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My knee is bouncing uncontrollably as we all sit down for dinner. Their anniversary party is tomorrow so we came home tonight to have this conversation in private. Monica is home as well but I’m unsure if it’s for moral support or to have a front row seat for the show. James and I are seated next to each other on one side of the table, Monica is on the other and my parents are on each end. The room is quiet, all of us knowing something that only my mother doesn’t but she picks up on it instantly.
“Why is everyone so quiet? I know my cooking isn’t that good.” She jokes before taking a sip of her chardonnay. I smile, because her cooking is that good and also because it might be the last time I smile tonight.
“The kids have something to talk to us about.” My dad says and he winces, my guess at his choice of words. “Well James and Gabrielle have something to say.” He leans back in his chair and motions towards us as if to say ‘well, out with it.’
Monica looks at me and gives me a small smile and a wink and I’m choosing to read it as ‘You got this. I’m with you.’”
“Mom, I hope what we’re about to share isn’t going to change how you see us.” I start and I can already feel the tears forming in the back of my throat. “I am sorry if this changes how you see me.”
“That could never happen, sweet girl.” She grabs my hand as I’m seated closest to her and gives it a squeeze. “Now tell Mama, what’s up.”
“So…” James picks up his glass of whiskey and takes a healthy sip. He holds it tightly in his grasp, twirling the ice around the glass. The sound of the ice clinking is the only sound to be heard except for maybe the pounding in my chest that I can hear in my ears. “Mom, Gabrielle and I are together,” he blurts out like he’s ripping off a Band-aid.
I squeeze my eyes shut, preparing for the worst when I don’t hear anything. I open one eye and look at my mother who’s staring at us with wide eyes.
“I’m sorry, I swear I’ve only had two of these.” She says pointing at her glass of wine. “What did you say?”
“I know how this sounds and—” James starts.
“Did you know about this?” She cuts him off and stares at my father.
“Are you serious? How is that your first question? And why am I the one getting heat for this?” He asks. “Monica knew too.” He points at her and her head snaps towards him.
“DAD!”
“If I go down, I’m taking you down with me.” He points at Monica and despite the very intense environment, I resist the urge to chuckle at their banter.
“CALVIN!” My mother yells. “I’ll deal with you in a second,” she says pointing at Monica. “How? When?” She says turning back to us.
“To be fair, Dad just found out last weekend.” I interject. “We asked that he give us a chance to tell you and we wanted to do it in person.”
“Well thank you for your consideration?” She scoffs before rubbing her eyes. “I gave up smoking before you were born Monica and I haven’t needed one until right this second.” She lets out a breath. “How?”
I notice in my periphery my father gets up and goes into the kitchen. Moments later, he’s back with a ball point pen. “Here, I don’t want you biting your nails and you know how you get.” He hands the pen to my mother and instantly she draws it to her mouth and I stare at her curiously.
“It helps with the urge but this is not about me or this.” She points the pen at us. “Speak.”
“Well—”
“Actually no, first question is when?” Her gaze is hard and cold as she stares at James and I can hear the meaning behind her question.
“I was eighteen.” I answer instantly. “Last Christmas.” I clarify.
“Well thank God for small favors!” Her voice is high, bordering on shrill and I wince at the tone of her voice. “This has been going on for ten months?” I nod, not knowing what to say.
“How long have you known?” She looks at Monica. “Why didn’t you tell me? OR YOU dear husband of mine and father of the children in question?”
My father doesn’t answer and Monica clears her throat. “I’ve known for… a while.”
“What’s a while?” My mother probes.
She pushes her glasses up on her nose. “Pretty much since it started, if you must know.”
“And you’re just fine with it?”
“I was not at first. I had a very similar reaction.” Monica looks at me. “Actually no, I yelled a lot.”
“Gabrielle, I saw the way you looked at James. I found your diaries when you were a child with his name scribbled on every page. I knew you had a crush on him but I never thought…” she trails off. “And James, when did you start seeing her differently?”
