Part of Charlie’s acclimation to the modern world has included us working our way through the American Film Institute’s list of the top 100 movies of all time. For obvious reasons, we will skipTitanic. This week’s selection isThe Godfather.
“We go to the mattresses,” I mumble, quoting the movie in a terrible attempt at a Sicilian accent as I head toward the front door.
I grab the doorknob and quickly open it. A woman stands across from me with a canvas tote bag over her shoulder. Her eyes widen as our gaze meets. She nervously brushes a brown curl behind her ear. I inhale sharply, and she notices my startled expression.
“Hi. I’m sorry to intrude.” She takes a deep breath. “My name is—”
“Mom?” She steps back, as if surprised I recognized her.
“Alice.”
“Wh-what are you doing here?”
She looks terrified. “I came to apologize. You can shut the door in my face. I understand if you do. But I’d like to explain myself, if you’ll let me.”
I wasn’t expecting this tonight, or ever. She’s right though. I can just shut the door in her face. This is my house. My life. I can move on as if this never happened. I’ve already put this chapter behind me. I’ve putherbehind me. I don’t need explanations for why she left. I don’t need apologies. I’ve grown, and I’ve found peace.
I want to shut the door, and my hand is almost ready to push it, until something in my heart reminds me that while I have found peace, maybe she hasn’t. Despite all the anger and resentment I carried against her for years, I just feel pity for her right now.
“Come on in.”
Her eyes brighten when I invite her inside, as if she wasn’t expecting to make it past the metaphorical front gate. Truthfully, I’m surprised at myself.
She steps into the foyer and looks up at the crystal chandelier. I watch as her eyes sweep over the entryway and into the front den.That’s where you put me when you left me. Do you remember?She inhales slowly, as if nervous about proceeding. I notice her hands are shaking, like stepping back into this house is difficult for her.Good. I hope you’re uncomfortable.I take a deep breath and her perfume hits me. She still smells like lilies. The reminder makes me feel four years old again.
“Can we talk? I thought this might help.” She reaches into her tote bag and pulls out a bottle of red wine. Despite not seeing each other in over twenty years, at least that she's aware of, we somehow have the same taste in wine.
“Yeah,” I say curtly. I’m still unsure what this is about and I’m doing my best to keep a tough exterior. “Kitchen is this way.” I motion toward the hall that leads to the kitchen and living room.
“I remember.”Right. This was your house once too.Thanks for the reminder.The temperature between us is freezing. I don’t want to punish her with harsh words, despite the urge to get a few deserved barbs in. I swallow the sarcastic comment I feel coming up my throat.
She follows behind me silently to the kitchen. Neither of us knows what to say to break the ice.
As we approach the kitchen, Charlie is standing at the counter making himself a cup of tea.
“Who was at the door?” He asks without looking up. I clear my throat to get his attention. He looks up and seems surprised that someone is behind me. “Oh, I’m sorry.” He pulls the tea bag from the cup and tosses it into the garbage. “I didn’t realize we had company.”
“This is my mother, Katherine.” Charlie’s eyes widen as he tries to keep his jaw from hitting the floor. His eyes immediately search mine, as if he instinctively wants to know I’m okay. “Mom, this is my husband, Charlie.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Charlie.” She smiles as she extends her hand out to him.
“It’s nice to meet you as well.” He looks at me with a confused expression.
She sets the wine down on the counter. I pat Charlie’s arm gently. “Could you reach some glasses down for us?”
He pulls the glasses down from the top shelf of the cupboard as I rummage for the corkscrew. He leans over close to my ear and whispers, “Do you want me to stay with you, love?”
“No, I’ll be okay. I need to do this,” I whisper back. I love him for wanting to support and protect me, but this is something I need to do alone. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Mom running her hand down the doorframe of the kitchen, her fingers tracing the notches of my growth over my childhood, as if measuring every year she lost with me.
“Alright. I’m headed downstairs to the workshop,” he says in a louder voice. “It was lovely to meet you, Katherine.”
She smiles warmly at him. “You as well.”
He slips his hand around my waist. “You sure you’re okay, love?” I smile and nod. He presses his lips gently to my forehead. “I love you,” he whispers.
He heads downstairs, and I direct my attention to opening the bottle of wine. “He seems lovely,” she says as she sits down in the living room.
“He is,” I answer quietly, without looking up.
