Inching along intheArrivalslane at the airport, I turn up the radio to help bring some calmness to my mind. My parents are the best, but too much of them will drive anyone crazy. Plus, I’m anxious because I don’t know how this is all going to go when we get home. Me and Cyn can’t set horses now, so how are we going to be civil with each other in front of my folks? I shouldn’t care, I really shouldn’t, but I do. I’ve never disappointed them. My mother would probably faint if she knew Cyn left me. And my father, he’d look at me with disappointment and then brag about how he was able to keep the same woman for years on end as if that wasn’t my goal.
Tapping on the steering wheel, I inch along to Kendrick, wishing airport traffic wasn’t so bumper-to-bumper crazy.
After another five minutes, I pull over to the side where I see them standing. They’ve never seen this new Denali I’m driving, so I roll the tinted window down on the passenger side and say, “What’s up, old man?”
“Hey,” Dad says with a chuckle, his face beaming.
“Hey, Brixton!” my mother shouts. She’s dressed for a blizzard, earmuffs and all. I’m sure it was colder up north than it is here. Maybe she didn’t check the forecast. It’s sixty-four degrees, and she looks like she’s in Antarctica.
I press the button to open the liftgate and get out. I walk over to my father and throw my arms around him. He hugs me tight and slaps me on the back twice.
“Oh, it’s so good to see you, my boy.”
“Good to see you too, Pops.”
“Unhand my son so I can get a proper hug,” Mom says all dramatically like she’s auditioning for a role in Bridgerton.
“Look at this—she’s starting already,” Dad grumbles.
“Brixton, oh my goodness. There’s my handsome son,” she says as she secures a hug so tight, I feel like I’m permanently trapped in her arms and that perfume she’s wearing.
And she’s showing no signs of letting me go. She’s so layered, I feel like I’m just hugging her coat. She’s lost somewhere inside it.
My parents moved to Rhode Island four years ago, where they had always wanted to retire. Believe it or not, he loves snow. She loves water, so they got the best of both worlds, though now that’s all they complain about when I call during the winter months – the snow.
Hercoatreleases me, then she immediately wraps her arms tight around me again like she’s intentionally trying to cause me bodily harm. After releasing me for a second time, freeing me from suffocation, she says, “And what’s this on your face? Huh? Since when do you wear a beard? My distinguished, handsome doctor doesn’t wear a beard.”
And so it begins…
“It’s good to see you, too, Mother,” I tell her, wondering what she means bywearinga beard as if I purchased it and put it on like she did that puffer jacket she’s wearing.
“Faith, get on in this car,” my dad says, holding the door. “We’re holding up the line.”
“Yeah,” I say. “We’d better get moving.”
“Woo, I have to get this coat off first, honey. It’s hot down here compared to Coventry.”
Dad tells her, “I told you not to put on that glorified comforter before we left the house.”
“Oh, hush. It’s better to be safe than sorry.”
I secure their suitcases in the back, then close the liftgate and send Cyn a warning text to let her know I’m heading back. I get inside, close the door, shift the whip intodrive, and brace myself. It’s not so much my father that gets to me. I love my mother dearly, but she can be a bit overbearing at times. I know she means well with her unwanted suggestions, but some of them are wild. When I bought my home – mysix-bedroomhome – she said she would’ve chosen abiggerone. She usually picks my home apart when she visits. If she doesn’t like the curtains, a certain rug, or the place settings on the dining room table, she’s very loud and vocal about it.
But she absolutely loves Cyn. Said I couldn’t have chosen a better wife. That’s mainly why I needed Cyn to do this for me. If my mother found out we weren’t together, she’d erupt like a volcano showing signs of unrest.
“So, how’s life in Christenbury Hills?” Dad asks.
“Life’s good,” I say.
Some aspects of that are true, but there’s a lot that isn’t.
“That’s alright,” he says, sounding satisfied and content. “Your Mama ready to get up in that kitchen. That’s all she’s been talking about on the flight down here.”
“Stop your lying, Dean. I ain’t have time to talk about cooking. I had to babysit you on the waydown here. You know your Dad is still scared to fly after all these years, Brix?”
“Oh, yeah?” I ask, glancing through the rearview mirror to see her face briefly. She’s looking in a compact, adding another layer of lipstick on, and she’s still wearing the earmuffs. How do you take off a coat and hat but forget the earmuffs? I glance over at my father in the passenger seat. He’s cool as a fan. He cares nothing about what she’s saying.
“Yeah, he is,” she says. “He nearly peed himself.”
