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Idecide to kill some time in Greywall since I’m not booked for a job for a few months. With Grandma on her trip to Hawaii with Ethel’s family, I don’t feel as much guilt as normal at the idea of seeing my parents. I shouldn’t feel guilty, I know, but they’ve all put me in the middle of this family feud. I feel guilty when I’m with my grandma and I feel guilty when I’m with my parents. There’s no winning.
Walking into my childhood home, the smell of oil paints is a welcoming scent and reminds me of better times, when our family dynamic wasn’t as strained as a piano wire. My dad always painted, even when the company was still in the family. Back then it was just a hobby.
“Mom? Dad?” I call.
No one answers because more than likely, they’re in two different rooms.
I head to my mom’s workspace first, knocking lightly before opening the door. Her music of choice—which is soft jazz—is playing, so I assume she’s lost in creating her art. Rounding the corner, I anticipate finding her on her stool, a streak of paint in her dark, curly hair.
“Mom?”
“Noah?” Her voice sounds strained.
“Yeah.” I continue around the corner into her little makeshift art studio. “Oh god!”
My mom is on a divan, legs spread open and her hand… oh Jesus. I circle around and head in the other direction.
“Give us a second,” she calls, but I’m already out the door.
I walk right to the kitchen and open the fridge, looking for any drop of alcohol I can find, but of course there’s nothing. After watching his dad drink too much growing up, he vowed never to have alcohol in the house. So I settle for a Coke and sit at the kitchen table, hoping like hell that image will one day leave my mind.
“He’s old enough to understand his parents have sex, Ursula.” My dad’s voice is the first I hear. “Not to mention it’s art. I was drawing your beautiful figure.”
“Oh come on, Rex, you know as well as I do, no boy wants to see his mother with her legs spread open.”
I wince, staring at my hands clasping the Coke can in front of me. Their footsteps approach and they each sit in a chair opposite me.
My mom reaches out and I pray it’s not the hand she was… oh hell, I can’t even think about it. “I’m sorry, Noah. We weren’t expecting you.”
“It was a surprise visit.”
“Well, a call would be nice,” my dad says.
I look at him. “Like I said, I was surprising you.”
My dad rolls his eyes and I down a hefty gulp of my drink.
“What brings you by?” my mom asks, always the bridge between my dad and me.
I shrug. “I’m around for a little bit. Thought I’d see how you two are doing.”
“And how was Bali?” My mom leans back in her seat, crossing her legs and pulling her robe over her bare limbs.
“Could you put some clothes on?” I cringe.
She sighs but stands. “I’ll be right back.” She places her hand on my shoulder and disappears down the hall of my parents’ modest ranch-style home.
“Do you need money?” my dad asks once my mom is gone.
I haven’t asked him for anything since I graduated college and needed to borrow money for a decent used camera.
I look hard at him. “No. Why would you ask that?”
“Because you don’t usually like spending time with us. From what I’ve gathered over the years, you prefer to be with your grandma.”
I blow out a breath and massage my temples for a second. Here we go again. “No, I’m just constantly stuck between the two of you.”
He says nothing, knowing it’s the truth. Ever since my grandpa died when I was seventeen, my close-knit family imploded, fracturing into two sides, with me in the middle. Grandma sold off the family company and moved into Northern Lights Retirement Center and my dad has resented her ever since.
