Saturday rolled around unwanted as a bitter cold. Lucas knew he had to eventually tell his mother about his life, but he couldn't bring himself to look forward to an interaction he was certain would be painful as pulling teeth. On the positive the issue became something to worry about besides his performance in the upcoming game, which otherwise would have been driving him crazy.
"Where are we going again?" Lucas' mother asked for the third time. They were going to a casual restaurant, and he outfit showed she had yet to conceptualize that fact.
"It's an Italian restaurant on Delaware Avenue." Lucas explained. "You like Italian, right?"
"No."
"Vinny, are you ready?" Lucas called. Vincent emerged from the room, earning a strange look from Lucas' mother.
"When did Vincent get here?"
"Earlier this morning." Lucas explained.
"Of course he did." Ms. Marshall rolled her eyes. "He's coming?"
"Yes." Lucas left no room for disagreement. "I need to be at the game early, so I'll drive you both back, then I'll leave and you guys can ride together?"
"Doesn't Vincent have a car?" Ms. Marshall asked.
"No... his mom took the car. You can drive him, right? You rented a car at the airport?"
"I suppose." Ms. Marshall said walking out the door.
Vincent rode in the back of the car to the restaurant, staring out the window. He wasn't sure there was a good outcome for the day, all he could see were bitter consequences. The restaurant was one he'd never gone to, and wasn't all that excited to try, especially seeing how the huge damper would be placed on the night.
At the table, Lucas was able to sit next to Vincent, and he grasped his hand beneath the cover of a white table cloth. Cloaked in innocence as his mother complained about the service.
"You'd think that if we made a reservation, they'd have a seat set aside." She complained.
"We didn't have to wait very long." Vincent offered.
"I don't usually have to wait at all."
"Have you booked a flight home yet?"
"No. I didn't think we reached a decision on my staying for the holidays." Ms. Marshall stubbornly inserted. Lucas knew she wouldn't want to stay once he told her about him and Vincent, but he figured he'd let her decide rather than attempting to fight with her. "Tell me Vincent, how did your exams go?"
"Very well, Ma'am." Vincent smiled sweetly. "I'm sure glad to be done for the semester though."
"And Lucas?" She asked.
"They were fine."
"Just fine?"
"Yes."
"Well... you know I don't know what to get, I haven't had Italian food in years." Ms. Marshall mused flipping through the menu. "What do you usually like?"
"I... I need carbs for the game, so I'll probably get pasta." Lucas stated.
"Oh, no pasta for me. I'm watching my figure. I suppose I'll just have to have a salad." She closed the menu with a sigh. "So Lucas, really no girls have caught your eye? I know back in my day, all the girls were obsessed with the star athletes."
"Oh they're still obsessed with him." Vincent mumbled.
"Nope. No girls. Really mom, we should talk about-"
"I just don't understand you Lucas. When you were little, your father and I, well we suspected... we suspected something. But, now you've grown into such a strapping young gentleman, I don't see why you can't find a nice girl. College won't last forever."
"I know that mom." Lucas frowned.
"We didn't want to say anything because we wanted you to do it on your own, but your father and I were so proud of you for trying sports, and bulking up so much. You really became our little man."
"As opposed to what?" Lucas raised an eyebrow.
"Well... you know Lucas, don't make me say it, it's very awkward in front of Vincent."
"What do you mean?" Lucas asked angrily. "If I wasn't into sports or I hadn't gained weight I wouldn't be a man? What would I be then? What did you think I was going to be? And why can't you say it in front of Vincent."
"If you must be coarse, Lucas, we worried you might be a homosexual... I was so concerned for a while your father was too... I mean.. imagine, in our family... It would be-"
"What mom? It would be what?" Lucas badgered. "And I hope the reason you didn't want to say that in front of Vincent was only because you know it's an awful thing to say, and you're embarrassed."
"It would be scandalous." She huffed. "And Vincent, I really didn't mean anything by it, I just didn't want to make you uncomfortable... seeing as how you're...."
"He's what, mom?"
"Gay."
"You know what? You're just as bad as dad. I used to think you were better, just going along because he's your husband, but you're horrible. You're both horrible people. I can't believe you would sit there and say those things about Vincent." Lucas' temper wore very thin.
"Lucas, where is this coming from? Don't raise your voice at me..." His mother scolded. "And Vincent, if it's not true, then I'm sorry. I'd be glad to be proven wrong. It'd make me feel a lot better about all the stuff we let the two of you do as children."
"God mom. You're only sorry if he isn't gay? Otherwise he deserves to be treated horribly? Otherwise he deserves to be treated less than?"
"I didn't say that. I just said I was sorry I made the assumption if I was incorrect." Ms. Marshall explained.
"You're right mom. Vincent is gay. I'm gay. Vincent's gay. You, dad, you were right about everything." Lucas spat, only pausing to take a breath. "Vincent is my boyfriend mom. I brought you out tonight to tell you that. I wanted to share the best thing in my life with you, and you've sat here and made it ugly."
"Oh."
"Oh?" Lucas pulled at the front of his hair. "All you can say is 'oh?' No apology? No remorse? Nothing. Absolutely nothing."
Lucas' mother grew very quiet, staring down at the food in front of her. It was as if she'd had the rug pulled out from under her. Perhaps she was embarrassed but too proud to admit it. Perhaps she still thought she was right. Vincent couldn't tell. All he could see was a woman lost in a crowded restaurant, eyes dead as if she'd seen a ghost. All he could see was a woman who didn't know what'd just hit her.
"God mom, just say something, anything."
"You're... together?" She asked, after a long moment of silence.
"Yes."
"For how long."
"Thanksgiving."
"Of what year?"
"This one." Lucas rolled his eyes.
"And you've... I mean you had... you did...?" She stuttered.
"No."
"Thank God." She muttered, but Lucas didn't have the strength to argue. "Does Molly know? Vincent does your mother know?"
"No, Ma'am."
"I don't know what to say." Ms. Marshall looked up to Lucas. "What am I meant to say?"
"Say..." Lucas' breath hitched in his throat, and he laid his head in is arms propped up on the table. "Say you still love me.... say you're happy for us... say you're glad I'm finally expressing myself."
"I still love you."
"Mom."
"I have nothing else to say." She whispered.
"You have nothing else to say." He repeated, looking down at his hands in his lap. "Are you going home?"
"I came for the game. I'm staying for the game."
"And then?"
"Then I have to go."
"How come?"
Ms. Marshall made no response. She simply stared down at her food as the steam rose off and it grew cold. A similar coldness fell over the table, any warmth of anger thawing to a freeze of despair. Nobody had anything to say.
"I think we should go back." Lucas said after a few minutes. "I'll pay. Vincent... would you.. would you take my mom to the car?" Lucas handed Vincent the keys.
"I'm alright." Ms. Marshall stood up. "I'm... alright. Let's go Vincent."
Vincent and Ms. Marshall walked together to Lucas' car, Vincent pausing to turn it on, then going to the back.
"You can- You can sit in the front until he gets back if you'd like." She stopped him.
"Thank you." Vincent stared out the window at the cold dead sky. There was hardly a cloud, but the sun was barely in sight, the day bitter and grey. He traced the fog on the window as a drip of condensation seeped down.
"Tell me about my son." She asked, breaking the silence. "I know nothing about him."
"That's not true, Ms. Marshall."
"I know nothing about him, and he doesn't want me to." She clutched her seatbelt protectively. "This is exactly what we were afraid of."
Vincent said nothing else. He didn't know what to say. She did know very little about her son, but it had nothing to do with Lucas' wants, only her own. Of course, that wasn't Vincent's place to say. Parenting was private, and even if he didn't approve, all he could do was not make the same mistakes with his kids.
Lucas and Vincent wordlessly switched seats and began the car ride home. As they passed the dead-end streets and empty houses, Vincent looked over to Ms. Marshall. She sat straight ahead, making no eye contact, and on her face was a mask of grace, attempting to conceal what was boiling underneath; in her eyes were subtle tears. They threatened to pour down, bursting through the barricade and scar her colorless cheeks. Sometimes things cut deeper than we know at first. Sometimes things fester and get worse. Sometimes sadness coils into a web of anger.
"You'll drive Vincent, mom?" Lucas asked as they pulled into the parking lot of his modern building. The gleam of the glass structure juxtaposed the grey mood of the sky and in their hearts. "Mom?"
"Hmm?" Ms. Marshall turned, acknowledging that she hadn't heard him the first time. Breaking from the prison of her mind she realized they were home and exited the car, coming to meet Lucas and Vincent behind.
"I'm going now." Lucas nodded to his car, already packed with a change of clothes. "You and Vincent can come in an hour or so. You'll still drive him, right? If not, I can take him now."
"I don't mind being early. Really, if you'd like to be alone, I'm usually early." Vincent chipped in.
"No. I don't want to be alone." She shook her sorrow filled head. "I- I'd like to speak with Vincent... then meet you there."
"Alright, Mom." Lucas nodded, then stood awkwardly for a moment. He didn't know what to say.. he didn't know what to do. Part of him said he should hug her, another part said she didn't deserve it after the scene she'd created at the restaurant. It was hard, he supposed, to let go of the image you'd always had of a woman who raised you. His mother was graceful, elegant, and refined, if a little absent, but in that moment with frizzied hair and a stone face she looked nothing of the sort. She looked like a woman with nothing together, and Lucas supposed she was. "I love you."
"Mhhm." His mother sounded in agreement, eyes still trained to his sneakers. Lucas sighed and got into his car, offering Vincent a quick side hug before he left and pealed from the driveway leaving them alone.
"Do you want to go upstairs?" Vincent asked her, checking his watch; an hour would go quick with two elevator rides.
"No." She said, and walked promptly to a nearby bench. "Sit, Vincent."
"Okay."
They sat in an uncomfortable silence. Vincent wasn't sure when he should speak or if she was waiting for him too. He almost did a few times, but thought better of it, and changed his mind. If Ms. Marshall wanted to talk, she was more than capable of doing so, even if her current state made that a debatable fact.
"This isn't want I wanted for my son." She explained after a few excruciating moments. "This isn't right, and it's not what I want."
"It's what Lucas wants."
"He doesn't know what he wants." She explained calmly. "Your mother would be so disappointed in you, taking advantage of Lucas in his childhood confusion. She'd be devastated if she knew you were behaving like this. She always wanted you to be moral. She always told me she cared more that you were a good person than that you went to the best schools or anything. She'd be sore ashamed if she knew."
"Don't speak about my mother." Vincent stated with a quiet vigor.
"This is why we wanted Lucas at the prep school, but he just had to be with you so we relented, and here we are. We let him go to that damn St. Andrew's School for boys, and it came back to bite us, just like we knew it would." Ms. Marshall explained. "Your mother promised that it'd be alright. She promised me it was a good education. I should have known you all had an ulterior motive."
Ms. Marshall smoothed her black skirt over her stocking covered legs as she sat on the bench, a remnant of an old world dead and gone hanging on for dear life. She was cracking, breaking down, but she'd managed to convince herself she was right, gaining strength, regaining the upper hand. Vincent took a deep breath to stop himself from getting angry; it'd help with anything.
"Don't you feel guilty? Manipulating Lucas like this? He can't see now, but one day he will. Going after money like this. Playing with his feelings, confusing him... maybe your mother wouldn't be ashamed. Maybe this is what the two of you wanted all along. Maybe you wanted to go in and ruin our family from the inside." Her voice lost the initial calm edge.
"Don't you dare-"
"You can't break my family! You can't ruin what we've built!" Ms. Marshall stood up, tears finally breaking forth from her eyes. Her voice crackled like feedback attempting clarity through microphone. "Leave us alone."
"Your family's been broken for a long time."
"Oh you're very smug." She pointed her finger accusingly. "It isn't my fault your father's a deadbeat. It isn't my fault your mother's a gold digging bitch. It isn't my fault you couldn't afford the prep school. And it sure as hell won't be my fault when Lucas sees you for the climber that you are."
"Shut up!" Vincent shouted, hands clenching into fists. "I told you not to talk about my mother. You've said a lot of things. Don't say anything else. Don't you dare go any further."
"I can't bring back your father, Vincent. I didn't take him." Ms. Marshall crumpled to the ground a mess of tears finally breaking past every wall she'd put up during her 40 years of life. Every line drawn in the sand washed away with raw emotions teaming out of her like a waterfall. "You can't take my son... you can't replace him with my son."
"Get up!" Vincent chastised. "Get off the ground! Your son is alive. He's fine. Quit acting like a child."
"Don't talk to me like that!" She screamed. "I'm.. I'm..." Her voice crinkled out of existence as she attempted to think of some position of authority she held over Vincent, but she found none. She had none.
"I'll speak to you as you speak to me." Vincent crossed his arms bitterly. "Expect nothing more. Resent nothing less."
"I've done so much for you!" She shouted, standing from the ground. She didn't have an argument there, everyone knew that the Chances had done more for Lucas than the Mashalls ever did for Vincent. "I let you into my home.. I-"
"You've done nothing for me." Vincent stated, sitting on the bench again. "Nothing."
"Ungrateful." She muttered. "Why can't you just leave Lucas alone? Just leave him alone."
"Can't you see that'd hurt Lucas more than anything else I could do? Or do you know so little about my son."
"I know a hell of a lot more about him than you do."
"That simply isn't true."
Ms. Marshall stood up in anguish, feverishly wiping her tears. There was a look on her face that told Vincent she was about to do something they'd both regret. Her hair had become frazzled and fallen from the pins that held it up. Her face, a mess of red tear and hot anger. Her clothes were wrinkled from being improperly worn. She looked like a mad woman, the grey sky behind her, and the hatred in her heart. The cold inside freezing the exterior like frost on a window. Vincent had never seen her like that. He'd never seen any woman like that.
Ms. Marshall's face cracked with a terrifying smile and she ran to her car and got in, locking the doors in one move. Vincent's face lit with terror.
"No!" He called, racing forward, but he was too late, and had to jump back as the car sped out of the driveway, slamming into the curb as she went. Ms. Marshall zoomed into the distance, and Vincent's anger finally overtook him.
"BITCH!" He screamed, falling to his knees and wrapping his head in his hands. Cursing wasn't in his nature, but he was unable to hold it back. She was punishing Lucas, not Vincent. Vincent knew that, he couldn't stand to know that Lucas was going to be hurt by her actions. He couldn't stand that Lucas' would have to hurt more. "Fucking psycho bitch." He muttered.