70. Alice
Chapter seventy
Alice
P oetry rolled off Henry’s tongue in soothing baritone waves. Calm flowed through the music room and washed up against the shores of the hallway. On her way back from her relaxing shower, fresh and clean in her company-ready clothes, Alice stopped in the doorway. Her stocking feet soundless on the hardwood, she settled her hip against the jamb.
These were the moments they should’ve had all month. Henry, seated on the sofa, held a book in one hand and ruffled Jay’s hair with the other. Their lanky husband curled at his feet, leaning his weight against Henry’s legs and resting his head on Henry’s knee, every inch the faithful companion.
They had an hour yet, maybe two, before Henry’s brother and his family showed up. Mother was using the time to nap, eager to be at her best when they arrived. If Henry’s nephews had even half the energy of Jay’s, the house would be a chaotic whirlwind for the next few days. This moment to breathe was the calm before the storm.
They’d weathered too many storms alone this month. Some that were running under the radar, not yet showing themselves. But Nat had sent her picture proof of a successful mission, and Ollie had sent a text late last night, well after Alice had gone to bed: Talked to Mom. You didn’t make things worse. Promise.
Which was frustratingly cryptic. But Ollie was working the holiday. Catching her in a free moment today to make her elaborate was a nonstarter.
So Alice would just have to sit her ass down and chill with her husbands. Not a bad way to kick off Christmas Eve.
Henry’s voice faded; he’d reached the end of something lovely about carrying Jay’s heart with him. Bending forward, he kissed the top of Jay’s head, and as he rose, he tipped his chin and eyed her. “Will you join us, dearest?”
Jay, rolling his neck, stretched his arm out in love-drunk invitation. “Saved you a seat.” He patted the sofa cushion beside their husband. “Henry’s warming up his voice for tonight.”
“Something special tonight?” She sauntered toward them, her hips swaying of their own accord, her men a hypnotic vision she might sink into.
“Tradition,” Henry intoned, his mouth quirked and his bright eyes yet watching her. “Every Christmas Eve, we—”
Her pocket chimed, growing louder and more insistent as she yanked her phone free. “Shit, sorry, I don’t know who’d—”
Mom.
She swallowed hard and waved the phone in suddenly shaking fingers. “It’s my mom. I need to, I want to know—”
Henry joined Jay in reaching for her. “Come, sit, sweet girl.”
She couldn’t. Not yet. Her heart guarded the hurt too close, the fear tighter still, and their loving faces might break her. “I’ll find you after.”
Her thumb swiped Accept, and false cheer vibrated through her lips. “Hey, Mom, how are you?” Slipping out into the hall, she hunted for a private space to hear whatever she’d unleashed with her visit. “Got the little tree lit?”
“I do, for now.” Mom’s voice wavered.
“For now?” For fuck’s sake, it was a three-foot tree on the damn dining table no one ate at, in a room Dad barely entered. If he made her take it down on fucking Christmas Eve—
“I hauled the full-size one up from the basement this morning. Forgot how heavy that sucker is.” Not fear. Excitement. That was the cause of the trembling, Mom tumbling into word after word like a string of somersaults. “The ornaments, too. Dropped the whole mess right alongside the TV and yanked the plug out of the wall so he’d listen to something other than that chatterbox for once.”
“You did?” Alice groped for the wall and slid down on her butt in the room with all the plants, vibrant and green despite the snowy yard beyond the tall windows. Maybe she was hallucinating the entire conversation. “What, uh, what happened?”
“Oh, a shouting match the neighbors likely heard, and a fair bit of sulking, and more than a fair bit of tears.” Mom’s laugh held the fragile edge of those tears. She took a cleansing breath Alice felt in her own chest, the kind she’d taken sitting on a freezing roadside when she’d decided she and Jay were going to Maine, full stop. Mom’s sigh curled into a warm hum. “But the tree is up. Your dad is untangling the lights for me. I told him I needed some fresh air.”
“Out on the patio?” The yard sprawled out from that square of concrete, home base for practically every game of tag she and Ollie had ever played.
“Sure am. I’ll have to see if I can dig out the grill in time for supper.”
“You sound…” Steaks and baked potatoes on the grill for Christmas. This was a time warp. Mom was calling her from the past, and physics had a perfectly normal explanation for how it was happening. “Different today.”
Not worse. Maybe Ollie was right.
“I feel different. I hadn’t realized…” A quiet sniffle filled the gap, and then muttering, “Oh, I know I have tissues in one of these pockets. Just a second. Here we go.” After some rustling, Mom’s voice came back clearer. “He shouldn’t have said those things to you, baby. I don’t even hear them anymore, you know? The grumbling is background noise. Normal.”
Head back against the wall, Alice swallowed past the tightness in her throat. “It’s not normal, Mom.”
“No.” Barely a whisper over the wind. “No, it’s not.” Mom firmed her voice, loud enough to silence the noise. “I didn’t notice it happening. There was always so much to do, so many pieces to keep moving. You walk so far down a path, and then you look up and you don’t know where you are or how you got there, but suddenly you know it’s not where you’re supposed to be.”
“Because every step seemed necessary at the time.” Like Henry going to Maine by himself. She and Jay had to work; Henry would go to Maine. But what was normal and acceptable the first night was unbearable by the end. She’d taken two weeks to wake up. Mom was coming out of a sixteen-year fog. “Are you okay, Mom?”
“I think so?” The sniffly laughter lasted longer, ending only with a big breath. “I don’t know if I remember what okay is, honey. I used to. I wasn’t always the peacemaker, the pacifier. I used to know what I wanted. I used to be someone else. Someone more like you.”
The warmth of Mom’s admiration settled uncomfortably in Alice’s chest, an accolade she didn’t deserve, had no place for. I’m nothing special , she almost answered. But footsteps sounded on the tile, and real warmth settled on either side of her, shoulder to shoulder, and Henry grasped her free hand and brought it to his lips. His soft kiss had her blinking back tears.
“I remember that you,” she said instead. “When you didn’t have so many worries weighing you down.”
“Oh God, baby.” A low sob dropped between them. “I’m glad you remember, because I didn’t. And I heard you—I heard you—standing up for me—” Sobs garbled Mom’s words, created hitching pauses.
Sympathy sobs shook in Alice’s chest, and Jay slipped between her and the wall, wrapping his arms around her and settling her back against him. “Gotcha,” he murmured, a whisper against her hair.
“You reminded me—” Mom steadied her voice. Maybe she’d wrapped herself in a hug too, the crackling sound her winter coat scratching against itself. “You reminded me that I deserve more. That we deserve more as a family. I stopped asking; I let it go for too long.”
“It’s not your fault.” The answer jumped to her lips, ready-made and often deployed. She squeezed Henry’s hand, and he rubbed his thumb across her knuckles, slow and steady, tracing the outline of her wedding band. “Dad has to be responsible for his behavior, too. He doesn’t get a free pass.”
Only he had, for years and years. Was he having a shitty day and taking it out on everyone else? No problem: He could present one excuse-my-bad-behavior card inscribed with a life-changing medical condition. Repeat as needed, until living with him almost hurt more than wishing he’d died.
“No, he doesn’t. Not anymore.” That determined edge hadn’t been in Mom’s voice for years. Something had cracked in her, split open the but what can you do resignation. “It’s hard, Allie. It’s hard to watch someone you love be in pain every day and not be able to fix it. So you let things go. You make excuses. But after a while, that’s just…”
As reliable as the sun coming up in the morning. “The new normal. What’s expected.”
“Yes. But we’re past that now.” Mom drew a breath like a warrior preparing for battle. “Your dad’s going to listen to me. He’s going to get help for his addiction if I have to tie him to that damn recliner.”
She should’ve sent restraints for Christmas. Mom was talking tough, but whether she could see it through, that was a whole other question. Alice pressed her forehead into Jay’s chin and closed her eyes. “I don’t remember you ever calling it an addiction before.”
Seconds ticked by with nothing but the wind on the line. “I felt like naming it would make it real. But it’s already real. It’s a monster that has swallowed all the good he’s ever done, robbed you girls of your father—”
“And you, Mom. It’s robbed you, too.” She sagged into Jay, his arms a safety belt. She could say the true things here. He would hold her until she told him to stop or the sun burned out.
“And me.” Mom cleared her throat. “I talked to your sister for a long time last night. She says they’ve made lots of advances. If I can get your dad through a detox program, one of those step-down drugs that blocks the high, we can try again. Get a baseline for the pain, pinpoint the source, maybe even have him re-evaluated for a new surgical solution.”
“He’s on board with that?” The first year had been a blur of unsuccessful surgeries. Mechanically successful, but none of them stopped the constant pain. They just drained Dad’s hope until he refused to consider anything but the pills.
“He’s agreed to try.”
That must’ve been some shouting match. “I hope it works this time.”
“I know it’s hard to believe—”
She hadn’t hidden her doubt nearly well enough to fool Mom.
“—but you didn’t see him after you left, baby. He doesn’t want to be the way he is. He doesn’t want to hurt you. He’s so angry at everything. And at himself most of all. You being here, calling him on it—” Short, sharp breaths covered the wobble. “You woke something up in both of us, Allie. We’ve been sleepwalking through this nightmare, and you shouted us awake.”
If that was true, she could’ve done it sooner. Ten years of silence, all that wasted time, trying to protect herself by fencing off “home” as a place she’d never go again.
Alice pulled her knees to her chest. Jay followed her, keeping her safe and surrounded. Her fingers dug into Henry’s solid forearm, and he gripped her in return, their arms locked. Resting against Jay, she met Henry’s green eyes bright and sheltering, rich with all the wisdom they’d gained together and apart. A shudder rippled out from her stomach. “I’m sorry I gave up. I’m sorry I ran away and left you.”
“Oh, Allie, my baby girl. Don’t you ever think that. I am so proud of you, honey.”
Mom’s voice rang out from the phone speaker. Jay pressed his face to the back of Alice’s head and nodded. Henry nodded too, his gaze on hers always. “Exceptionally proud,” he murmured.
“You did all the things I couldn’t.” Fierceness had taken hold of Mom, her voice crisp as any scolding but filled with praise. “You gave you and your sister a better life. I am amazed by how far you've gone. Amazed, do you hear me? You are the star that gives me hope, Allie. And seeing you—how strong you are, how determined and successful and happy—baby, I want to make you proud of your mom. I don’t want Thursday to be the last visit you ever make to this house.”
“I don’t want that either.” She could hardly choke out the words for the shock. Mom was proud of her. Not angry with her for leaving. Not bitter and resentful, not faking cheerfulness because that’s what brought in the tips. All these years, she’d been afraid to ask, because she was damn sure of the answer. And she’d been so very wrong. “I want us to be a family.”
“You have never, not for one minute, stopped being my daughter. Or your father’s, for all the idiocy that comes out of his mouth these days. You made me a mom, and I will always be your mom. Things need to change here, I know that. I don’t want to be the mom you have to hide from your new husband. Husbands? Your sister says you have two—”
Holy shit, what had Ollie done—
“—and I don’t really understand how, but if they make you happy, then I’m happy for you, baby.”
If Alice’s fingers hadn’t been clenched so tightly, she would’ve dropped the phone. “You—” Even Henry’s eyes had widened; his mouth hung slightly open. Mom had no idea of the feat she’d just accomplished. Alice laughed, and the tension whooshed out of her in a woozy-headed rush. “You are?”
“Of course I am. I want the best for you, Allie. You were always adventurous. So curious. No wonder it takes two good men to keep up with my girl.”
The muffled snort in her hair was Jay. Henry contented himself with a smirk and an agreeable eyebrow lift.
“Lord knows I couldn’t keep you contained. When you were a toddler, I’d turn my back for half a second and you’d be climbing up the cabinets onto the counter. Your dad built that jungle gym for you girls, do you remember? And you stayed out all day until you mastered those bars. Blisters on your hands and the biggest smile on your face.”
“I remember.” The happy times floated up, close enough for her to grab them like a fistful of birthday balloons. The bristly outer shell, the one she’d built to survive, to get her and Ollie through the not-normal normal—she’d have to let the last of that go. Scrunching into Jay’s hold, she laid a hand over Henry’s heart. He covered it with his own, the platinum promise of forever right in front of her. The sturdy thumping in his chest gave her the courage to try again. If Mom and Dad broke her heart this time too, Henry and Jay would help her fit every piece back together. “You know what else I remember?”
“What, baby?”
“The year Ollie climbed out of her highchair onto the table and started eating the pumpkin pie with her fingers.” Christmas dinner hadn’t even been on the table yet; the raw steaks waited on the counter for Dad to take them outside.
“Fourteen months old and exactly like her big sister—fearless. I was terrified she would fall and crack her skull.”
“So you scooped her up, and you were messing with the high chair—”
“She shouldn’t have been able to loosen that strap—”
“And Dad’s walking over to the silverware drawer, calm as can be, and he pulls out three spoons, and he trades you two and takes Ollie. Pulls the chairs all around to one side and sits down with her on his lap, and he says…”
She held her breath, waiting, and joined in only when Mom laughed and began, in Dad’s lower register: “Best start in before munchkin and I eat this whole mess of pie.”
Rich laughter surrounded her, in her ears and over the phone. “Hey, Mom, my husbands walked into the room in time for the punchline. Do you want to meet them?”
“I would love to, honey.”
She started the introductions, basking in the glow on Henry and Jay’s faces. Getting Dad to shake his addiction wouldn’t be as easy as one show of backbone from Mom. But it was a start. And it was worth it. Some days would be frustrating and difficult and complicated and make her cry. But some days there’d be pie.