My dad drank from the beer with a satisfied expression on his face while my mom looked like I had served her lemon juice.
"We should probably eat that casserole while it’s hot," she grumbled and got to her feet. "I'll set the table. Where are your plates?"
"In one of the brown boxes over there," I said and pointed at a stack of boxes leaning against the wall.
"You haven't even unpacked your plates?" she said. "You've been here a week?"
"I haven't gotten to it yet. Besides, the boxes only came two days ago."
"But still…? You certainly…you must have plates. What have you been eating from?" she asked, appalled.
"Pizza boxes, using napkins," I said with a shrug.
"Why, I have never. Why would you do that? You have children, Eva Rae Thomas. They need plates. They need things to be like they used to be. They need stability."
I bit my lip, knowing she wasn't actually talking about plates anymore. This was about something else. I knew she blamed me for Chad leaving us. Of course, she did. Why wouldn't she? She had never approved of me working and having a career.
"Yeah, well, you can't really control everything in life, can you? Sometimes you have to improvise, work with what you've got," I said, then walked to the counter and poured myself a glass of wine.
Chapter 3
Dinner went decent. My mom tried hard not to criticize me too much in front of the kids, which I could tell took quite an effort. Meanwhile, my dad hung out with Alex, and they talked about fire trucks, which was Alex's favorite subject to discuss. During the conversation, Alex got really loud and was almost yelling. My mom sent me a look.
"Alex, sweetie, remember to use your inside voice," I said, then added, "Grandma has a hangover and doesn’t like loud noises."
"What's a hangover, Grandma?" Alex asked while my mom hissed at me.
"Eva Rae Thomas…" she turned and looked at my dad. "Jon, did you hear what she said?"
My dad and I locked eyes, and he struggled not to laugh. I chuckled, then grabbed another piece of pepperoni pizza. My mom gave me a disapproving look, but I ignored her. No one had touched her casserole except for herself. Even my dad had thrown himself at the pizza, and I was just happy that I had ordered the family size, so there was enough for everyone.
Alex grabbed my dad by the hand and pulled him up to his room to show him all his books on fire trucks. I loved seeing the two of them together. It was great for Alex to have a male role model these days, and not many understood him. I had enrolled him in my old elementary school, Theodore Roosevelt Elementary School, as soon as we got here, but almost every day he had come home with notes from the teacher about his bad behavior. He was loud and refused to sit still, she said. It was never a problem before, so I told her it was probably all the new things going on in his life, plus the fact that his dad wasn't with him anymore. But as I said that to his teacher, I realized I actually didn't even know if it had been an issue earlier in his life. Chad and I had drifted apart over the past several years and hadn't talked much about those things. And the last thing I wanted was to call him in Greece and ask. I was determined to do this myself without his help. He was the one who had decided to pick up and leave. I was these children's mother. Of course, I could take care of them, even if it had to be alone.
"He's very loud, isn't he?" my mom said in almost a whisper. "And wild. Keep an eye on him all the time. You heard about that girl who was kidnapped recently, right?"
I had. How could I not? It was everywhere. It was all over the news constantly; they had put up posters downtown, and it was on the lips of everyone I met. A young girl, twelve years old, and a local surf-idol, the new Kelly Slater, if there ever was one, had gone missing from a Girl Scout camp three months ago. They had made several arrests but not found who took her yet, nor had they found her. As every day passed, it became less and less likely they'd find her alive. From my experience, it was very improbable that she would show up alive after so long. Still, the locals kept up their hope. Some even believed her father had taken her since there had been a dispute between the parents during their divorce. But her dad had been questioned, and there had been no sign that he might have taken her. Personally, I thought the local police seemed to have let him off a little easy since I would have gone harder on him, knowing kidnappings were most often done by family members, but it wasn't my case, and I was done with that part of my life.
"You need to keep him home till it's safe to go out," my mom continued. "Till they catch this guy. Especially with that wild nature of his. He might get himself in trouble, you know. He's trouble waiting to happen. I see it in his eyes. He's got that crazy look. I don't see it in other children. Lord knows, I never saw it in mine."
I shrugged. My mom never had boys; how would she know if he was wilder than others?
"He's a boy," I said. "They get wild sometimes. There's nothing wrong with him. He's just been through a lot lately."
"He sure has," she said and gave me another look.
"Okay, just say it, will you?" I said, sensing I had to stop with the wine now before I said something I would regret later on.
But my mom didn't. She never said anything directly to me. It was all between the lines and in her looks. I felt like screaming at her to just speak out. Just be honest.
"Say what?" she asked.
"You blame me for Chad leaving, don't you?" I swallowed the lump that was growing in my throat. "Because, of course, it’s my fault, just like everything else in life. Ever since…that day. Was it also my fault dad got an infected colon, huh?"
She shook her head, then looked away.
I felt tears pressing behind my eyes and couldn't really hold them back anymore. A couple rolled down my cheeks. I felt so helpless, so lost. I had rented this strange house and had no idea if I would be able to afford to live in it. I didn't even know how to buy enough milk for my kids.
I stared at my mother, secretly praying she would stretch out her arms and just hold me. But she didn't. She spotted the tears, then sat there like she was paralyzed and looked at me before she finally rose to her feet.
"It's late. We should probably get home. Your dad needs his rest. Eight hours every night, per doctor’s orders."
I can't even remember the last time you touched me, Mom. Can't you just give me a hug? Can't you just put your arm around me and tell me it'll be all right? That I am going to make it?
I looked after my mom as she walked up to Alex's room to get my dad. Seconds later, they had both left, and I was once again alone with my thoughts, the smell of vegan casserole lingering in my nostrils.
I wiped away my tears and finished my glass of wine, reminding myself I had decided not to feel sorry for myself in this, when Alex climbed into my lap and attacked me with a toy fire truck, making me laugh. I rustled his hair and kissed his forehead with a sniffle.
"We're going to be fine, aren't we?" I asked the child like he understood.
He gave me one of his endearing smiles. "I like it better here, Mom. You're home a lot more, and you don't yell as loud as Dad. Besides, you smell better."