Chapter 21
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
ALLIE
Both of my parents’ cars are in the driveway when I pull up to their house.
While I’m relieved to finally tell them I no longer live there, I’m scared about bringing up the matter of their suggestive hobby.
Why in God’s name couldn’t they have just kept that part of their relationship to themselves?
Why couldn’t they have taken up couples knitting or ping pong even?
The front door is locked, so I put my key in and open it. I nearly choke in surprise when I walk in to find my parents kissing each other with intent. This goes on for a long minute before they realize they have an audience.
My mom steps out of my dad’s arms and asks, “Allie, what are you doing here?”
“I live here, remember?” While that’s not really true, they don’t know that so shouldn’t they be acting a little more discreet?
“I thought you lived above Rosemary’s,” my dad says.
“How do you know that?”
“Mrs. Hocklemeyer told your mom.” This is said like it’s obvious Mrs. Hocklemeyer would know. Not that I know who she even is.
“How does Mrs. Hocklemeyer know where I live?”
“Her son delivered your new mattress to your apartment,” my mom says. Her demeanor suddenly shifts to anger. “When were you planning on telling us?”
“Two nights ago, when you stood me up for dinner,” I hiss.
“Oh, that.” A touch of something resembling guilt fills her tone. “Your dad and I forgot we had a previous engagement.”
“You forgot that you were going to take your clothes off and have pictures taken?” I’m practically yelling at them, which is not how I saw our conversation going.
I thought we’d sit down, and I’d tell them I moved out.
I expected some tears and worry. When I had them where I wanted them—full of contrition—I was going to drop the bomb that I knew about their secret hobby.
Instead of being shocked that I know what they’re up to, my mom asks, “How did you find out?”
“There’s a picture of you both on Main Street.” I take turns death glaring them.
Instead of feeling shame like I expected, my mom claps her hands and practically jumps up and down. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”
I forge past them and plop down on the couch before saying, “It’s mortifying!”
“Don’t be a prude, honey.” This from my mom who is standing in front of me looking awfully proud of herself.
“Aren’t you embarrassed to have the whole town see you like that?” I demand heatedly.
“Your mother is a stunning woman, Allie,” my dad says. “I’m proud of her.”
My head swivels so quickly in his direction I almost give myself whiplash. “She is very pretty,” I agree, “but how is it that you want the world to see you like … like … a pair of geriatric lovers?!” I don’t mean to sound quite so accusatory, but that’s exactly how I feel.
“First of all, Allison,” my mother says. “We are not geriatric. We are middle-aged and we both look darn good.”
“Why not just take a nice headshot then?” I want to know. “Taking your clothes off and you know …” I wave my hands through the air for effect. Unable to find the words to finish my sentence, I declare, “It’s indecent!”
“We’re married,” my dad says.
“What if I had done something like that when I was married?” I want to know. “Would you have supported that?”
“With Brett?” My mom looks like she just smelled milk that had gone bad a month prior.
“Brett was the man I married, so yes, with Brett.”
“I can’t see Brett ever wanting to have a picture like that taken,” my dad announces. “He was always, too, too …”
“Stuffy,” my mom interjects.
“I always thought you two were stuffy!” I declare heatedly. “You never gave any indication you were exhibitionists.”
My mom walks over and sits on the couch next to me. She reaches out and takes one of my hands in her own before saying, “We never even considered doing anything like this before Finley came to town.”
I’m not seeing the connection, so I ask, “And then what? You changed personalities and suddenly had a mad urge to strip down for the camera?”
My dad sits on his wing-backed chair and kicks his feet up onto the coffee table. “We won a photoshoot at the country club.” He explains, “It was a door prize at the Secret Santa fundraiser.”
“We weren’t even going to do it at first,” my mom says. “But then we thought we could get a nice picture out of it for our Christmas card.”
Icy cold fingers of dread crawl up my neck toward my brain. “Please tell me you’ve never sent one of those pictures in your Christmas card.”
“No,” my mom says.
“Not yet …” my dad teases while shrugging his eyebrows. At least I hope he’s teasing.
My mom continues, “Finley was just so charming and sweet that we put ourselves in her hands. And then, well, we sort of became addicted to seeing the beautiful images she took of us.”
“How many times have you done this?” I ask like I’m grilling them about a cocaine habit.
My mom purses her lips before tipping her head back. She looks like she’s searching for a spot of dirt on the ceiling. “Fourteen? Fifteen?”
“I think it’s more like seventeen,” my dad interjects.
I cannot disguise my shock. “You’re going to go broke if you keep this up!”
“We are doing just fine financially,” my mom says. “We invested in bitcoin when it was only a thousand dollars. Your friend Lorelai’s parents talked us into it,” she adds as an afterthought.
“I’m glad for you,” I tell her, while making a mental note to circle back around to find out how loaded they are. But for now, I tell them, “I’m embarrassed that people have seen pictures of you like that.”
Trying to defend her actions, my mom says, “We’ve only showed a couple people.”
“Before now, maybe.” I remind her, “The whole town is currently looking.”
My dad smiles cockily. “We’re somewhat of celebrities. I took your mother to lunch and at least twenty people stopped us to compliment us on our photo.”
“Twenty people?!” I gasp.
“They say that for every person who says something there are a hundred more who want to.” My mom seems positively delighted by this.
“Who says this?” I want to know.
She flashes a pair of jazz hands. “I don’t know, marketers, people in the know. Who cares who says it, your dad and I are famous!”
If you told me aliens abducted my parents and sucked out their souls before replacing them with these insane people, I wouldn’t fight you on it.
“Now,” my dad is taking over. “Tell us about your new apartment and job. We can’t wait to hear how you’re doing.”
I’m not sure I’m ready to let them off the hook quite yet, but I do want to tell them about my new life. I finally say, “It’s a super cute apartment and I love being there.”
“Does that mean you’re staying in Elk Lake?” Why does my mom always sound so disappointed when the topic of me living here comes up?
“For now,” I tell her. “And before you can tell me that you don’t think I should be a teacher, you should know that I’m loving it. I’m also coaching the girls’ basketball team.” I glare at her defiantly.
“I’ve been thinking about your teaching,” she says. “Maybe it isn’t a horrible job for you.”
Talk about a lack of enthusiasm. “Thank you?”
“As a teacher, you have your summers off as well as all holidays. When you get married again and finally have a family, that will be nice for you.”
Here we go with marriage and babies again.
If it wasn’t something I had once wanted so badly, I probably wouldn’t be feeling so defensive.
But I was on the verge of having all of my dreams come true and then I lost everything.
“I may never have babies, and quite honestly I’m not sure I’ll ever get married again, either. ”
“Whatever you decide, Allie,” my dad says, “we love you and support you.” He turns his attention to my mom. “Don’t we, Margaret?”
My mom looks uncertain. “Well … I mean … of course we love you.”
“But you will only support me if I get married and have a family?” I never realized there were so many conditions on my mother’s acceptance. It’s hurtful.
“I don’t want to fight with you anymore, honey,” my mom says. “I love you and I want the best for you.”
“And you know what that is, huh? You with your penchant for exhibitionism!”
My dad stands up and interjects, “I think we all need to mind our own business and live and let live.” He turns to my mom. “Margaret, that means you need to let our daughter live her own life and make her own choices.”
My mom’s mouth opens and closes, opens and closes like she’s one of those mounted singing fish that hangs on a wall and sings Christmas carols. I’m sure she’s about to challenge him, but he adds, “Whatever those choices may be.”
Then he looks at me. “Allie, your mom and I are grown adults. We get to make our own decisions, too.”
I want to barf, but I also want to be left alone, so I agree. “Fine. You guys take off your clothes for the world to see. I won’t give you any more trouble.” I suddenly feel the need to give as good as I’m getting so I add, “I might even do the same.”
I can tell my mom is chomping at the bit to say something now, but she knows she can’t. Instead, she asks, “Do you want to stay for supper tonight?” The only reason I’m tempted to accept her invitation is because I know she doesn’t want me to.
“No, thank you. I have some boxes to unpack.” Standing up, I walk to the front door and out of it without saying another word.
My parents have had it easy with me. I’ve always done exactly what they expected me to do, never once giving them cause for concern.
It isn’t my fault that Brett left me and turned my world upside down.
But now that I finally have my life back, I’m going to be the only one making decisions for it.
And who knows? Maybe I’m ready to make up for lost time and finally cause a little trouble.