31. Dottie
31
DOTTIE
The Hudson house is wonderfully loud on regular days. On a holiday? The whole place sings.
Stephen leads me through the door and across the entryway, never letting go of my hand even as he hugs his dad and noogies his sister. Delilah wraps me up in a warm hug and drags me away from him, leading me to the living room where her daughter plays with cars on the carpeted floor as The Grinch steals Christmas on the TV behind her. I glance over my shoulder to see Ivy dragging Stephen up the stairs.
"Dottie Lynn, I'm going to steal Stephen for a little bit. Don't worry, I'll return him in one piece." I give them a thumbs up, and when Ivy turns her head, I shoot Stephen a questioning look. He gives me a half shrug, so I turn my attention back to the little lady on the floor.
"Sadie, this is Dottie Lynn. She's a friend of mine and your Uncle Stephen's!" Delilah says as she sits on the floor with her child. I sit down too, carefully so as to not tug too tight on my dress and cross my knees underneath me.
"Hi Sadie, it's nice to meet you," I say, and the little girl waves.
"Hi Miss Dottie Lynn. You're very pretty. I like the sparkles in your hair," she says in a high-pitched voice. Judging solely by her size and when I remember seeing Delilah's pregnancy announcement on Instagram, I'd say the kid is about five years old.
"Well, that's nice of you to say! Would you like some in your hair?" I shoot a quick glance to Delilah, who nods. Sadie squeals and plops herself right down on my lap. I dig around in my clutch and pull out a few of my extra sparkly barrettes, and then part Sadie's hair. I twist the front section back into a braid and then pin it with two barrettes, one top of the other. I give Sadie my compact, and she checks herself out in the mirror.
"You braided my hair! Uncle Stephen lets me practice my braids in his hair!" She says as she pets her braids, moving the compact around and looking at her hair from all angles.
"No way! He used to let me practice my braids in his hair when we were kids, too!"
"You knew Uncle Stephen when he was a kid?"
"I sure did!"
"Was he little like me?"
"Well, probably at one point. He was a little taller than you when I met him, but he was smaller than he is now. "
"Who was smaller than he is now?" Stephen says as he kneels on the floor next to me. Sadie launches herself at him, jumping into his arms and squishing his cheeks together.
"You Uncle Stephen! You were small!"
He tickles her sides, and Sadie squeals and squirms.
"I was never this small. I was born this way, just ask Nana. I came out tall as a tree and strong as a lumberjack," he says, deepening his voice like a cartoon character.
"Yeah right," Delilah snorts, "He wasn't always this big."
"How do you know, Mama?"
"Because I used to help change his diapers. He had a teeny, little butt and an even teenier little-"
"Okay! That's enough!" Mrs. Hudson calls over from the kitchen island, where she, Mr. Hudson, and Ivy are trying to suppress their laughter. "Sadie, your Uncle Stephen was little once upon a time, and so was your Mama, and that's all you need to know."
"Woah. Dottie Lynn, do you like cars?" Sadie says, changing the subject with the ease and conversational precision that only a child can manage.
"I love them!" I lie, and then Sadie, Delilah and I spend the next hour pushing toy cars across the living room and around the Christmas tree until a tear forms in my stockings.
"Dammit," I mutter under my breath.
"Oh, I've got just the thing for that, Dottie Lynn. Why don't you come into the kitchen with me?" Mrs. Hudson says as she stands from her spot on the couch, holding her hand up to help me off the floor. I hold my breath to suppress the grunt working its way up my throat as I rise. I like to think I'm nice and limber, but an hour on your hands and knees trying to keep up with an energetic tot will take it out of a gal.
In the kitchen, I gesture towards the growing tear at my knee.
"I don't think clear nail polish is going to fix these tights, Mrs. Hudson, so unless you've got some sort of miracle in your back pocket…" I say, and she waves me off. Grabbing two glasses, she pops the cork on a bottle of red and starts to pour.
"Oh honey, those are beyond repair. You might as well throw them in the trash. I just thought you'd like a break from toon town in there for a bit," she hands me a glass and we clink before sipping.
"I appreciate it. Sadie is a lot of fun but-"
"But she's five years old and exhausting. I know, I know. She's just like her mother, that one. Always on the go. Besides, I've been wanting to get some time with you. How are you holding up, dear?" She's got that kind of sickly-sweet southern mom tone that I might think disingenuous if it were coming from anyone else, but Mrs. Hudson doesn't have an apathetic bone in her body. The sound of the television and Sadie playing provides us with a cloak of privacy, even in the open space.
"I'm doing good. It's all weird, being back here, but I'm okay. "
She puts a hand on my forearm and squeezes gently.
"I was afraid it might be hard, being so close to that house you grew up in. Stephen told me not to worry, but the boy couldn't keep a secret from me if he tried. He was worried too."
I shrug.
"I know the way I grew up wasn't what people would consider normal. I know that. I've had a lot of therapy over the years, some real deep diving into my childhood and the impact my mom had on me. Do I love the memories? No. But believe me when I say that I've come to terms with it all. I'm okay now, really."
Tears glisten in Mrs. Hudson's eyes, and I almost can't take it. I take her hand in mine and squeeze.
"I always felt like I didn't do enough. We knew, Henry and me. Not all of it, I'm sure, but we knew she wasn't taking care of you right. There were those few times when child services came. It was us who called. I don't know if you ever knew that. That woman, your mother, she was always on her best behavior when they came around. But Henry and I saw enough. I tried, honey, I swear I did. I tried to make sure you were always welcome here, always knew where you could get a warm meal or a hug. I never said a word when you used to sneak over here at night and sleep in Stephen's bed.
Even when you were teenagers, and I didn't love the idea of the two of you alone in that room at night. I never let on that I knew because I just wanted you to feel safe. It wasn't fair, Dottie Lynn. I know you know that, but I hope you know that that's all I ever wanted. I wanted you to know that you were safe here in my home."
She's crying now and I can't help my own tears from spilling down my cheeks. I squeeze her hand harder, then step in and pull her into a hug. In my heels, I have an inch or two on her, and she rests her face on my shoulder.
"You did everything you could, Mrs. Hudson. You did everything you could. And I always felt safe here. Even more, I felt loved in this home. I was loved, wasn't I?"
"Oh, Dottie Lynn, you are absolutely loved. So, so loved."
We hug and we cry for a moment or two, and then we gather ourselves, wiping our tears and fanning our faces before anyone else notices the emotional breakdown happening a few feet behind them. I pick up my wine glass and take a long, deep sip of the ruby-red Cabernet.
"I didn't realize that you knew I used to sneak over here at night," I say as I feel my cheeks turn as red as the wine in my glass. Mrs. Hudson chuckles.
"Please, honey. I'm sweet, not stupid. I knew all about you two and your nighttime extracurriculars. Why do you think there were always condoms stocked in my son's bathroom? You two are just lucky I'm not a regular mom, I'm a cool mom." She punctuates the last bit with a sassy cock of her hip, Amy Poehler style.
"Well, if it makes you feel any better, we never did anything unsavory in Stephen's room," I lie before downing the rest of my wine. Mrs. Hudson raises an unconvinced eyebrow at me.
"Fine," I concede. "But we never went ‘all the way’ under your roof. That's the God's honest truth." I hold up my fingers, scout's honor style, and Mrs. Hudson laughs and refills my glass.
"Come on, you little menace. It's time to introduce Sadie to the wonder that is Home Alone while we wait for the lasagna to finish up."
I follow her to the living room with my glass of wine and cuddle up on the couch next to Stephen. Not too close – there are children and parents present – but close enough to feel his warmth. He slings his arm around my shoulder, and I lean into him as the McAllister family runs around that big house, getting ready for their trip to Paris.
I look around at the glistening lights, the glow of the electric fireplace, Sadie snuggled in her mom's lap while Ivy plays with her hair absentmindedly. Mr. and Mrs. Hudson holding pinkies as they sit side by side. It's a sort of domestic bliss that warms my heart.
Until Kevin wakes up and realizes he's alone, and I come to my own realization. Then my blood runs cold.
This isn't mine. As much as the Hudson's may have been my family once upon a time, they aren't anymore. I'm not the neglected little girl next door anymore. I'm the grown woman who left, who broke their son’s heart. Who waltzed back in here like the last nine years never happened and allowed them all to welcome me back with open arms, knowing full well that I have no intentions of staying.
None of this is real. I've let myself live in this fantasy world, and now I can't even mourn that this chapter is ending, because it's my choice.
This life, this warmth, this family?
None of this is mine to lose.
But it's a loss I'm already starting to grieve regardless.