Chapter 3
Chapter Three
Avery
I wasn’t surprised when the phone rang. I glanced at the screen and sighed. “Hi, Mom.”
“How are you?” My mother called me, just like clockwork. Eleven o’clock every Thursday.
“I’m good, Mom. How are you and Dad?”
“We’re fine. Are you coming home for Christmas? You know your father, Avery. He wants to see you more than we currently do. I wouldn’t mind more visits either.”
Ah, the guilt trip. It arrived quicker than I expected, but just like snow in the mountains, it always came around the holidays.
“Mom, I’m fine. You and Dad know I love you. I know what you went through when I was sick.. I gave up all my dreams because I was too fucking sick. I remember all of it. You never let me forget any of it.”
“Don’t talk to your mother like that. She’s so glad you’re alive. You are her son. Don’t be an asshole.” The voice in my head surprised me. It almost sounded compassionate.
“I’m sorry, Mom. I didn’t mean for my words to come out like that. I know you and Dad love me. I love you, too. I’ll be home in a few days, I promise. Have you decorated the tree yet?”
“You know we wait for you to come home, son.” We talked for a few more minutes before we hung up.
Brooke walked into my office with a grin. “I assume that was your mother?”
I rolled my eyes. “Are you and Kyle going to Chicago for the holidays?”
She grinned. “He proposed, Avery.”
Brooke stuck out her left hand to show me a diamond ring, and I stood to hug her. It was about time Kyle got some sense and gave her the ring I helped him pick out during our lunch hour on Halloween afternoon.
“That’s beautiful. Will I be the bridesmaid for you or the best man for Kyle?”
Brooke laughed. “Maybe we’ll share you? When are you leaving to go home?”
I shrugged. “Tomorrow. You know I can’t get out of it, but I plan to come back before New Year’s Eve.”
Brooke held out her keys. “Take my car, Avery. Don’t rent one. You don’t need to spend the money.”
I laughed. “I’m not rolling in money, but I’m not poor, Brooke. I can afford to rent a car. Don’t worry about me.”
She laughed. “Just take the fucking car, Avery. Do you want to go with us on New Year’s Eve?”
“That’s the goal. Now, can we celebrate your engagement? I’ve had tonight’s reservation at Del Frisco’s for three weeks.”
Brooke’s mouth dropped open. “You knew! Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Aw, now, that wouldn’t be keeping it a surprise, would it?
Who do you think helped Kyle pick out the ring?
Who gave him the fucking pep talk that he needed so he’d propose before someone else—including me—scooped you up?
I wouldn’t be too opposed to a lavender marriage if you let me go out and get laid every now and then. ”
I’d helped Kyle plan the proposal. He’d danced around whether it was the right time to do it because they were in their early twenties, but I’d reminded him they didn’t need to get married in a month.
When it came down to it, Kyle had found his balls and stepped up. I was proud of him, and I could see Brooke was beyond thrilled.
“Fine, I’ll use your car. Does it need gas?” Usually when Brooke volunteered her car, it needed gas.
She stuck out her tongue, tossed me the keys, and laughed as she walked away. We’d need to discuss living arrangements after the new year. No way was I living with them now that they were getting married.
When I finished up for the day, I hugged both of them goodbye and went home to pack my things. I sent my father a text.
I’m leaving now. I should be home in a few hours, depending on traffic. Can we get pizza from Goodies? ILY
My childhood home was in McLean, VA. While it was only about forty-eight miles, the sheer volume of cars and trucks on the highway could make the trip take more than two hours. I hoped to hell that wasn’t the case since I was leaving at an odd time of day.
I packed a bag for the week, grabbed the few presents I had for Mom and Dad, and after the car was packed, I wrote a note for Brooke and Kyle.
Dear Betrothed,
I want you guys to have a wonderful holiday. I should be back on the twenty-ninth. Please have all your clothes on when I return. I don’t need to see naughty bits. They’ll scar me for life—especially the girlie ones.
I love you both, and I’m happy for you. Can’t wait to give you my two cents on your wedding plans.
Love,
Aves
I grabbed a few cans of fizzy water and a cereal bar for the road, and I went down to the garage. Once I pulled out, I found the streets were easily navigated, so I went along my merry way, Christmas music blasting on the radio.
I arrived an hour later than anticipated due to holiday traffic. Everybody and their brother had the same idea—let’s leave work early and get a jump on holiday travel.
When I pulled into my parents’ driveway, Dad was busy sweeping the light dusting of snow from the sidewalk. My parents always had a cocktail party on December 23, and seeing all the lights and decorations in the yard and on the front porch, I could tell this year was no exception.
I parked in front of the storage shed to the left of the attached garage and got out of the car, gathering my suitcase and the large bag with their gifts.
“Let me get that.” Dad stepped closer and took my suitcase.
“Merry Christmas, Dad. I’ve got it.” Obviously, the usual kid glove treatment was the order of the day.
“How was the drive?”
“Some traffic, but pretty smooth.”
“We lucked out. The snow is staying mostly north. We were just on the tail edge of this round, but tomorrow and Christmas Day we’re supposed to get dumped on. Glad you came early.”
Dad ushered me onto the front porch where we both removed our shoes to carry inside. I was sure the caterers would be along any minute, and Mom would have a fit if we walked in with dirty shoes.
“I see you’re gearing up for the party tonight.” I pointed to the chafing dishes and champagne flutes spread out on the counters and breakfast table.
Dad barked a laugh. "Yeah, it's not anything you haven’t survived before. Speaking of...how are you feeling? You look good, son.”
I took off my coat and slid it around the back of a chair before hugging my dad. “I’m great, Dad. I found a new gym, and I work out four times a week.”
Of course, he knew nothing about my romantic pursuits of late. Neither did Mom. I could imagine her telling me that sex might kill me, and I couldn’t go there with her.
“Uh, did Mom tell you anything about some of our guests?” Dad walked over to the refrigerator and pulled out a bottle of cranberry juice that I was sure would get him yelled at.
Mom made a non-alcoholic punch for guests who chose not to imbibe. I’d only tasted it once. Getting through the party without alcohol was a no-go for me.
“No. Not your usual country club crowd?” Yeah, my parents were the WASP-iest of WASPs.
“Yeah, they’ll be here, but she’s invited a friend of hers from her PFLAG—and her son.” Dad’s expression was one of pity, so I knew it wasn’t going to be good.
“Why?”
“Why what?” I turned to see Mom rushing into the kitchen with linens.
“Why did you invite your friend from PFLAG and her son?”
“Her name is Katrina Brownstein, and her son’s name is Simon.
They’re new to the area, and I thought it would be nice to invite them to a party so they could get to know people in the neighborhood.
They moved here from Chicago after Simon graduated from college.
He’s a year younger than you, and he’s an accountant.
He’ll be sitting for his CPA certification in March.
He’s got a job in DC with one of the nationwide firms.”
“Aw, your mother found you a nice Jewish accountant.” Great. The snarky voice was back.
“Mom, I’m perfectly capable of finding someone to date, thanks.” It came out a lot snarkier than intended.
“Date? Who said anything about dating? I just wanted them to feel welcome. I invited her, and she asked if she could bring Simon. It’s not a setup.”
“That smirk says otherwise,” the voice said.
Yeah, that was no shit. My mom would never be a successful poker player.
I sighed. “I’m going to put my stuff upstairs. I’ll be back to help.”
Grabbing my suitcase, I went upstairs to my old room, seeing it was still a shrine to the fact I lived. Had I died, it probably would have been bricked up with all this shit inside.
I put my stuff away and changed into sweats, a long-sleeved T-shirt, and a pair of thick socks I found in my old dresser.
Mom was mid-menopause, and those hot flashes were no joke.
I nearly froze my ass off last Christmas, and Dad always wore a Mister Rogers sweater around the house, summer and winter.
“Okay, where do you need me?” I entered the kitchen to see Mom hissing at Dad before he glanced in my direction, then they both clammed up.
“What?”
“I was just telling your father that an hour’s drive isn’t that far if you and Simon hit it off. I know there’re a lot of clubs and bathhouses—”
“Mom! What do you know about bathhouses?”
“I know enough, and I pray you use protection when you’re with an intimate partner.”
“Wow! What a fun conversation. You don’t go to bathhouses. Maybe you should try it?” Jesus H, what happened to my internal dialogue?
There was nothing wrong with bathhouses, but I found random encounters only left me feeling empty. I’d surfed the apps in college and had my share of fun, but it was time to take my job seriously, especially if I wanted a future—and a car bigger than a damn roller skate like Brooke’s.
Simon would have to be awfully spectacular for me to commit to driving to Virginia for dates. I prayed he felt the same way about me.