Daddy's Coming Home For Christmas

Chapter Six: Now That I'm Back

Raphael

It was funny how much hadn't changed in seven years. Most of the houses on the street that I had grown up on looked exactly the same. Most of the Christmas decorations adorning the neighbor's lawns were the same ones that had been there when I left. The light-up manger scene at the Wright’s house, the inflatable Grinch at the Nelson’s.

I felt a happy tug in my heart when I saw the familiar Bernini replica statue, still standing proud in the center of the yard.

That silly statue had been my dad’s pride and joy, even though it had caused a lot of ruckus back in the day. Little old ladies complained that the life-size almost-nude figures of Apollo and Daphne were pornographic and obscene. Gabe and I had spent the entire summer dressing the statues in bikinis, housedresses, bathrobes, beach towels, even an old prom dress we found at a lawn sale.

Eventually, the neighborhood got used to it, and the old biddies stopped complaining, and we stopped dressing them. It was a good memory though. A happy one, from the days when my little brother was still my best friend.

There was an old Honda parked in the driveway, which I assumed belonged to my mother’s care provider. My critical eye ran over the familiar lines of the house, noting the small things that needed to be addressed. It needed a fresh coat of paint, the gutters hadn’t been cleaned, and the hedges needed trimming.

It felt a bit odd to walk up and ring the doorbell on my own house, but I had been away for seven years. I didn’t want to startle or offend anyone, least of all my hot-tempered Italian mother.

I was just about to ring the bell again when the door was pulled open by a super cute little kid with dark curly hair and amber eyes. She stared up at me. From inside the house I heard a voice call, “Is that Mrs. Moston?”

The woman's voice was familiar, and all the hair on the back of my neck stood on end.

“No,” the kid called back. “It’s that guy.”

I heard a scuffle from the back of the house, and that same voice, alarmed now, “What guy?”

The little girl didn’t budge, but blocked the door with her small body and continued to stare at me like a little owl. “The one we saw on TV. Daddy’s brother.”

“Okay Lucy, thank you.” The door was pulled open all the way, and Beth stood there, gripping the door. Her hair seemed to have grown darker over the years, and it was now cut just below her shoulders. Her skin was still as pale and white and creamy as milk, with just a few freckles across her cheeks. Her eyes, like blue slate, looked at me with a cautious and guarded expression.

“Beth,” I almost choked on her name, “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

Her brows knit together. “No, I guess you didn’t.”

“I’ve come to see Mom. Is she around?”

“Yes, of course. She’s just watching TV,” she stepped back and held the door so that I could enter the foyer.

Nothing had changed. The same furniture was arranged in exactly the same way, the same paintings on the wall, the same old family Christmas decorations. Some of the family photos had been taken down or rearranged, replaced with portraits of the dark-haired little girl.

I wasn’t surprised, my mother probably doted on her only grandchild. I stepped into the living room, and found a new recliner pulled up close to the TV. My mother was asleep in the chair, her head lolled to one side, her mouth open. A daytime soap opera was playing on the TV, with the volume way too loud.

I stopped a few feet away and stared. When had my mother become so… old? So frail looking? She had always been a petite woman, but somehow strong, powerful, intimidating at the same time. The old lady in the chair looked like she would blow away in a stiff wind.

Beth moved quietly beside me. She used a remote to mute the television, and then she gently nudged my mother’s arm. “Nana Charlie? Wake up. You have a visitor.”

Mom jerked a little and closed her mouth before she lifted her head and opened her eyes.

Even her eyes seemed dull compared to my memory of her sharp gaze. But I saw the moment recognition clicked. “Ra—Raph—“ her speech was strange, slow, slurred. And when she spoke, only one side of her mouth moved.

I shot an accusatory glance at Beth, but she just stood, her arms crossed over her chest, watching me with a closed, unreadable expression.

“Hey Mom," I dragged over a footstool and sat beside her. “I’m back in town.”

She hummed, but I saw the emotions flicker through her eyes. Hot anger, sadness, happiness all flashed through as tears brimmed on her eyelashes. I reached for her hand, but her fingers were limp and unresponsive against mine. “Mom…” I had so many things I wanted to tell her, so many apologies I needed to make, but the only words which would come out of my tight throat were, “what happened to you?”

Beth startled and took a step back with a perplexed look on her face. “Don’t you know?”

“Know what?” I asked, sharper than I intended.

Beth's expression was incredulous. “Charlie had a stroke a little more than a year ago.”

“A stroke?” I felt a chill run down my spine. I turned to the red-haired woman that had once been the love of my life. Now she was just a stranger with a familiar face. “Why wasn’t I informed?”

“I…” she looked confused. “I thought you were? Gabriel said—“

Gabriel. Of course, he would keep something this important from me. Our mother could have died, she had clearly suffered a debilitating health crisis that could have been fatal, and he had purposely kept me in the dark, still intent on punishing me for God-only-knows-what.

Since my brother wasn’t around, I turned my temper on the next best thing. “You two had no right to keep this information from me!” I shouted angrily. “You and Gabe have been sneaking around behind my back for the better part of seven years! But it ends here and now! I want you out of this house!”

Her face, already pale, turned an almost waxy white. “But I can’t just leave!” She protested softly.

“You can, and you will!” I shouted.

A little dark-haired whirlwind stormed into the room, “Don’t you yell at my mommy!” She put her small fists on her little hips and glared up at me with the all-too familiar Segretto fire.

My mother grabbed my wrist with her left hand, and squeezed it with surprising strength. When I met her watery gaze, she shook her head at me vigorously, a clear and obvious, albeit silent reprimand.

Of course. Of course, my mother would take their side. His side. After all, Gabe was the good son, the one who had stayed by mom’s side, taking care of her after I left. He had married the girl she loved like a daughter, and he had carried on the family name. Gabriel was still the golden boy.

I stood up abruptly, and pulled my arm away from my mother. I pointed a threatening finger at Beth, “This isn’t over!”

I glanced down at the angry little girl who was still glaring up at me with a very grown-up sour expression. I felt a quick stab of guilt for losing my cool in front of a kid. So much for having a relationship with my niece. Judging by the look on her face, she had already made up her mind that I was an ogre.

I walked around the girl, past Beth, who still looked practically translucent, and yanked open the door. “Now that I’m back, things are going to change!” I promised. And then I walked out and slammed the door shut behind me.