Minutes passed before there was a resounding scream of 'FUCK' from the kitchen. Lindy jumped at the sound, recognizing the screech as Kurt's. She could hear his footsteps tromping back to the room before he pushed the door open in a huff.
They stared at each other in momentary silence.
"My mom is inviting us to her house for Christmas," he said begrudgingly. "Kim . . . fucking Kim gave her the number to the house and told her about me and you. She wants us to come. She wants to see me . . . and meet you."
Lindy was unsure of what to say. Wendy was unspoken-of territory in she and Kurt's relationship. Not once had he ever wanted to discuss the details of his lost bond with his mother, but Lindy had always known instinctively that it was of sensitive nature. She chewed her lip nervously.
"So . . . we're going back to Aberdeen for Christmas?"
Kurt slouched defeatedly as something inside him, something confining, seemed to snap after many years of being held taut.
"Pack your bags," he grunted.
_________
On Christmas Eve, Kurt and Lindy stood outside of Wendy O'Connor's home, neither of them making the first move towards the door. A glimmer of warm light lined the street and there was a faint clinking of cutlery and voices laughing coming from inside the house.
Kurt was as stiff as a board, his hands flat at his sides as he stared determinedly at the house with a rigidly set brow. Lindy was directly next to him, holding a tin of store-bought Christmas cookies that she had brought along as a gesture of thanks to Wendy. She was dressed in the nicest clothes she owned -- a pair of black tights and a dainty plaid dress that brushed above the knee. Covering her was a hefty jacket, but not even that shielded her from the icy cold.
"Can we just go in," she whispered. Kurt had shushed her earlier when she'd tried to talk in anything above a murmur.
"It may be . . . awkward," he said with difficulty.
"Kurt, nothing could get anymore awkward than watching my father see you run down the street after we'd just had sex in my bedroom."
"You don't get it," he grumbled, looking down at his bedraggled sneakers with his mouth set in an angry line.
"I do," Lindy told him firmly, touching his shoulder. "I understand what it's like to have a shitty family. But sometimes, we have to bend in these situations."
Kurt swallowed, looking unsure as he faced the front door again. "Stay right beside me," he whispered.
They walked up to the door, wiping snow from the soles of their shoes. Kurt did not make a move to ring the doorbell. Instead, he stared at the door with such mistrust that Lindy had a hard time believing that in his past, this door had not hit him on his way out.
She took the initiative to reach over and press the button that resulted in a chime from the inside hallway. She heard an audible gulp from Kurt.
The door flew open, light spilling out onto the front porch. Wendy stood in front of them, a cream-colored turtleneck sweater swaddling her youthful figure and her blonde hair straight and styled to perfection. Her blue eyes were not unfamiliar to Lindy -- in a weird way, she had been looking into them almost every other night.
"Kurt!" Wendy cried. She yanked her son in for a hug, clinging to him as if she never intended to let him go. Lindy winced when she noticed how solid Kurt remained in her arms, but sighed quietly in relief once he relaxed and hugged his mother back.
twenty-two.
Start from the beginning
