Chapter 5 #2
“You’re welcome to tell her. But maybe you want to pick your battles.” He handed her a steaming mug and then led her to his den, closing the door behind them.
She sunk into one of his oversized sofas—in her opinion, the only comfortable seating in their home. “Oh, Dad, what am I going to do if this gets even more serious with Malcolm and me?”
“And you’re hoping it will?”
She simply nodded, then sipped her coffee, watching his expression change from concern to what almost looked like hopefulness.
“Well,” he said slowly, “you and Malcolm in a serious relationship . . . it might be just what your mother needs.”
“How’s that?”
“Might help her to see how unreasonable and dysfunctional her perfectionist ways have become. Not to mention impossible to live with.”
She felt a wave of compassion. “Oh, Dad,” she exclaimed. “I don’t know how you do it. Year after year. At least I got to escape.”
“Sometimes I wonder.” He set his mug down with a clunk right on the wooden coffee table, ignoring the coasters stacked neatly there.
“I’ve considered leaving, Olivia. I hate to admit it, but I have moments when I wonder how much a grown man can take.
I even imagine that my leaving could be a wake-up call for your mother.
Then I remember our wedding vows, my commitment to the Lord . . . and I feel guilty.”
“I kind of have similar feelings. I mean, it’s not like I can divorce my own mother, but I do imagine moving so far away that I never have to interact with her.”
“Oh, honey, I would miss you.”
She smiled sadly. “I would miss you too.”
“Well, I’m really glad you and Malcolm came this weekend. It’s got me thinking about a harebrained idea I got while watching some weird TV movie.”
“What’s that?”
“An intervention.”
“Seriously? What would you do? Get a professional here?”
“Maybe if necessary. But I thought of family and friends to start with. Not that Jane has many friends. I mean, there are a couple of sweet church gals that put up with her. And whether she can admit it or not, she’s got good friends in Cindy and Erik.
Despite our Hatfield and McCoy history, they are habitually kind and gracious to her.
It sometimes makes me feel even more guilty. ”
“They’re good people.”
He just nodded. “Anyway, I’ve imagined this intervention where your grandmother comes for an extended visit. Maybe even during the holidays.”
Olivia felt her eyes getting big. “No way, Dad. That could be seriously messed up.”
“Exactly. I’d like to mess up your mom’s world. And who better than Lulu to do that?”
She considered this. “You make a good point.”
“And maybe, with this new development with Malcolm, maybe we could use that as an excuse to involve his family.”
“New development?” She wondered just how much Dad knew. She hadn’t told him, or anyone, her true feelings. Dad just smiled his knowing smile, which was both reassuring and aggravating.
“To be honest, this new development with Malcolm might end before it gets fully started.”
Dad looked clearly disappointed. “Why?”
“I’m afraid Mom and her relationship with his family could put the kibosh on the whole thing. Talk about a romance killer.”
Dad rubbed his chin and picked up his coffee mug, slowly sipping before looking at her. “Do you really like him, Olivia? I mean, do you think he might be the one?”
She didn’t know what to say. “I really do like him. And I guess I hope he’s the one. He’s quite a guy, Dad.”
“I know. I like him too.”
She smiled, relieved that at least one of her parents approved, but then she heard something in the kitchen. “Sounds like Mom is up.”
Dad closed his eyes and let out a long sigh. “I guess we should brace ourselves for whatever lies ahead.”
“It’s Sunday. Don’t you guys usually go to church?”
“Usually. But seeing that we have a guest . . . I don’t know.”
They both turned to see the den door open.
“Oh, you’re in here,” Jane said. “Good morning.”
They greeted her and listened to her tell them what she planned to fix for breakfast, but when Olivia offered to help, Jane immediately and expectedly declined.
“Well, just holler if you change your mind,” Olivia called out as Jane firmly closed the door. “She still seems mad,” she whispered to her dad.
He just nodded.
“Back to your intervention idea,” she said quietly. “Are you serious?”
“Serious as a heart attack.”
She grimaced. Hopefully it wouldn’t come down to that.
“So, if you and Malcolm are still together in a couple weeks, and your mom told me you promised to come home for a few days during the holidays, and I assume Malcolm will be at his folks’ place . . . do you think you two would like to be involved in this intervention?”
She tried to imagine what that would look like and realized she couldn’t even wrap her head around it. But the idea of confronting her mom with a group for an intervention made her feel slightly sick inside. Well, unless it worked.
“I guess so, Dad. But there are so many ways it could go wrong. It’d be disingenuous to act like I’m not worried.”
“You and me both. But sometimes drastic situations call for drastic measures.”
“I guess.” She sipped her now lukewarm but still very strong coffee laced with its pathetic excuse for creamer. “Do you think Grandma Lulu would even come?”
“I don’t know, but I’m willing to find out.”
She slowly shook her head as realization of the disaster ahead suddenly manifested in her imagination. “Wow, Dad, this could be a very messy Christmas.”
He held up his coffee mug in a toast. “Okay, partner, let’s drink to that. To a very messy Christmas.”
She stretched over to clink her mug against his. Hopefully they would all survive with health and sanity intact, but Olivia had some very serious doubts.