Chapter 13
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
FERN
“ T his was a success, don’t you think, sweetheart?” Mom says, kissing my cheek. “Better than the wedding because this time I helped.”
I try not to flinch, but it’s impossible. She’s never going to forgive me.
Sorry isn’t enough. Lately, she’s making me feel like I’ve been betraying her or pushing her away from our lives—her children’s lives. Neither one is true, but what am I supposed to do?
Her shoulders slump. “I don’t understand where I went wrong.”
I guess I can’t move from here until we hash things out. I should tell her that we still have guests. Some are on the dance floor, others are chatting at their tables, and others are by the garden. We still have an hour. Can this wait?
She’s staring at me, waiting for an explanation or maybe soothing words that tell her she’s the best mother. I have no idea.
“What exactly are we talking about, Mom?”
“Well, Gatsby secretly organized his wedding at the family house ”—she gives me a resentful glance—“with your help, not mine. Aslan got married without telling us… am I such a bad mother that you all keep pushing me away? I don’t understand why you don’t call me when these things are happening, Fern. ”
Oh, we’re back to my ungrateful sons don’t love me anymore and you enable them .
Two days ago, we discovered that Aslan and Keaton have been married for several months. Several. Everyone has been asking them, “What the fuck?”
Aslan claims they wanted to get married immediately. However, they didn’t want to have the ceremony or party until later. Keat’s mother is very sick, and if they waited long enough, our mother would have the time to help them. They tried to compromise and make everyone happy.
Mom will never agree with them. She was excited about organizing the event.I thought telling him that she might never talk to him again was going to be the end of it. We’re not that lucky.
And even though I’m not the one who got married, pregnant, and organized a wedding without her, it’s all my fault. I could argue with her, but I don’t.
“You’re the best mother in the world,” I tell her.
She glances at me and gives me a sad smile. “Your brothers and sister see you more like a mother figure than they do me.”
“That’s not true,” I argue.
She touches her diamond pendant and sighs. “I’m the woman who abandoned them when they needed me the most. I broke when I lost my husband and couldn’t fight for my kids—or with my kids. They treat me as if I were a China doll who was glued back together but is missing too many pieces.”
I want to tell her that she should go back to therapy. Instead, I say, “You’re not, Mom.”
Our dynamic changed a lot during the years she checked out from the world and we had to take charge. I can’t deny that, but I try not to agree with it either. When the triplets or I needed an adult, we called Uncle James or Aunt Ari. Other times, we tried to problem solve among us.
We had to fill those gaps that she couldn’t because she could barely move. The triplets filled Dad’s shoes.I tried to fill Mom’s.
We listened, comforted, and solved most of the problems the little ones had. We learned about first kisses, first times, and… Heathcliff, Caspian, Huxley, and Cory came to us with the joys, the heartbreaks, the odd news.They still do.
Aslan, Lysander, Gatz, and I had to figure out how to do those things that parents seemed to make happen seamlessly. We still seek each other for support because we became a unit during the worst time of our lives. We’re a tight family.
I admit that sometimes, when we have problems, we don’t include our mother until we have solutions. Mom has trouble understanding that the only way we survived was by relying on each other. We adore her, but we’re bonded by a tragedy.
A tragedy she’ll never be able to understand and a bond she can’t break or change.
This is who we are. I wish she could stop resenting me.
Sometimes she takes excessive interest in our lives trying to make up for the years she wasn’t around.
There’s a reason why my brothers call her Helicopter Dawn.
“It feels like I failed them,” she says. “You’re the only one who came to me when your heart was broken. They never do.”
That isn’t exactly true, but I let her think that.“I don’t think guys go to anyone when they have those kinds of issues, Mom. But I might be wrong.”
Okay, once again, I’m lying. It’s an innocent lie. If I tell her that when the boys have issues, they either come to me or one of the triplets…
The triplets solve their issues among them, and they call me to ask for advice. I stay quiet because I don’t want to inflict any more pain. How do I make this easier on her, though? I hate that she’s hurting.
“I wasn’t invited to Maia and Gatsby’s engagement party, and I was the last one to learn that they’re expecting a baby. They told Heathcliff first,” she continues complaining, and I wish someone would whisk me away.
“You were away for the weekend. Gatsby was going to propose, but since he did it in the hospital, he decided to do a small gathering to celebrate. Heath was the first one to learn about the pregnancy, even before Gatsby and Maia. You can’t be upset about that,” I explain for what it feels like the twentieth time.
She gives me an unsatisfied look. I’m saying the wrong things.
“Mom, we love you, but there are times that we can’t keep the information flowing that fast. We can’t wait for you to be around or expect you not to live either.
If you’re out of town, we’ll send you pictures.
It’s okay not to be with us all the time. ”
“I feel like I’m still failing you all,” she says.
“You’re not, Mom. I dare say that you and Dad did such a great job with us that we’re able to survive when you can’t be there. Sometimes giving us the tools to live is a lot better than doing everything for us.”
The smile is back on her lips.
Success.
“I never thought of it that way. I don’t know what I would do without you.” Her voice is calm.
And then, there are times when I feel like the mother in this relationship. It’s not bad, but sometimes it drains me.
I’m about to leave when she mumbles, “He’s cute.”
When I glance to see who she’s talking about, I see Elliot McPhee walking toward us. I’ve seen him only a few times tonight. He seems to know many of the people who came to the gala. Maybe he’s more well-known than he lets us think. I should ask Gatsby about his past.
After all, he ran a background check on him and never told me what he found out.
“Mom, he works for us,” I say, hoping that she won’t try to push me into his arms with the hope that I’ll marry him tomorrow morning.
This is why her sons are always avoiding her. She goes from ignoring them for weeks—while she’s out of town—to nagging them about their life choices.
“He might work for us, but I wouldn’t kick him out of bed.”
“Mom,” I shriek. “What is wrong with you? He’s too young for you.”
She brushes her dress and smiles. “There’s nothing wrong with wanting a man at my age.”
“Yes, but not my… my employee,” I say, instead of saying something like I saw him first . Don’t make this awkward.
“He’s probably in his forties,” she continues.
“I’ve been with guys younger than him. Age is just a number, Fern.
When I married your dad, he was in his late thirties, and I was fresh out of college.
He was really good in bed. If I had listened to my mother, I would’ve missed the best years of my life. ”
TMI, Mom. I didn’t need to know the part about my father being good in bed.
She fixes my hair. “And I wouldn’t have my children. The eight of you are my entire life—even though you don’t think I’m a good mother.”
I take a few calming breaths. Sometimes I don’t understand why I even bother with her.
When Elliot reaches us, Mom smiles at him. “How are you, Mr. McPhee?” The sultry tone doesn’t go unnoticed.
Is she fucking kidding me?
“Mom,” I screech, taking Elliot by the hand and walking toward the dance floor.
Elliot looks at me and smiles. “Did you just save me from your mom?”
“Probably.”
“She’s a lovely woman, I’m sure she didn’t mean any harm.”
Obviously, he doesn’t know my mother—do I even know her?
“Should I dare to ask how you’re doing?” He uses his sexy, smoldering voice that makes my body tremble.
“You could say that it’s been an exciting night.”
He releases my left hand and strokes my cheek lightly. “You look tired. Was this a successful event?”
We haven’t run the numbers yet, but I’ve heard that we met our goal with the silent auction so far. The live auction might bring us a lot more. So I say, “I think it was. We’ll run and publish the final numbers in our next newsletter.”
He puts his arms around me, resting his hands on my lower back. We continue swaying to the rhythm of the music. He’s close. So close that his sandalwood scent is permeating my skin. “Congratulations, you did great, Fern.”
“I’d love to take credit, but this is all Mom.
I give her a budget of how much she can spend, how much I need, and what I’d like to accomplish, and she creates magic.
It’s her year-long project. I just make sure the seating chart is done appropriately.
You don’t want to sit the San Jose Sharks next to the Portland Orcas. ”
He grins. “Obviously.”
“I feel like you’re mocking me.”
“No. I still think it’s a bold move to put those two teams in one room, but who am I to judge your decisions?”
“Could you do better than us?”
“No.”
We’re quiet for a moment, enjoying the music, when he says, “So why did you save me from your mom?”
I shake my head. “I think she drank too much champagne, and I don’t need her to harass my volunteers. I’d like to prevent a lawsuit.”
He grins. “Technically, I’m no longer a volunteer, and I never worked for you.”
I don’t understand why he’s making that clear. It’s easy to throw out a question to fish for information. “So, you want to dance with Mom?”
“No,” he whispers so close to my ear I shiver.
“I’ve been waiting patiently to dance with you all night.” After a few seconds, he says, “A long time.”
I look at his warm eyes, which tonight are on fire. A white-hot fire that threatens to burn me. Our gazes connect. I’m unable to breathe or to think beyond the need for his mouth.
The way he looks at me, it’s like I’m everything he wants and needs from life.
The rainbow after the rain.
The sunset after a long day at work.
The stars that light up the darkest night.
The dream after a long sleepless life.
And I want to be all of those for him, at least for one night. Forget all the reasons we can’t be and just feel what we can have.
Maybe it won’t be more than a few moments, a few songs.
We’ll dance, letting the music and our bodies take over the night.
I let him lead, enjoying his arms and the heat of his body scorching mine. I don’t know when it happens, but at some point, Mom comes to us and says, “Sweetheart, the guests are leaving. You should head home.”
“Did I leave you to do everything?”
She smiles. “It’s okay. This is what I do, remember?” She looks at Elliot. “Do you mind making sure that she gets home safe?”
“I can do that, Mom.”
She pats my shoulder, almost apologetically. “I know. It’s okay to let others take care of you, Fern. You don’t have to be in charge all the time.”
But I do, I just don’t argue with her. Elliot and I head out, stopping to pick up our coats. When he helps me with mine, I say, “I can take a cab to my place. It’s nearby.”
He bends, his lips grazing my ear. “Why don’t you give me a few more hours with you, Fern? I don’t want to let you go. Not just yet. I want you to be mine for the rest of the night.”
The answer is simple, he might want to have me now, but he’ll leave. Everyone leaves. It’s okay, right? Sex shouldn’t be just about love. Everyone keeps telling me that, but I romanticize it. What if I change that just this once?
“Okay, take me for the night.”
I push caution to the wind and join him. It’s one night. One last time before he disappears, along with all the feelings fluttering inside me like butterflies. I’ve never let myself do anything crazy.
How bad can it be?