38. Chapter Thirty-Seven London
Chapter Thirty-Seven: London
“ A re you sure about this?” Gloria asks me for what feels like the fifty-seventh time on the drive from her apartment to my parents’ home.
It’s been a few weeks since Sav’s disastrous wedding and the aftermath, and we were all surprised to hear that our parents have sought counselling instead of getting divorced.
It shocked me even more when my mom called me a few weeks ago asking if Gloria would like to come to Thanksgiving dinner since she wants to apologize to her.
“Yes, I’m sure.” I drum my fingers on the steering wheel at a red light. My other hand grasps hers, and I bring her hand to mine, kissing her knuckles. “I wouldn’t bring you if I didn’t think they had changed.”
And to my surprise, they have. One of Mom’s friends asked her to go to church around the same time that the divorce was filed, and apparently, Dad decided to go with her. The two of them have softened in their communication towards each other.
Dad’s harsher tones are sanded down to a more patient cadence.
Mom’s complaints have been less and less frequent about him.
It hasn’t been perfect by any chance, but…
it’s more than I ever thought I would see in my lifetime.
Mo m even called the other day to tell me that Dad was mowing the lawn on a weekly basis.
“It’s just hard to believe without having seen it for myself. And since the last time I saw them didn’t exactly cast them in a good light,” Gloria says, biting her lower lip.
As we pull into the driveway, I squeeze her hand. “It’ll be alright. And if it isn’t, we can leave whenever you want. I’ll pretend to get food poisoning.”
“You’re not going to fake a heart attack?” she teases.
I roll my eyes in spite of the grin spreading across my face. “I’m not Reggie. Unless you want me to, so you can give me CPR?”
She shakes her head. “Nope. No PDA in front of your family.”
“Is that so?” I get out of the car and walk over to her side to get her door. When she clambers out of my car, I pretend to pull her into a hug. In reality, I seize the moment to tickle her sides, and she squeals, her laughter warming parts of my heart that I thought would always be cold.
“Yes!” she says, escaping my grip and running towards the front door with a mischievous grin. “Now come on. We’re going to be late, and the last thing I want to make is a bad third impression on your family.”
She even brought gifts for my family—a bag of Filipino snacks—even though I assured her it was totally unnecessary.
“They should be worried about making a bad third impression on you ,” I say. Thinking of my mom always makes a knot of complicated emotions tighten in my chest. “Especially my mom.”
The door opens after a few moments, Savannah and Micah standing there in matching Thanksgiving-themed sweaters with turkeys on them. “Hey, guys. Good to see you again, Gloria!”
To my surprise, Savannah pulls Gloria in for a hug. None of us are particularly touchy-feely—but maybe marriage has changed her? Gloria reciprocates the hug after a moment of surprised stiffness. Then, my sister turns to me and gives me a hug, one that shocks me more than it should.
Micah and I exchange greetings. Gloria keeps a tight grip on her gift bag until we enter the kitchen, where, to my surprise, Dad has his sleeves rolled up as he rolls out a misshapen pie crust, cans of pumpkin puree next to him. Mom is nowhere in sight.
“Hey, Dad.” The words still feel shaky as they exit my lips. “You remember my girlfriend, Gloria, right?”
“I do.” He wipes his hands on a kitchen towel and crosses the room to shake hers. “It’s a pleasure to see the woman who’s made my son so happy.”
I blink. Whatever I expected from my dad, it wasn’t this. Not that he’s ever been outright hostile towards me before—usually he would save his ire for Mom—but this kind of verbal affection from him is foreign to me.
“It’s good to see you again, too, Mr. Young,” Gloria says.
My dad waves away the formality with a chuckle instead of soaking up the respect like I expected him to. “None of that. You can call me Roger.”
“Okay… Uncle Roger.” She holds up the bag of snacks. “I brought some treats for everyone. Where can I put them?”
Just then, Mom enters the kitchen, her hair still in curlers but the rest of her outfit immaculate as always: a red blouse tucked into tan slacks with a brown leather Ralph Lauren belt.
She smooths invisible wrinkles out of her top.
“Gloria! London! I wasn’t expecting the two of you to be here so early. ”
All my siblings are here already, so I doubt the veracity of her statement. It’s more likely that she lost track of time while getting ready.
“I brought snacks,” Gloria repeats, looking more anxious by the minute. I step closer to her and rest my hand on her back, silently willing her to calm down.
“Thank you so much!” Mom takes the bag and looks inside. “Oh, I love White Rabbit candy. ”
The two of them have that in common, at least.
“Gloria, London, could I talk to you for a moment in private?” Mom nervously fidgets with one of the curlers still in her hair, pulling it out of her hair in what I can tell is her trying to be inconspicuous. “In the hallway, maybe?”
“Of course.” Gloria’s shoulders loosen slightly and I imagine she’s looking forward to getting this awkward conversation over with. As am I.
Mom clears her throat, fiddling with her watch.
“Gloria, I wanted to apologize for everything I said to you when you came to visit us for Thanksgiving so many years ago. I could see how he looked at you–like you were the one he was going to marry and wake up to every morning, the one he was going to be with for the rest of his life. And that… terrified me. I’ll be honest, I’ve always been protective over London, not just because he’s my youngest but he’s always been the closest to me.
“I didn’t want to lose him, and I thought if he married you one day, he’d be gone from my life forever.
I never should have tried to control his life, or hurt you in that way.
I can see now that you are good for him.
And I can tell that I can have no greater happiness for me than seeing my son happy.
So Gloria, I’m so sorry for how I treated you and making you feel like you weren’t good enough.
“Will you forgive me?”
Gloria takes a deep breath. “I–I don’t know what to say.”
“You don’t have to say anything yet,” I assure her.
Her spine straightens. “I appreciate your apology. I… I want to forgive you, and move forward.”
“Thank you,” my mom says, her eyes gleaming with unshed tears. “I hope that one day… you might want to be part of our family, dysfunctional as we are. And I hope you know that when that day comes, I will welcome you with open arms. ”
Gloria’s smile is small, but genuine. “I would like that.”
“Now, let’s go back to Thanksgiving dinner. I’m worried your father will burn the stuffing,” she jokes, a twinkle in her eye.
“Hey! I heard that!” he says from the kitchen, but it’s a more jovial tone than I’ve ever heard from him.
A lump swells in my throat as my mom walks back into the kitchen. Gloria makes to follow her, but I stop her.
Grabbing her hand, I tug her towards me. “I love you, you know that?”
Her brown eyes sparkle as she steps closer to me, pressing a feather-light kiss to my lips. “I know.”