do things my father would have objected to otherwise. I slipped out of bed and pulled a pair of jeans out of my suitcase. Both of our suitcases were a mess, clothes pulled out and thrown back in. The floor was covered with our things. It caused a memory to surface. It was just an abbreviated glimpse, I was young and we had been staying at a rental house on Cape Cod. It was quite a ways from Chicago and I couldn't remember if we'd flown or drove in the station wagon we owned back then. Mom's car. The memory was merely a flash. It had surfaced when I saw the clothes there, the veritable aftermath of two people who didn't notice things like that. I stood still for a moment while it took hold, became a memory. It was of my mother in the bedroom she and dad were staying in at the cottage. She was unpacking my father's things. The suitcase, perfectly organized to begin with. She was removing his clothes one by one and hanging them in the closet or placing them in the drawer. I remembered a pile on the bed. I'd asked her why they were there like that and she'd told be because they were wrinkled and she was about to iron them before she put them away. It was peculiar how things could just come to a person like that. A random association. It made me think of my book. It had only been a few days but without my daily ritual of coffee, sitting in my office and staring at the gray Atlantic, it was as if my story had temporarily evaporated. My protagonist --like myself in that moment-- was following the map of fragmented memories without an inkling of his destination. I picked a half folded t-shirt from the suitcase and then walked over to the bed. I sat down next to Charlotte. She was still wearing her make up from the night before. One of her false eye lashes was coming unglued, just a little at the corner. She didn't look foolish, it was just something I noticed, the black line a bit off center. I gently shook her. 

"Charlotte." I whispered. "I'm going down to help mom."

She opened her eyes. I could see she was half awake. "Should I get up?" she asked.

"No. sleep in. It's early."

"Do you mind? Will your mother think I'm terrible?"

"She loves you." I bent down and kissed her cheek. "Go back to sleep." She turned over.

I ran my fingers through my hair. As I walked down the stairs, the smell of bacon grew stronger. It reminded me of Christmas but also of weekends before high school games. I'd forgotten my mom's dedication to our activities. She'd prepare a big breakfasts before tournaments and games. We'd load up our gear and she'd drive us and watch us play, up in the stands –warm or cold outside—and she'd keep her eyes on us and cheer. Sometimes she'd sit with the other parents, sometimes alone. Often Matt would join her and when I looked up from the dugout or the field, I could see them talking and laughing. She had been in love with him.

As I approached the bottom of the stairs, I heard Chuck Berry's Run Run Rudolf coming from the parlor. I peeked into the room. There were presents spilling out from under the tree. I looked further into the room, into the area with the piano was stationed in front of the French doors. Through the glass, I could see the snow falling in heavy flakes, mounds over the shrubs that added a cartoon effect to the scene. Mom was dancing with my brother's 3 year old son Frankie on her hip. She spun him around and he squealed and giggled.

She pulled him close and whisper "shh" against his cheek.

"More Grandma!" When the song ended, the record player made a click and another record dropped from the stack of 45s. Burl Ives started up with A Holly Jolly Christmas. She danced with my nephew but at a slower pace.

"Watch me Granma!" he said and squirmed down from her hip. "Do what I'm doing."

She watched him as he made up a clumsy dance. He bent his knees and lifted his arms in the air. Mom watched him and tried to copy his moves, "like this?"

He stopped and looked at me.

Mom turned and smiled. "What are you doing up?" She picked up Frankie. My affection for her was so strong. It was touching to see how much she loved her grandson. It linked me to how much she'd loved us as kids and I realized that she'd love my children as much. She walked over to me and kissed me on the cheek. "Merry Christmas, Darling."

"Merry Christmas." Frankie reached for me and I put my arms out and took him from mom. "You look pretty." I said, "you must have gotten up at 4:00 in the mooring to fix yourself up and make breakfast."

"Don't be silly. I just got out of bed."

She did look beautiful. Her hair was in a soft wave around her face. She wore an ivy green wrap around dress and a strand of pearls. "Come into the kitchen I'll make you a coffee."

"Frankie!" I heard Peggy call out in a frustrated whisper. He squealed when he heard his mother's voice, tried to squirm out back down to the floor, to run away no doubt. When I didn't let him down, he hid his face against me.

Peggy entered the room. She was in a yellow chenille robe. She was shaking her head. "I need to get him dressed, mom." She said to my mother.

"Of course." Mom said.

Peggy reached and plucked him out of my arms.

"I want to get a present first!" He was squirming to get away from her.

"Once you're dressed. It's Christmas. We're going to open the presents all together." She turned back towards the guest room.. "I'll be back in a few minutes." She stopped and walked back. "Merry Christmas mom," she said and kissed my mother on the cheek. Frankie copied her, "Merry Christmas Mom" and leaned to kiss her too.

My mother laughed. "He is exactly like Charlie was...smart and silly." My mother kissed him on the cheek.

"Merry Christmas Jeffery," Peggy said and put her free arm around me.

Nat King Cole's Merry Christmas started up in the living room.

"Come let me make you a coffee. We can sit and talk," my mother said.

We walked into the kitchen and I saw the Christmas meal spread out in varying stages of preparation. There were small glass bowls of celery, breadcrumbs. I saw sticks of butter left out to soften. The turkey sat dressed in a roasting pan on the counter under the brick arch on the wall behind the counter. She let out a breath and smiled at me. I sat on the barstool at the counter. She carried over a cup of coffee for me and one for her.

"What do you take in it darling?" she asked.

"Nothing just like this is fine." The coffee was hot and I blew on it before I took a sip. She stood across from me.

"You really have been up since four in the morning. " I remarked looking around.

"I've been thinking about it but I keep forgetting to ask you." She said.

"What's that?"

"Your book. What's your novel about? Your story in Harpers was very interesting."

She kept her eyes fixed on me. Rapt interest and attention. I knew that must have been how she looked when she was teaching. I sometimes forgot that she had a career. That she had taught at the junior college before she returned to teaching high school students. She taught English and was better read than I was. I rarely saw that side of her. She took a sip of her coffee and waited.

"It's about a forgotten experience," I guess. "At play in a man's life. He's only twenty, still in college and is plagued by a memory. One point in time that haunts him."

She nodded. She didn't say anything. Another teaching strategy I thought. She gave me more room to elaborate.

I raised my eyebrows and looked at my cup. "Anyway, the memory is of a night at a lake. The water is rusty and murky. This memory appears and disappears through out the story. He wakes up in the morning and it will flash in front of him. The red translucence of the lake water. Even that --the color of the water-becomes imbued with some meaning." I looked out the window at the snow. The window panes were occluded by condensation. "The water is..." I looked up looking for a way to describe it. "at times  translucent. And at other times, opaque."

"What is? The water or the  memory?"

"The memory, the girl under water. He's swimming with a girl. The water feels slimy. It's warm and every now and then he sees a part of her rise from—it's like it's rising from obscurity. The memory bothers him because he senses that something bad happened the moment after his recollection ends. He doesn't know if it's something he did, but he feels as though it is. He thinks he's committed a crime. " I shrugged and looked at her.

"He thinks he did it?"

"Yeah." I took another sip and then I realized something I hadn't before. I looked at my mother. "He thinks he killed her."

She didn't say anything for a moment. "It's very um.." She nodded. She looked distant for a moment but managed a smile. Her eyes met mine. "it sounds very good. You're a very good writer."

"I'm not describing it very well."

"You are so talented. It sounds very good to me." She switched back into her teacher personality. Something had upset her or maybe she was distracted by having to prepare dinner. She took a sip of coffee. "Is that how you're constructing the plot? Around the memory?"

"The memory comes into focus as the story unfolds. So that really is the plot. I've only got it outlined. The memory visually gets clearer. It lasts longer and he is able to piece some of the story together from the little evidence."

"Did he do it? Is that it, did he kill the girl?"

I shrugged. "I don't think he really did. But he doesn't really ever know for sure."

"Oh. Somehow I get the feeling he didn't do it."

"Something that disturbing. That's really it. Something, he can't see--obviously the lake is a metaphor." I let out a breath. "Who knows if I'll even finish it? Either way, I'm really glad I got the cottage on the Cape." I said.

"Oh yeah? Is it nice there?"

"It really is. It makes writing so natural and necessary--I think you would love it."

"I'm sure. We went the Cape a few times when daddy and I were still married." She caught herself for a moment and looked at me. "I mean we're married now. For all intents and purposes."

"But you didn't marry him again after you got back together?"

"We didn't have to." She stared at me for a moment. I didn't know what she meant.

I shrugged. "I guess not."

"Anyway, we went to the Cape several times so your father could work on his paintings. You, Charlie and Clara loved it. There were other children nearby who spent every summer there—I wished we could have gone for more than a month. Do you remember?" She asked me.

"Which part?"

"Do you remember those children?" She looked away for a moment. "The youngest one was hit by a car not long after that summer." She shook her head. "I'd kept in touch with one of the mothers for a time afterwards. It was terrible."

"No. I don't remember."

"Well I'm sure I wouldn't have told you about the child's death."

"No. I was thinking about one of the trips to the Cape just before I came down"
"Were you?"

"I remembered the stupidest detail. You were ironing dad's clothes. Taking them out of the suitcase, putting some away and putting some aside. I remembered asking you what you were doing. You told me you were going to iron them."
"I don't think I would have ironed his clothes while we were at the beach."

"That's what I remembered."

"Well maybe I did."

I turned when I heard Clara.

"Merry Christmas." She said, half sarcastic.

"Would you like coffee, sweetheart?"

"Yes. Please." She walked near to me and put her arm around me. Kissed me on the cheek. "Did my brother tell you that he and his fiancé kept me up until 2:00 in the morning."

Mom poured her coffee. She knew Clara liked it with sugar and milk, she fixed it for her and placed it on the counter. "I was up until midnight." Mom said. I didn't see you kids.

"No." Clara said," they came in just after that. Laughing outside of my bedroom. "We had drinks." Clara said and looked at mom. She raised her eyebrows.

Mom tried to brush it off. "Why are you looking at me. You're old enough to have drinks."

Her expression changed. "I thought you'd have something to say about it."

Mom shook her head and picked up a pan of cinnamon rolls and placed them in the over. She stood back up and walked over to the counter. "Please Clara. You hurt my feelings when you do that. Please don't."

"I like Charlotte." She turned to me. I hated when she did that to mom. I also loathed the fact that she was using me to exclude mom.

"Why don't you sit at the table? Charlie and Peggy will be out in a minute. Where's Charlotte?" mom asked.

"She's so tired. I told her to sleep. I'll go wake her in a little while."

Mom nodded. Clara picked up her coffee cup and walked into the dining room. It wasn't a moment later that I heard Frankie running down the hall yelling "I want a present!"

"That's enough," Charlie's voice was stern and carried even though he was speaking quietly. By the time they arrived in the dining room, mom brought in two cups of coffee. "There's sugar and cream on the table." She said. She scooped up their baby Kate and held her in their arms. Frankie held on to mom's skirt. "Peggy is it all right if Frankie helps me frost the cinnamon rolls?"

Peggy laughed. "Help? Can I help you mom?"

"No darling. Talk with the other kids. You're never together."

It was perfect, but I knew the perfection was a veneer. Not so much because of mom. Before dad, our Christmases were always like that, except for the hint of loneliness that was always detectable in her; even with Matt there. Her sadness left once dad returned, but it was replaced by something worse. The table looked beautiful. There was a white tablecloth with lace edges. There were two centerpieces with poinsettia and ivy. Each place was set with her Christmas china, a delicate white porcelain with red ribbon painted around the edge. There were little boughs of ivy with red berries.

Dad walked into the dining room. He leaned down and kissed Clara and Peggy. "Merry Christmas." He said. He put his hand on my shoulder. He looked back down at Peggy. "Where's the kids?"

"Where do you think Jeff?"

He nodded. "Merry Christmas Charlie." He smiled at my brother.

Charlie nodded and smiled. Clara and I exchanged glances. She raised her eyebrows blew on her coffee and took a sip.

Dad walked into the kitchen and I could spy a view from where I was sitting. Mom had the baby and Frankie in high chairs. Frankie had a wooden spoon and was in deep concentration licking off the frosting. I felt a pang of guilt over my constant suspicion of my father's intentions. He walked close to my mother and put his hand on her waist. He kissed her. I looked down for a moment and reengaged in the conversation. When I looked back up, I saw her opening a small, wrapped box. She looked up at him before opening it. She leaned forward and kissed him. I couldn't see what it was until she held out her hand and he attached a bracelet. She put her arms around him. Of course I thought of the diamond earrings. Elaine. I'd told mom. I knew she was upset at the party the night before. Something had changed since then. There she was accepting a gift. Then she ushered him back into the dining room with us. He sat down and when she put her hand on his shoulder when she looked around at the table to see who needed more coffee, I made out the diamond and sapphire bracelet from his grandmother's jewelry collection. It seemed a sinister act, something a criminal in a TV drama would do. Giving the heirloom jewelry to his wife and mistress. It was an immature thought.

She left for a moment and returned with a coffee for my father. She carried the pot and filled everyone's cups.

"Darling why don't you go get Charlotte. Frankie will want to open presents. That way we can eat breakfast." Just as I stood up, Charlotte walked into the dining room.

'I'm sorry." She said. "I'm sorry I'm so late. I was talking to my mother on the phone."

Mom walked over and put her arm around her. "You're not late at all." Mom inspected her. "You look so pretty Charlotte."
'You do," Clara added. "To think you can look that nice after keeping your sister-in-law up till two in the morning."

'That doesn't even make sense Clara." Charlie chimed in. He was teasing her.

"Aren't you the master attorney?" She said.

"What does that mean, Clara?" Charlie returned.

"Anyway, come sit with us Charlotte." Clara said. "Mom's brining out cinnamon rolls. She makes them every year." Clara turned to my mother. "I have to admit they are delicious."

I wanted to admonish her, the unspoken sentiment was despite how you do everything else wrong. Mom started out of the room when Charlotte said, "I'm sorry I interrupted your call this morning, Mr. Lambert. I didn't realize you were on the other extension when I tried calling my mother."

A silence descended. He could have been calling anyone, but we all knew who he'd called. Dad bit his lip and smiled. "That's quite all right, Charlotte. I was on the phone with my sister Julia."

"What did you need to call Julia for at 7:00 in the morning?" Mom asked. I noticed the bracelet. I'm sure she wanted to take it off and throw it at dad. I wanted her to.

"Just to say Merry Christmas."

A silence descended. Mom turned to the kitchen and left the room. Dad stared at me for a long moment. I felt intimidated. He kept his eyes on me while he took a sip of coffee. I looked down at my plate. Peggy got up, "I'm going to get the children so mom can bring breakfast out."

That was the first missile strike of the day. Dad got up and dropped his napkin on the chair. He looked at me again, his jaw tight. He walked into the kitchen. A moment later Peggy returned holding the baby and pulling Frankie in while he continued to lick the clean icing spoon. Her eyes were wide. She shook her head.

"What did you do? Jeffery?" Clara asked.

"Just like I told you yesterday. I told mom about the earrings."

"He must have called her this morning." Peggy said. "when you picked up the phone, Charlotte."

Charlotte looked worried. "I'm sorry. I didn't know."

"It's not your fault," Charlie said. He sounded like an attorney again. He was cool, collected. Matter of fact. "You'll come to see what an asshole our father is." I put my hand on Charlotte's back.

"Oh stop it Charlie." Clara started up. "You don't even know what happened. You think dad's guilty no matter what he does. If mom is so spineless she deserves it. I think she likes it."

"Shut up Clara. Give it a break." Charlie said. "Grow up."

I leaned over to Charlotte. Somehow I realized we were all doing what we'd always done around our parents. We were searching for evidence, not so much about what was going on between them, but more what was going to happen next. Even Charlie with his strong exterior, he was organizing his defenses. I didn't want Charlotte thrown into it.

"Let's go upstairs for a minute, Charlotte."

"OK." She said. I took her hand and we walked up the stairs. Leaving Clara and Charlie arguing. It was apropos. Charlie represented mom. Clara represented dad. As always, I was neutral. A safe haven for both of my parents.

Charlotte sat on the bed cross legged, looking at me. I sat on the edge of the bed.

"I almost suggested we get high." I said.

She started laughing. "That would be comical. But, very wrong."

"I know. It was reflexive. It's hard to be around this."

"It's ok." She said. "I'm sorry."

"Charlie's right. It's not your fault for picking up the phone. For calling your mother."

"What's going to happen now?" she asked.

"I don't know." I stood and looked out the window. A heavy snowfall continued. It was accumulating quickly. I could see the drifts were likely several feet. "I feel like we're trapped here." I was almost talking to myself. I shook my head. I turned to her.

"Do you want to leave?"

She shrugged your shoulders. "We're leaving tomorrow night."

"God, Charlotte. I'm sorry." I sighed. "I'm really sorry." I looked at her.

She picked at the unmade bed. Then she looked up at me and smiled. "Let's get high."

I started laughing. "I love it. A plot twist. They won't even notice, I'm sure."

I walked over the mounds of clothes to get to my suitcase. "We're slobs." I said to her. She stretched her legs and played with her engagement ring. I pulled a small bag from my suitcase pocket. I took out a joint and a lighter. She moved over to the window seat and opened the window. When she did, the snow piled on the sill fell into the room. "Wow, it's like a blizzard." She said sticking her hand out the window. When she drew it back in, there was a thin layer of snow.

I lit the joint and took a toke. I handed it to her. She inhaled deeply and held it in her lungs. After she gave it back to me she waved the smoke away. We sat there and smoked the whole thing. After we finished, we remained for a time sitting on the window seat. The window was still open and we didn't realize how much snow was coming in. Our clothes were getting wet.

"Shit." I said. "that was a bad idea. I get so high when I smoke."

She stood and pulled the window shut. She put her arms around me. "Your clothes are all wet. She sat on my lap and kissed me.

After a while I asked, "How long do you think we've been sitting here?"

Her eyes were wet and looked swollen. She looked out the window. "Anywhere from five minutes to two days." The humor in it hit me hard and I started laughing. She did too. "oh shit. I'm so fucking stoned, Charlotte."

She took my hand. "here come lay down for a minute."

I walked over to the bed and lay down. She stretched out next to me, both of us staring up at the ceiling. Losing time and returning. Over and over.

We heard a knock on the door. "Jeffery, darling. We're going to open presents."

I opened my eyes wide. "OK, we'll be there in a minute." I turned to Charlotte and whispered "Holy shit. It's Christmas. I forgot." At that Charlotte started laughing uncontrollably. I couldn't help it. I did too.

"OK mom. We'll be right down. Charlotte wanted to change."

"All right."

Charlotte hit me on the arm and then looked at me like I was crazy. "Why would you say that? Why would I want to change?"

"Your clothes are all wet. From the snow."

"I don't think I can go downstairs." She said. "I'm so stoned. I'm going to lose my mind."

"Listen. Here's the plan. We'll go down and grab one cinnamon roll. I repeat one and some more coffee. All we have to do is sit in the living room and watch everyone opens presents. We've got to be each other's ears and eyes."

"But we have our own ears and eyes."

We started laughing again.

She caught her breath and regained composure. "What about when it's our turn to open a package."

I squinted and examined her. I started to laugh but was able to get it out. "We'll put the cinnamon roll down FIRST. We'll open the package quickly and remain calm." She closed her eyes and I could see her lip trembling, trying not to laugh.

She stood up and walked over to the pile of clothes on the floor. "Oh. I hung it up." She said to herself. She had one more nice outfit left to wear. It was a wool skirt and a cotton billowy shirt. She put on a pair of boots. She moved back and forth as if to music. "I'm ready." She said."

"OK." I started to get up.

"Wait." She said. "Your t shirt is soaking wet from the snow." She leaned down and picked up another from my suitcase. She threw it at me. "You've got to be more careful than that." She said. "Wait. Give me a code if I start acting high around your family."

"Like wh—Ok if I say 'it's really starting to come down out there then—'"

"Come down out there? "She started laughing. "Forget it. It's ok. Never mind."

I pulled the shirt on and walked over to her. "I'm glad we're in this together."

She turned to me, "Oh God. I'm sorry. This is your family. I shouldn't have told us to get high."

I kissed her.

We got through opening presents. My mother remained composed and everyone focused on either the gifts or Frankie. He had to open everyone of my mother and father's presents. That made it easier to stomach when mom opened another gift from dad. Frankie was on her lap, tearing at the paper on the small rectangular box. Once he peeled it off, she hesitated before taking the top off. When she did and she saw it was a string of black pearls she said, "oh pearls." She put the cover on and put it back under the tree. I was holding Charlotte's hand and I felt her squeeze it.

"All right darling." She said to Frankie. "This one is for Uncle Jeffery." She retrieved a package and it was cumbersome for Frankie's little hands but he insisted on carrying it over to me. He stood before me and I grabbed it before it fell. Frankie moved close to me and started pulling at the paper. I let him help me.

"It's from daddy and me," mom said. "here," she said handing Charlotte another smaller box. "This goes with it."

I was so high. It took all my concentration to act sober. I opened the box and saw there was a set of leather journals. They were gorgeous. I opened one and felt the pages. They were beautiful. Charlotte handed me the other box. Inside was an expensive set of two pens."

"They're for your writing." She said.

I stood and walked over to mom and kissed her. She pulled away instinctively and looked at me. I realized she could smell the marijuana. She shook her head subtly. Instead of hugging dad I turned to him. "Thanks dad. They're great."

"Merry Christmas son."

It was Charlotte's turn. My mother handed Charlotte several boxes. The first contained a necklace with a silver locket. Charlotte admired it and smiled at my mother.

"It's from Mr. Lambert and me."

Charlotte took it out of the box and handed it to me. I fastened the clasp. She picked up the held on to the locked and stared at it a moment. "Thank you so much Mrs. Lambert."

"Look inside," my mother said.

When Charlotte opened it. She smiled again, "Oh that's sweet. Look Jeffery." It was a picture of me as a small child and another taken when I was older.

"You can put any picture in it. I just thought—"

"No. I love it." Charlotte said and moved to my mother. She put her arms around her. If my mother smelled marijuana on Charlotte she didn't let on. Mom put her hand on Charlotte's cheek. "I'm so glad you're going to be my daughter-in-law."

"Me too." Charlotte said. Then she walked over to my dad and leaned down and hugged him. "Thank you Mr. Lambert."

"You're welcome sweet heart."

It went on like that for a while. Mom bought everyone expensive and fitting gifts. She had a knack for finding something that would be meaningful to each one of us. Somehow dad's gift from mom was one of the last. I saw mom cringe when Frankie toddled over with the package. It was the size of a shirt box. He held it up in front of her. My dad was watching her closely. He had been the whole afternoon. She let out a breath and looked up at him. "This is for you." She said. "it was probably a mistake." Charlotte squeezed my hand. I was completely sober by then.

They exchanged a glance. "Thank you, Eve. I doubt it was a mistake. You don't make mistakes." He said. Charlotte squeezed my hand again. Mom looked away. I could tell she wanted to leave and didn't want to give him anything. Dad opened it. What made it worse for all of us was that there was some humor in it. It was a pair of Bermuda shorts, sunglasses and two tickets to Cancun Mexico. My father loved taking trips. My mother hated traveling. The present also represented a romantic gesture, going away someplace exotic alone together.

"We don't have to." She said. She stood and reached for the box.

He pulled it away from her reach. "Thank you darling." He said. I saw her turn flush and leave the room. He stood and followed her into the kitchen.

"Jesus Christ. I need a drink." Clara said and walked over to the liquor cabinet.

"I'll take one. "Charlie said. He looked at Peggy. "Peg?"

She shook her head. "I should put the kids down for a nap."

"Jeffery? Charlotte?" I shook my head. Charlotte said "No thanks."

Charlie stood and walked over to the liquor cabinet. "Just go slow, Clara." He said.

"Just mind your own damned business" Clara retorted.

I looked at Charlotte. "I'm sorry."

"I love you." She said. "I'm sorry I made you get high. I think your mom knew."

Mom and dad walked back into the living room. "Kids. I'm going to clean up a bit before dinner." She said. She looked at Charlie and Clara. "You're drinking already?"

Clara shrugged her shoulders. "You're fighting with daddy already?"

My mother rolled her eyes.

"Sorry to state the obvious mom." Clara added.

"Just watch it Clara." Dad cut in.

Peggy had the baby in her arms and Frankie's hand in hers. He was leaning against her dragging his feet. Peggy walked over to mom and kissed her on the cheek. "I love you. Thank you for a beautiful Christmas."

I could see mom's eyes start to water. "I love you too darling."

"I'm going to put the kids down for a nap. Then I'll help you clean up the breakfast dishes."

"All right darling. I'm going to run upstairs and freshen up" Mom started towards the stairs and dad walked over to the liquor cabinet and poured a scotch. I looked at Charlotte. She shrugged. I walked over and fixed us a couple of gin and tonics too.

The rest of the afternoon was pleasant. It was one of the few times, if not the only time, that my siblings and I spent an extended amount of time with our father. Even Charlie lightened up with the influence of alcohol. He and dad talked about the legal system, attorneys and the long-term implications of Charlie's job in the district attorney's office. Charlie was more conservative than the rest of us. He wanted to defend the state not the underdog. He had a charisma about him and I could see that dad was being drawn into his ideas and thoughts. I'd never seen Charlie like that with our father before. Clara was telling Charlotte about San Francisco and they were scheming to plan a trip. Mom and Peggy managed the kitchen and somehow managed the children at the same time. I knew my mother was fond of Peggy. They were alike in so many ways

Dinner was pretty smooth too. Although she'd only had a couple of glasses of wine, my mother had loosened up and seemed to be enjoying us all being together. That was the eye of the storm. The brief time where I believed it could be good with all of us.

Clara was the one who detonated the landmine that had been there in the middle of things all along. We had all been able to avoid it. Maybe it was because Clara had too much to drink. She got sloppy. Maybe it was because she couldn't contain her anger towards my mother and my mother wasn't giving her the satisfaction of an angry response. Whatever it was, everything fell apart. It was early evening. My mother had orchestrated a near perfect Christmas. She'd been up since 4:00 in the morning preparing all the food, cleaning up the dishes, waiting on us all. She purchased and wrapped the perfect gifts for all of us, including dad. She managed to design opportunities for us to have close times together, particularly time with dad.

But, Clara drank too much.

We were all sitting in the parlor around the tree. The baby was asleep in Peggy's arms. Frankie was playing quietly on the floor. My mother was avoiding close proximity to dad, but she was talking with all of us, including him.

Mom said something to the effect of how wonderful it was to have us all together. We hadn't spent a Christmas as a family since before Clara graduated college. Mom was sitting on the floor, her back against the couch. She was holding a glass of wine.

"Why do you think that is mom?" Clara blurted. It was a poison arrow that punctuated the atmosphere.

I saw my mother's expression change. She'd about had it with Clara for the day. "Why do I think what Clara?"

"Why do you think no one wants to be here for Christmas?"

Mom shook her head and looked back at the group but Clara continued.

"You try to act perfect but it's a show because deep down you don't know how to be that kind of woman. Let's face it. Please God before we bring another victim into this family!"

"Stop it Clara!" Mom snapped. "I'm tired of it."

"Hmmm." Was all Clara said at first.

We all watched my mother. She started to resume our conversation but she turned back to Clara, "I think you've had enough to drink."

"Why because I'm not acting the way you want me to? I'm not going along with your script mother?"

Charlie looked at Peggy, "Peggy take the kids back to the room and get them ready for bed please."

"Jesus Charlie," Clara blurted. "You are just like dad the way you boss your wife around. No. You're worse. At least Dad's charming." She swallowed a big gulp of her drink.

I saw my father's expression change. Peggy took Frankie by the hand and led them down the hallway.

Dad turned to Clara. "God damn it Clara. We're tired of your crazy behavior. You haven't acted like a reasonable human being in years. Don't ruin this for everyone."

Clara acted like my mother had called her crazy. "It is pretty convenient for you to treat me like I'm crazy. Isn't it mom? That explains everything. Then you don't have to take responsibility for the things you've done to me. To my life." Clara started to cry but regained composure.

What Clara doing was bad but it wasn't as bad as my mother seemed to take it. We all knew Clara was drunk. She was being foolish. But, for some reason it lit a fuse that set my mother off. The whole day had been tense because of the undercurrents between my father and mother. Mom stood up. She started to walk out. I squeezed Charlotte's hand. Dad and Charlie seemed vigilant, watching the situation. Mom looked like she was trying to contain her anger, but it appeared she couldn't. She turned back around and looked at Clara.

"What I've done to your life? I'm tired of you blaming me for every God dammed thing. Do you understand me?"

"Loud and clear –you're a hypocrite!" It was so unbelievable that Clara would talk to mom like that. Charlotte squeezed my hand. When, I looked at her she had a look of shock.

"A hypocrite? Let's just get it out in the open. I understand you blame me for your mother's death. That's my crime, correct?" Mom raised her voice, "Well I didn't kill her! She killed herself and tried to kill you. Is that what you want to hear? If not for me you wouldn't have had any parents at all! Hypocrite or not! –"

"That's enough!" dad said but my mother wasn't finished.

"Do you think he—" she pointed to my dad. "Do you think he cared enough about you? That he would have taken time off from his women to make Halloween costumes? To plan your birthdays? For Christ sake to sit with you all night while you ran a fever?"

Dad stood up. "Eve get a hold of yourself and stop it right now. What in the hell is wrong with you?"

She ignored him "All I ever did was love you and take care of you. The minute I met you I loved you. There was no difference between my feelings for you and what I felt for Charlie. I've missed you every day God dammed day since you started this."

"You're a revisionist. It doesn't matter how much time passes, mom. It's just a matter of doing the math."
"I WASN'T seeing your father when your mother died. I was trying to get away from him!"

We were all so shocked that we were frozen listening to my mother not knowing where she was going. Even Clara sat stunned.

"God damn it Clara, I was your age when she died. I had my own problems. I had to move away and start a new life."

Dad stood up. "Eve! Don't ruin this for the kids!"

"You're crazy." Clara scoffed.

Mom started to leave the room but her anger had a momentum. She turned back to Clara. "And don't call me crazy. Don't you dare! God damn it! I left your father when Charlie was born. I didn't want to be involved with a married man! But that wasn't good enough. He wanted me to be the whore you've accused me of! But I wouldn't. There. Are you happy to hear it?"

Dad stood walked over to mom, "That's enough." He turned to Clara, "Clara go up to your room. Eve stop it now!" He took mom's arm and tried to pull her out of the room.

"Well good for you!" Clara said, "You're nothing but a liar!"

Mom pulled away and moved even Closer to Clara. I thought she would hit her. I wanted to tell Charlotte to go upstairs, but we were all fixed. Stuck until whatever was going to happen, happened.

"I'm a liar? No I've protected you. For what? You're a terrible daughter. Well you're right. You're not my child. I don't want you to be my child. Have your life back. See how far it gets you!" My mother started crying but she kept up. "I tried to leave and have a respectable life. I tried. But when I said no." My mother pointed her finger at Clara. "your father-- he had me taken away. He punished me for trying to raise my son respectably!"

My father took my mother's arm again "stop it!" He stood in front of her, holding her by both arms to block her from saying anything else.

"Don't touch me! You don't even love me!" she started crying again. She tried to pull away but he was holding her firmly. "You bought another woman diamond earrings for Christmas! You called her this morning!"

"Stop it!" my father yelled at my mother. "What in the hell is wrong with you?!"

Charlie stood up to my father. "Get your hands off her. "Charlie said.

My dad pulled her into the dining room. I heard mom crying. Charlie followed them and I heard him raise his voice. "Let her go now!"

Clara was frozen. I heard my mother run upstairs. She was crying hysterically. I looked at Charlotte. I shook my head. "I don't know what happened." I whispered.

"It's ok." She rubbed my arm.

Charlie came back into the living room. "We're leaving tonight." He said. He left the room and walked down the hallway to tell Peggy. I turned to Charlotte. "I want us to leave too." I said.

She nodded. "OK. What about your mother?"

"I don't know." I said. I shrugged my shoulders.

"Is what she said true?" Charlotte started to cry and put her hands over her eyes.

"I'm sorry. Charlotte. I'm sorry."

She looked up at me. "Did he put her away?"

"I don't know. I've never heard that before."

Charlotte looked distraught. It appeared she had been battered by my family too. She looked down at her hands. Fiddled with her engagement ring. I put my hand on hers. "I'm sorry," I whispered. "It was a time bomb. I should have known. We aren't going to do this again."

"I like them." She said softly and looked at me. "But I feel bad for you. For what it must have been like to live this way."

"Jeff—" Clara tried to say something to us but I cut her off.

"Don't talk to me Clara. I don't want to talk to you again." I turned back to Charlotte. "Can you go up and start packing our things? I'm going to ask Charlie where they're staying and if we can go with them. We'll get a hotel and wait there for our flight tomorrow."

She nodded. "Ok."

Clara started again, "Jeffery--"

"Shut up. God damn it Clara. How can you be so mean to her?" I said. Clara put her her face in her hands and started weeping.

When I walked down the hall to find Charlie I saw dad smoking a cigarette in the kitchen. I stopped. His eyes met mine. I walked into the room. "What happened? Why did mom go crazy like that?" I asked.

He shook his head. "I don't know."

"Why did mom say those things?"

He kept his eyes on me but didn't say anything.

"Are you going up there?" I asked him, "are you going to see if she's all right?"

"Not right now. I know she doesn't want to see me right now."

"Should I go up?"

"No. I'll go up in a minute."

"We're leaving." I said.

Dad nodded.

"I'll say goodbye to her before we leave."

He nodded.

"Was it true?"

"What?"

I let out a breath. "Just like she said?"

"Which part?"

"That you had her sent away."

"yeah." He said. He looked traumatized too.

"Why did she say it tonight? Why did she bring it up tonight?"

"She's having a hard time."

I felt like a child. I felt guilty. "I told her about the earrings and Elaine."

"I know you did." He snuffed out his cigarette. "It's not your fault."

I saw Charlie coming out from the hallway carrying a suitcase. I approached him. "Can we leave with you? You can drive us at a hotel?"

Charlie's eyes met mine. Instantly, I remembered something. It emerged from the murky water. It was the way his eyes stayed fixed on mine. I remembered being in the house with him as children with her screaming from another room, the crashing sounds. Charlie and I had shared a room. He had the same look back then. I felt my body grow cold. It was the first thing I recalled from my early childhood. It was being alone with Charlie staring into his eyes, trying to understand what to do.

"Of course you can. We'll give you a ride." Charlie said. I remembered his valiance as a child and why I'd looked up to him so much. He was brave. "I'm going to load up the car and then go talk to mom." He said.

"Me too."

Once the car was packed Charlie and I walked into mom's room. The lights were out and it was dark. Charlie walked over and turned on one of the table lamps. She was laying in bed, under the covers weeping. I was sure she'd had a nervous breakdown. Charlie sat on the edge of the bed next to her. I stood near him. I felt like the six year old child I had been.

He rubbed her back. "Mom?" She turned to face him. Her mascara was running down her face. "Go get a wet wash cloth," Charlie said to me.

I went into the bathroom and ran a washcloth under the tap and wrung it out. I brought it back. Charlie was talking softly to mom. I handed him the washcloth. "Is it all right if I wipe your make up, under your eyes?" he asked. She nodded but didn't stop crying while he cleaned off her face.

"Mom, what happened?" he whispered. "Why did you get so upset?"

She shook her head. "I'm having a nervous breakdown." She finally whispered.

"No. You're not." He took a deep breath and let it out. "It's dad's fault. You need to leave him. You need to. Peggy and I want you to come live with us in Connecticut. We want you to move in with us. We'll take you with us tonight."

"That's sweet. I'm all right." She swallowed hard. "I feel terrible for the things I said to Clara." She started to cry again, "I ruined your Christmas."

"You didn't." I said. "it was really nice. Charlotte loves you."

"Are you leaving tonight?"

Charlie kept his eyes on her. He nodded. "We are."

"But, there's so much snow." Mom said. "I thought you were staying until tomorrow."

"Will you be all right if we go?"

"Of course," she said.

"Then I'd rather go back tonight."

"Are you leaving too?" She asked me. I was always the neutral one. Her confidant but also not adversarial to dad. That was how it had always played out. I would have never left before. Before Charlotte.

"it's probably better. I don't think I can get out of bed." She started to cry again.

"Mom Peggy is going to call you this week to make arrangements. I don't want you with him any more."

She nodded. "I'll talk to Peggy this week."

He rubbed his chin and then held her hand. "Really. Call her. You know we love you."

Just before we left the house, Charlotte and I said goodbye to Dad. Charlie ushered his family out to the car. Charlie walked up to dad and stared at him. "We are going to see to it that mom moved to Connecticut with Peggy and me."

"Is that so?" dad said. He glared at Charlie.

"You're a Goddamned bastard. You know that?" Charlie was so full of anger towards dad.

"Get out and don't come back." Dad said. "You're not welcome here anymore."

Charlie shook his head. "I've never had any respect for you. You know that. And, I've never been afraid of you."