I’m sure Stanley did his best to answer in a respectful way, but his response was short and to the point. “Dad, I can’t speak for Mom. You need to talk to her yourself.”
Stan Sr. didn’t back down. “And how am I supposed to do that when she won’t even look at me?”
“She’s upset. Give her time,” Stanley said.
“Give her time?” Stan Sr. yelled as he charged at Stanley with an enraged face. “She’s acting like a child, running off without a word, coming here and crying on your shoulder, then flying out of this house like she’s become unhinged!”
Stanley stood his ground, never moving from the spot, never letting his own temper flare. “I’m sorry about what’s happened, but I can’t interfere.”
His calm attitude seemed to affect his father. For what felt like forever, Stan Sr. stood where he was, not uttering a word. Slowly the anger in his face began to fade. Finally, he turned to me. “Gloria, thank you for your kindness. And remember, if you need anything, let me know.”
After expressing those gentle words, he grabbed his coat off a chair, walked to the door and left the house.
I went over to Stanley and took his hand. “I’m here if you need to talk,” I said.
Stanley took me into his arms. “I’m sorry I left you here with my dad. I’ve rarely seen him this angry.”
I smiled up at him. “He was a peach while you were gone. He made me breakfast and was as gentlemanly as could be.”
Stanley let out a breath. “Good, I’m glad he didn’t do anything to upset you. If he did, he wouldn’t be welcome here.”
“Stanley, I’m sure he loves your mom, and from what I could tell, he’s very confused and deeply hurt by what’s happening.”
“Mom has always been one to let him have the last word. This is all new territory when it comes to their relationship.”
“Did you get a chance to speak to your mom?”
“We only talked for a few minutes. She said she woke up yesterday in the middle of the night and decided she couldn’t keep living with my dad anymore. After that, she said she wanted time to be alone. I got the message and left.”
“I have an idea. My father invited us over for a Thanksgiving leftovers dinner. Call your mom and ask her if she’d like to go with us.”
“What about my dad? I didn’t let him know it, but I’m worried about him.”
“Of course you are. He’s your dad. Give him a little while to come back to himself. Then call him and find out what his plans are.”
Stanley did as I suggested. When he talked to his father, Stan Sr. said he was checking into a motel. He also said he was tired and wanted to get some sleep. He’d reconnect with us the next day. A little later, Stanley’s mom declined the dinner invitation.
After hearing from both of the Bickermans, I didn’t say anything to Stanley, but I secretly celebrated the idea of going to my Dad’s for a yummy dinner. My stomach has always tried to rule my life and being pregnant has made food an even bigger priority.
That afternoon, Stanley and I did more decorating. While Stanley put up lights outside, along the roof line, I made sure that all the bedrooms had some holiday flair going on. By evening, I was tired and hungry. Since I’m aware of how I can become cranky under those conditions, I couldn’t let myself act out with Stanley. But he knows me and insisted on making me a healthy shake. He’s researched lots of smoothie recipes on theinternet, and he quickly whipped up one of my favorites that included banana, strawberries and surprisingly, some handfuls of spinach.
Later, when we arrived at dad’s house, I didn’t know what to expect. What kind of decorating had he been doing?
Dad greeted us with a satisfied look on his face. “I got bit by the Christmas bug,” he said, “but you two are the experts, so don’t judge my style too harshly.”
When we walked into the living room, I was instantly impressed by his live Christmas tree. White lights were strung round and round the sparse branches. Shiny, metal silver and gold snowflakes sparkled here and there, reminding me of how much I hoped we’d get more of the real thing very soon. The minimalist look of the tree fit Dad’s style. His modern furnishings included a tan, soft leather sectional couch, matching chairs and a round, coffee table with a black finish.
Ben noticed the tree too. As soon as Stanley put him down, the pup ran over to inspect some low hanging decorations. His tail quivered, and he let out a cheerful bark.
My dad gave me a knowing look. “I remember when Stanley gave you Ben last Christmas. He was still a young puppy, but he did like your tree. I think mine is making him happy too.“
Dad’s tree was wonderful, but tantalizing smells from the kitchen called to me. I soon stood at the stove with anticipation. I lifted the lids off of each of the pots and let a sense of eagerness fill my body. I loved holiday leftovers as much as the Thanksgiving dinner itself. The baby must have sensed my surge of happiness because I felt a gentle kick. It was a reminder that Stanley and I would soon be proud parents.
After a satisfying meal, the three of us sat around in the living room. When Dad dimmed the main lighting, the tree came alive. Its white lights and shiny snowflakes made it especiallybeautiful. Ben was asleep in his bed. Like Mom, Dad bought a comfy bed for our little canine friend.
I tried to make conversation, but my eyelids were soon heavy too. I’d been careful not to overindulge in food, so it wasn’t a food coma. However, it had been an emotionally, taxing day. Stanley noticed my drowsiness, and we were soon in the car and heading home. It felt great to climb into bed, pull the covers up and let the day’s events slip away.
Ten
