Chapter 25 Penny
Penny
The moment Matt’s lips touch mine, my entire body responds.
We’re no longer in a crowded room where my anxiety about seeing my parents is through the roof.
We’re in our own little world instead, where there is only the warmth of his breath, the softness of his skin, and the feeling of calm that overtakes me whenever he’s around me lately.
This kiss is different from the one we shared during our ridiculous encounter in Santa’s Village.
This kiss feels intimate.
It feels real and true and–
“Well, this must be the boyfriend.”
My mother’s voice snaps me out of the beautiful spell I was under.
“Mom, hi.” I pull back from Matt and turn to face her.
Matt places a warm hand on the small of my back, like he knows I need the support.
“I never pegged you for a public display of affection kind of girl,” she says haughtily.
Matt chuckles. “In our defense, the Missile Ho made us do it.”
“I beg your pardon?” She looks Matt up and down.
He points at the decoration hanging above us.
“The Missile Ho! It’s a creative pronunciation of a holiday classic brought to us by your adorable granddaughter.
” He crouches down and lifts his hand to Maya for a high five.
“It’s nice to meet you, Maya. I’m Matt. Whoa!
” He reacts when my niece smacks his hand.
“You are strong! Just like your Aunt Penny, huh?”
Maya’s eyes twinkle with delight at being compared to me.
I give her a wink and think again of how happy I am that I’ll be spending more time with her soon.
Matt rises and gives his full attention to my mother. “It’s a pleasure to officially meet you, Eileen. Thank you for having me. Your home is beautiful.”
She’s smiling, but as usual, her smile doesn’t look happy. More like she’s biting down on something sour. “Well, we’re so glad you both could make it.”
Is she?
It’s hard to tell.
“Hello, Tinkerbell.” My dad sidles up beside my mother.
My dad started calling me Tinkerbell when I was three years old, and somehow it stuck.
All these years later, it hits me how it’s such a sweet name coming from this otherwise cold man.
Neither of my parents approaches me for a hug. I don’t expect them to, but when Matt’s gaze darts between us, no doubt waiting to witness some exchange of affection—we are a family after all—I see the whole situation through his eyes and realize how sad and strange it all is.
On the surface, my family seems fine. The parties, the smiles, the nicknames… But that’s just it. Everything stays on the surface. It doesn’t go any deeper than that. And when it does? It’s not exactly pleasant.
Matt is such a naturally kind and openly affectionate person. Having him here with me, observing my family’s dysfunction in real time, makes it all seem sadder somehow.
But maybe there’s still hope we can turn it around.
“Hi, Dad,” I say, my eyes unexpectedly filling with tears.
I take a risk and dive into his arms, hugging him for the first time in years.
“Oof,” my dad says, like I hurt him. He accepts the hug—sort of—but his arms wrap around me stiffly, and he pats my back way too hard.
“Penny,” my mother admonishes as she looks around. “Have some decorum, will you?”
When my dad places his hands on my shoulders and gently pushes me away from him, I regret attempting the hug in the first place.
I see the compassion in Matt’s eyes and have to look away.
“Matt Barbera,” my fake boyfriend says as he shakes my dad’s hand. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Whitaker.”
“Please. Call me Bob.”
“Marjorie!” My mother calls out to a woman with a martini in hand. She waves her to come closer. “My daughter Penny is here. Come chat!”
The woman—Marjorie, I suppose—sashays over to us as she takes a long sip of her drink. “Hello, Penny. I’ve heard so much about you.”
She has?
“You have?” I squeak.
“Of course she has,” my mother says, a warning look in her eyes. “I’m very proud of both of my daughters.”
“You are?” Banks appears with my nephew Max in tow, earning her own glare from our mother.
I ruffle Max’s hair.
“Yes, of course!” My mother giggles awkwardly, smiling too widely at her friend.
“Alright, goobers,” Banks says to her kids, who are both yawning and bleary-eyed now. “Let’s get you two up to bed.”
How Banks manages overnight visits in this house is beyond me. I’ve been here less than an hour, and my skin is literally itching with my desire to go.
“Say good night to Grammy and Grandpa,” Banks coaches Maya and Max. They do, and are met with stilted head pats from my parents. No hugs or kisses. Even for the kids. Banks leans close and whispers in my ear, “Will you still be here in thirty minutes?”
“Hard to say,” I whisper back. “But doubtful.”
“Well, if you’re not… thank you for coming. I love you.”
“I love you too.”
“And Matt?” Banks says before she goes.
“Yeah?”
“I hope to see more of you soon. I think you’re good for this one.” She nods sweetly toward me.
Matt runs a hand down my hair. “She’s good for me too.”
We lock eyes for a moment, and everything in me agrees with him.
We are good for each other.
After Banks disappears up the stairs with the kids, my mother clears her throat. It seems we weren’t giving her friend the undivided attention she thinks she deserves.
My father, however, was.
As quickly as I see his hand brush against Marjorie’s ass, it’s gone and planted again on my mother’s shoulder like the tiny infidelity never happened.
But I know better.
And I’m not surprised.
Because this is what he does.
And every single time, she takes him back.
“Marjorie is on the board of ABT,” my mother boasts, either unaware of his wandering hands or ignoring them as usual.
“How nice,” I say politely, bracing myself for what I know is coming next.
“Forgive me,” Matt says, leaning forward. “But what is ABT?”
“American Ballet Theater,” I explain.
“Ah.”
“That’s where Eileen spent her heyday as a dancer,” my dad says proudly.
And she never lets me forget it.
It was always my mom’s hope that I would follow in her footsteps, becoming the prima ballerina she was in her youth.
Ballet was never for me, though. I loved tap, jazz, and musical theater.
And I was great at all of them. You’d think having a daughter who was cast in a world-famous show like the Spectacular Kickettes would make a parent proud.
But not my mom. My “silly” show was never quite good enough for her.
Just as I expected, she launches into her pitch. “Marjorie mentioned they are interviewing for new board members at the ballet. Seems like the perfect opportunity for you, dear, now that you’ve aged out of dancing.”
She’s always doing this, trying to get me involved in her social circles, pushing me toward the high society positions she sees as “worthy.”
Worthy of her, that is.
At that moment, something shifts in me.
Maybe it’s having Matt by my side tonight that makes me bold. Maybe it’s seeing that she and my dad are still stuck in their destructive patterns, and I am finally choosing to be free from mine. Or perhaps she’s just pushed me one too many times.
Whatever the reason… I am done.
“Enough, Mom!” I say. I turn to her “friend.” “Marjorie, I mean no disrespect, but I have zero interest in joining your board. I never have and I never will. Forgive my mother. She has a bad habit of trying to relive her glory days through me and guilting me mercilessly when I don’t comply.
But it must be a Christmas miracle, because I’ve finally run out of fucks to give, so I’ll no longer be entertaining her coercion and condescension.
You’re off the hook, Marj.” I lean closer to her, but purposely speak loud enough for my parents to hear.
“Oh, and a word to the wise? Watch your back at this party. The guys can get a little handsy, if you know what I mean.”
I steal a glance at my dad, who instantly stares down into his martini like it’s fascinating.
Marjorie’s jaw drops slightly at my little speech, but to her credit, she simply nods and excuses herself from our drama as quickly as possible.
Girl, I don’t blame you. If I could get out of here right now, I would too.
My mother is fuming.
“How dare you?” she says when I turn to her.
“No. How dare you?” I toss back. “I’m not your little show pony that you can dress up and show off however you’d like, Mom. I allowed it when I was a child. Hell, I allowed it in my twenties. But I am a thirty-two-year-old woman now. I have my own wants and dreams that have nothing to do with you!”
“Since when?” She scoffs. “Last I checked, you worked retail for over a decade while you let your life and youth pass you by.”
“What did you just say to her?” Matt takes a step forward.
“I said—”
“That was not an invitation to say it again,” Matt says calmly. “That was me marveling at your audacity. You have no idea what this woman—your daughter—is capable of, do you?”
“Well,” my mom huffs. “She could have been a lovely dancer if she’d applied herself.”
“You mean she starved herself?”
“How dare you!” her voice rises.
“Is that your catch phrase, ma’am?” Matt says, his head cocked to the side. “Might be time to try a new one. Or, here’s a thought! Instead of talking at your daughter, you might try asking her a question once in a while. Maybe then you’d actually get to know your own kid.”
“Fine,” she says, her mouth tight. “What are these dreams of yours that you’ve never told us, Penny?”
Part of me knows she doesn’t deserve my answer, but the other part of me is still that little kid who desperately wants her mom to be proud of her.
God, it would feel amazing to experience that at least once in my life.
I take a deep breath and hope for the best.
“I want to open my own dance studio where kids can learn to dance just for the joy of it, not because they’re being primed to be professionals or stars.”
“So you want them to be mediocre?” Her eyebrows furrow in confusion.
I realize then that my mother’s not trying to be obtuse. Or mean-spirited even. She truly doesn’t understand me. It’s like we speak a completely different language.
“No, Mom. I want them to be happy,” I say softly, my eyes begging her to understand. “Just like I wanted to be happy when I was dancing.”
“Happy.” Her voice warbles. “No one is ever happy, are they?”
I almost can’t believe what I see then.
My mother’s eyes fill with tears.
I’ve never seen that before.
“Of course they are.” I place a gentle hand on her shoulder. “But it takes guts to find happiness, Mom. To follow your instincts. To go after the life you want for yourself. That’s what I’m trying to do.”
Her face softens.
I feel like I’m finally connecting with her.
It’s intoxicating. I want more of it.
I glance at my father, who’s in his own world, eyeing a different woman across the room, like his wife and I aren’t even present.
“It also takes guts to let go of the things that bring you down,” I say.
My mother follows my gaze. When she spots the object of her husband’s affection, her face instantly hardens again, the moment between us lost.
“I’m just looking out for you, Penny,” she sneers. “Teaching little kids how to shuffle-ball-change? No. You’re better than that! You know what they say, sweetheart, ‘Those who can, do. Those who can’t, teach. But you can. At least you could until you—”
“That’s enough!” Matt interjects. “I’m trying not to overstep here, but that right there is some bullshit, ma’am. You should see the way your daughter works with kids! She’s incredible with them. We’re co-directing a holiday show right now. You should come see it—”
“Matt, no,” I protest.
The last thing I want is for either of my parents to be present at our show next weekend.
“I’m serious! You’re amazing.” He turns to my mom again.
“Listen to this. One of these little girls—Mikayla—was completely in her shell at the beginning of our rehearsal process. Now, thanks to Penny, she’s dancing up a storm, smiling her face off, absolutely loving being onstage.
It’s beautiful! Maybe if you hadn’t put so much unnecessary fucking pressure on Penny– ”
“I think it’s time you go, son,” my dad says, snapping out of his lust-induced stupor and rejoining the conversation. “I can’t have you disrespecting my wife in my house.”
“Because that’s your job. Right, Dad?”
His face is granite.
I’m shocked at myself for saying it.
But I have no desire to take it back.
I turn to Matt. “My dad’s right. It’s time for us to go.” I reach my hand out to him. “Ready?”
He weaves his fingers through mine, and we head toward the door. But just before we exit, Matt turns and addresses my parents one more time.
“Eileen? Bob? Have the Christmas you deserve.”