17
feast
Thanksgiving came a few days later, and like I promised my mother I would do — I drove up with the kids to New Hampshire to spend it with her. And judging by Mom's expression when she opened the front door, I'd made the right decision.
"Oh, goodness," She scooped Celia and Joseph into her arms, laughing slightly. "You all just keep getting bigger and bigger whenever I see you."
"Children have a tendency to do that." I replied with a wry smile.
Mom glared up at me, children still in her arms. "I consider it a refreshing change since clearly nothing has changed with you. You're just as sarcastic as ever."
"Touché." If only you knew.
I'd refrained from telling her about pursuing the divorce because I felt that it was a discussion we needed to have in person. Granted, Thanksgiving may not have been the best time, but I wasn't sure when else in the near future I would have the opportunity.
I was somewhat surprised when Mom simply ushered us all into the house, without even asking or looking confused as to where Nate was. However, that suspicion died upon entry to the realm of warmth as the delightful aroma of turkey and gravy entered my nostrils.
The home itself was as beautiful as I remembered. It was about the same size as mine, boasting one or two more bedrooms and bathrooms here and there. On the ground floor alone, adjacent to the foyer we currently stood in, laid the living room and family room on the left and right respectively. From the living room there was a staircase leading upstairs, and past there sat the dining room. On the side with the family room, the connecting kitchen led straight to a bathroom, and between that and the dining room was another little sitting room behind which contained a sliding door to the backyard. Upstairs, there were only various bathrooms and bedrooms, with which I immediately headed with our suitcases, because we would be staying overnight.
As I left, I heard Mom ask the kids in a soft voice, "How's school going for the two of you? Celia, don't you roll your eyes at me."
"But school is boring." I heard Celia complain.
"I like school." Joseph remarked quietly, yet thoughtfully.
The rest of the conversation became intelligible as I climbed the remaining stairs whilst struggling with the luggage. On the top floor, I placed Celia and Joseph's things into a separate guest bedroom, and trudged onward to the room at the end of the dimly lit hall — my room.
I pressed my palm against the wooden door, pushing it open without much force. The lights were off, but with a quick flick of the switch everything brightened with a faintly yellow glow, and my smile began to fade.
The room was large for a bedroom, but exceptionally plain to the ordinary eye. Anyone who walked inside would say they saw blue walls, a queen-sized bed, and a few drawers, maybe even a closet. When you'd never lived and breathed every inch of a given space, you had a tendency to see past its unique quirks.
I saw the same periwinkle walls that I looked at every night for eighteen years. The one behind the bed had a fair amount of battle scars: fingernail scratchings, pencil smudges, and a brief hint of lipstick danced around the area right behind the head of it. I could practically hear my teen angst at Mom's pestering of the spots, feel the pout on my lips and the glare in my eye as I looked up at the ceiling, waiting for night to pass. Not that there was much to look at — just a white rotating ceiling fan which, to this day, clung tightly to the ceiling.
I kept my room relatively barren over my childhood years, as apparently I'd become obsessed with some minimalist aesthetic. On the far side of the room sat my closet which, literally, extended from one side of the room to the other behind the wall in a hallway-like fashion. It was an obscene amount of clothing space which I couldn't see how I would've had the use for as a kid, because I definitely hadn't been as clothing-obsessed then as I was even now.
On the wall nearest to me there was another door, this one leading to my bathroom. It was a standard sink, toilet, and shower, and I remembered making a deal with Mom at the age of maybe thirteen that I could paint the bedroom walls blue if I agreed to leave the bathroom walls as they came — light pink.
I had a few chests of drawers leftover, as well as a little corner desk, where I'd do my homework every night. The blocky, inefficient computer I'd had was still set up, completely intact except for a little dust here and there. Compared to technology today it was an ancient relic, and I made a note of it to convince Mom to get rid of it sometime.
I settled my suitcase against the bed, and had a closer look around. In my initial sweep, I'd failed to take note of the various pictures that were still hanging. One was a painting, done by a Chinese artist that Mom had forgotten the name of long ago. It was artistically incredible, but during my teen years I'd never gotten the chance to appreciate the abstract, gloomy, grey picture it depicted — maybe because it hit too close to home.
The others were family photos we collected over the years. The largest of the bunch was a portrait of me, I couldn't have been older than six or seven, and it was taken at the beach. My black hair was shoulder-length and frizzy, swinging into my face with the summer winds. My green eyes were bright, looking into the camera like two shining spheres of peridot. I didn't think I'd ever smiled harder.
The next photo was the most recent one — graduation from Columbia. I stood proudly beside my mother, whose small stature, identical hair, and similar shaped mouth often
got us mistaken for sisters. I wore my blue cap and gown proudly, and I knew at that moment I was on top of the world.
My eyes lingered on the then-newly acquired diamond ring on my finger.
The last photo was when I was about fifteen, and although I had a smile on my face I could see right through it. The younger me had her arms tightly around a man with an equally loving embrace. His sharp curls were tinged with flecks of grey, and wrinkles in his skin only made his joy more palpable. His chin rested on my head, and I could hear the words he told me when we took that picture in the back of my mind: I love you. It was ironic, because neither of them knew that their happiness was unwarranted. Neither of them knew they were unhealthy.
"I still miss him." Mom's wistful voice drew me out of my trance. "It seems like just yesterday he was here with us."
I didn't turn around. Absentmindedly, my fingers roamed the edges of the photograph, the place where all happiness of this moment had been stolen.
"Jake would've been real proud of you, Lily." Mom continued, stepping closer into the bedroom. "I know he would've loved to see you now, all grown up, with kids of your own."
Now we were alone, and her words triggered the pain I'd been attempting to hide. I turned around to face her, my eyes gazing into her blue ones wildly. "Mom, I have to tell you something."
Her bittersweet look faded, and she looked at me seriously. "Yes, honey? What is it?"
The doorbell rang.
"Oh, dear me, I have to run and get that." Her demeanor changed entirely as she straightened, gave me an apologetic look, and went out of the door, leaving me stunned.
Shoot, I muttered to myself as I sighed heavily. The nerves ceased to shake, and I took a seat on the bed as I attempted to calm myself down.
It's not a big deal. She'll come back and you'll tell her then. You have plenty of time to.
I lifted my eyes, locking them on the abstract, gloomy, grey painting.
After a few minutes of sitting there, I'd heard nothing from the downstairs area that would signify that Mom was coming back up anytime soon, so with another sigh I stood up and decided to head downstairs. Maybe I could help her cook or something.
On my way to the kitchen though, I heard several voices coming from the foyer. It hadn't occurred to me that Mom had invited guests, and my mood soured slightly with the thought of having to deal with whoever they were for hours on end.
"Rosalind, I must say you're looking well." A sweet male voice crooned, making the hairs on the back of my neck stand up straight. No.
That got me rushing to the foyer.
I thrust my head around the corner just in time to see Mom being enveloped into a hug by a tall man, whose lithe body was encompassed by a silky black suit. "Always the charmer, aren't you?" She said with a chuckle as she pulled away from him.
"You know me well."
Mom seemed to feel my presence, and as she turned towards me a huge smile lit up on her face, and so did that of the man in front of her.
It was him.
"Surprise, sweetheart." Mom said softly.
My eyes flickered to Nate, whose lips parted, and whose eyes drank me in like I was a chilled bottle of wine. However, at my less than excited expression, his smile faded.
"What are you doing here?" I whispered. His eyes briefly looked away before meeting mine again.
Mom's shrill laughter cut through the tension with a knife as she approached me and enveloped me in a large hug. "Isn't it a wonderful? I know you were devastated that he had to work over the holiday, but he was luckily able to get out of it and surprise you!" Her eyes gleamed happily.
"That's...great." I forced myself to say. There was never any talk of him working over Thanksgiving. I shook my head, attempting to smile brightly. "It's really great. Wow, I'm just so shocked by all of this."
Nate smiled back, but his eyes gave him away as he took a step towards us. "Rosalind, if it's alright with you, can I have a word with Lily, alone?"
She released me and looked between the two of us with a satisfied expression. "Well, I don't see why not. I'll go let the kids know that you're here."
With that, she exited the room all whilst humming to herself, completely oblivious.
The façade dropped immediately. He sighed heavily, giving me a forlorn look.
His features were still as handsome as ever, although they evoked feelings that were polar opposite to attraction. His overbearing presence made me nervous; why he was here was something I had yet to find out, and I wasn't sure I'd like the answer.
He took a tentative step forward. "Lily, I know what you're thinking — "
"Why did you come here, Nate?" My voice shook as I backed away from his suffocating closeness.
"I know you don't want me here." He whispered desperately as he stepped even closer, putting me on high-alert. "But I had to see you. I had to see the kids."
I wanted to tell him to leave, that I didn't care about what he wanted, but a sharp twinge of guilt pulled at me. Celia and Joseph were our kids, and I couldn't rightfully keep him away from them, no matter the problems that we were having. But I couldn't help but feel like he was tricking me by saying that, and the real reason he came was to persuade us to come back.
Nate's eyebrows were furrowed as he looked down at me. He hadn't moved an inch. "I'm sorry."
Stop.
"Mark and Julia wouldn't let me see you, you know." He shook his head as a small, bitter smile formed on his face. "They tried keeping me from my own damn kids. Do you have any idea what that feels like?"
The hurt in his voice was palpable.
"You could've reached out to me." I pointed out. "If you'd acted like you even wanted to see them, I wouldn't have stopped you. But instead you decided to barge into my mom's home. Are you serious?"
"Be honest with me, Lily." He gave me a look. "If I'd told you I was coming, would you really have just let it happen? You wouldn't have told your mom the truth?"
He had me there.
"And to address the other part of what you said, excuse me for wanting to see my own kids without someone constantly keeping tabs on me." The hurt seeped into his voice again. "I'm not a bad parent, Lily."
Involuntarily, my heart lurched.
In my silence, his gaze lowered to the floor as he sighed in resignation and mumbled, "I was hoping that if I made it to this point, we'd have a chance to talk. About us, everything."
I shook my head vehemently. I can't fall victim to his manipulation again. "If you think you're going to talk me out of divorce, you're surely mistaken."
"I'm not, I promise." He pleaded, as though I could trust anything that came out of his mouth.
"I don't even know why I'm trying to deal with this." I murmured, shaking my head again. "I could tell Mom about the divorce right now and get this over with."
His eyes went wide and wild. "Don't."
That brought back the pain and anger in full force. "You don't tell me what to do, ever." I snarled. "Not in my mother's house, and certainly not after what you've done."
He hushed me as his eyes darted around each and every corner of the foyer. "They'll hear us." He whispered emphatically.
Because that was all that mattered.
"God, you're an asshole, you know that?" I shook my head, taking a few steps back. "Never mind. This little reunion thing isn't going to work out today."
I prepared to walk out of the room, but a split-second later Nate was in front of me and gripping my forearm. I was about to scream just to get him away from me, but he leaned his head downward, and the sad gleam in his eyes was palpable.
"Lily, please don't do this. I'm already here, and I'll leave after dinner if you want." He lowered his voice to a soft whisper. "Just don't ruin their Thanksgiving, that's all I'm asking."
Again, the feeling of guilt ran rampantly through my body. I imagined sitting down to dinner and instigating an argument with him. Mom would look frantically between us until I blurted out that we were getting divorced. We would all scream at each other as the atmosphere morphed into chaos. Celia and Joseph would watch, tears streaming down their faces.
Even if I was making a huge mistake, I couldn't do that to them.
Nate continued. "And once I'm gone, you can tell your mom about the divorce. I'm not going to stop you. Alright?"
That was only slightly reassuring. "Alright." I whispered.
He let go of me then, backing up so we had a reasonable amount of distance between us. It looked like he wanted to say something else, but he didn't get the chance to.
"Daddy?" A diminutive voice spoke from the far corner of the room.
We turned our heads together, catching sight of little Joseph, whose big eyes had locked onto Nate, and sparkled.
Joseph squealed, rushing forward and jumping into Nate's arms. Celia followed not long afterward, and soon the three of them were enveloped into a tight hug, laughing as Nate struggled to hold them all.
"We missed you, Daddy." Joseph whispered into Nate's ear. Nate nearly buckled at that, and when I caught his eye again, I noticed that they were watery.
"I missed you too." Nate said gently, stroking their dark hair. He pressed a kiss on each of their foreheads, to which they giggled.
I saw Mom watching from the doorway, an equally vibrant smile on her face. Her eyes met mine as I walked over to her.
"There's nothing quite like the holidays." She said in a quiet, yet triumphant voice.
I nodded as I looked back at the children, who were tugging at Nate's hands and urging him to come play with them. A heaviness settled over my heart as I agreed, "Nothing quite like them."
* * *
The dinner itself came not long after Nate's arrival, at which we all sat impatiently at the dining room table as Mom proudly wheeled out dish after dish and deposited each one onto the table. In her true fashion, she refused any help, and soon the red tablecloth was completely covered with shining plates and steaming food.
Nate sat next to me, and across from us were Celia and Joseph. Mom would take her place at the head of the table, as she always did. The foot of the table, meanwhile, was empty and reserved for absolutely no one, and its presence, or lack thereof, was one I noted far more than usual.
The children oohed and aahed, snapping my attention away from the empty chair as I followed their eyes to Mom, who was bringing in the final dish — the turkey. It was big for a turkey, and its crisp, golden-brown skin looked shiny as it caught the light from the chandelier. A line of steam drew upwards from it, lifting towards the skies. I didn't usually consider meals to be beautiful, but this one was an exception: it was gorgeous.
"I think you've outdone yourself this time, Rosalind." Nate chuckled. "Everything looks wonderful."
"Oh, stop." She insisted with a smile as she took her place. "Now, let's all say grace, shall we?"
We all joined hands and lowered our heads as Mom began to speak in a soft tone, thanking God for us all being alive and well and able to enjoy the good she made. I didn't listen to most of it, as my mind was preoccupied with Nate's strong hold on my hand. It was more than polite, it was a desperate communication that he couldn't voice aloud, that I wouldn't mess this up. Even I wasn't positive about that.
It didn't help that Mom loved him so much. In the early days of our relationship, she told me time and time again that he would make a great husband. That much we could agree on, even if the timing wasn't. She would be completely invested in him and our marriage, and I couldn't be sure that after one-too many smiles and bouts of laughter I wouldn't break.
"Amen." I heard Nate mutter next to me.
"Amen." I said quietly.
Chatter erupted around the table, meanwhile I busied myself with the food. That made it easier to avoid being dragged into a conversation. I loaded my plate to the brim with turkey, stuffing, gravy, potatoes, cranberry sauce, rolls, and greens, and only when every inch of my plate was covered did I dig in.
A dark, yet familiar feeling kicked in, and it was no longer my desire to stray from the conversation that led me to eat as wildly as I did. I hadn't eaten like that in years. It was dangerous. I devoured everything faster than what was healthy, and soon I had bypassed my second plate and was onto my third. My plate was clean in mere minutes, and I instantly reached back out and loaded my plate with an equal, if not greater, amount of food before settling back again. This time, I caught Mom's attention.
"That's quite a lot of food, isn't it, dear?" She said, mirth brewing in her eyes. "Save some for the rest of us."
Nate shifted his attention to me as well, but the kids were totally engrossed in each other: Celia was subtly trying to smear mashed potatoes across Joseph's face, all while Joseph stuck his tongue out and taunted her. I looked back at Mom.
"I'm hungry." I said as simply as I could, trying not to let my nerves get the best of me. "And trust me, I don't think you'll be running out of food anytime soon."
With that, I once again tried to mind my own business and began scarfing my food down, but as Mom continued to watch me her playfulness faded, and in its place took a half-disappointed, half-worried, and half-angry look.
"Lily...are you binge eating again?"
And there it was. I threw my knife down and leaned over the table, head in my hands and shakiness ever-present in my stomach. It was more powerful than before. "No, Mom, I'm not binge eating." I said monotonously. "Not that it's a conversation for the dinner table anyways, but I'll forgive you."
Another one of the most infuriating things about my mother — she had no idea when to quit.
"Don't lie to me." She said flatly. "I know what binge eating looks like, Lily. When did this start happening again?"
"It hasn't. You're making a big deal out of nothing." I insisted.
She looked to Nate for support, but he just looked confused. "Binge eating?"
"I could've sworn I mentioned it to you sometime over the years." Mom frowned. "You really didn't know?"
Nate swung his head back over to me. "You never told me that you had an eating disorder."
He looked somewhat hurt.
Jesus Christ. I rolled my eyes. "That's because I don't have one. I had one, but that was sixteen years ago so I don't see why it matters now." I became exasperated. "And can we not have this discussion in front of our kids?"
Celia and Joseph were silent now, wide-eyed and staring at all three of us. Mom gave me an apologetic look.
"I'm sorry, Lily, that was inappropriate of me." You think? "I'd like to have a conversation with you later, though, if that's alright."
No it really wasn't. I didn't need to hear her worry over something I hadn't experienced since I was merely fifteen, a growing girl with more body issues than she could count. I didn't need to hear it, because I didn't want to believe that her concern was valid.
It was a one-time thing, that was all it was.
I didn't answer her, but I sat back, refusing to touch my food any longer. My stomach twisted at the sight of it, and I felt Nate's eyes linger on mine before he was dragged by my mother into yet another conversation.
"So, how's work going for you, Nate?" She asked quietly. "Everything at Westchester University still going well?"
Oh, I felt how he squirmed in his seat at that.
"Yes it is." He attempted to morph his voice into an excited, even proud one. "There aren't many surprises in being a teacher, but I'll take what I can get and I'll be happy."
Yeah, just like you took Georgina. That certainly made you happy.
"Oh, well, there must be something going on." Mom exclaimed.
"Nope, not really." He smiled wryly. "I'm just a boring old teacher. At least that's what the kids call me."
"You can't tell me that none of your students have taken a liking to you after all this time."
He hesitated.
I sensed that I wouldn't be able to keep my cool for much longer, so I keeled over and pressed my forehead against my hand, groaning.
"Lily, what's wrong?" Mom asked.
"Are you alright?" Nate echoed.
"I'm feeling kind of sick." I mumbled, frowning again. "I think I may have to go lay down for a bit. Feel free to finish without me."
Mom looked at me with an unwavering gaze as I stood up. "Are you sure that you're alright? I can call a doctor if you want — "
"No, no it's fine." I assured her. My eyes flickered to both Nate and the kids, who looked slightly worried. "My stomach just feels a little weird, that's all. Probably from all that food."
That probably wasn't the smartest thing to say. Mom's eyes hardened, but she didn't stop me as I left the room without another word. Neither did Nate.
I relaxed only slightly as I entered the living room and approached the staircase. The dark, intense feelings from earlier failed to cease, and now I honestly did start to feel kind of sick.
I walked quickly into my bedroom and jumped into bed, sighing heavily as I turned onto my back and rested my forearm over my eyes.
What the hell was I doing?
Resentment found its way into my heart, and I didn't have the strength to push it away. Most of it was aimed towards Nate for coming up unannounced in the first place, but a small portion of it was because of my mother, for conspiring with him, even though it wasn't her fault. Her bringing up memories from the past only worsened the resentment.
I stayed up there for who knew, possibly hours, until the soft light that streamed into the windows faded. The laughter I'd heard occasionally throughout that time ceased, and soon it was as lonely-sounding as I was. I tried to build the courage to go back downstairs, but always came short with the prospect that Mom would see me and demand we talk. Like a coward, I hid from it.
Eventually it was dark, and I knew that dinner had to have been over for a long time. Groggily, I sat up, and once again I mulled over the thought of going downstairs and just facing it like I knew I should.
This time, I didn't get the chance to shoot myself down.
Behind my bedroom door emerged a tall, shadowy figure who slipped into the room with ease. They closed the door behind themselves and flicked on the light.
We stared at each other.
And by the look on Nate's face, we weren't leaving without having a long discussion.
* * *
Hey guys!
Sorry it's been a little while since I last updated but I've actually been battling the flu for the past week so that has made it unbelievably hard to write. So, I hope you guys enjoy a super long chapter this time!
So, Nate is back. That didn't take him long lol. What do you guys make of his surprise arrival? And how do you think their discussion is going to go? Also, what do you make of Lily's previous eating disorder?
Hope you guys enjoy and love you all!
xoxo,
twyla