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And when we got home, though, that was the end for me. I picked the fight for all ages with my mother. We were barely in the door before I refused to take off my coat and boots. I shouted that I was going for a walk, and that I’d rather live on the streets than spend another night under the same roof with them. My mother told me to get inside. I refused. And then everything came out: The misery of being at yet another stranger’s house. The frustration of having to be on my best behavior all the time lest another one of my mother’s relationships fail because Meghan and I weren’t putting in enough effort. That I was sure it was all her fault my real father had left and that Toly was here today and gone tomorrow, and on and on.
Meghan tried to calm me down, but I pushed her away, hard. Toly grabbed me then, held my arms so tight they were bruised for days, and said I was nothing but a useless, spoiled kid who didn’t know how good I had it. The angrier I became, the quieter my mother grew. Meghan slumped down against the wall and cried—but Toly and I screamed and shouted at one another. I had all the fury of a teenage girl on my side, but he held up to my hurricane like no one before or since. My temper was cruel and exacting until he slapped me across the face for calling my mother a coward for latching onto a man who’d rather pick a fight with a girl than a woman.
We left the next morning and stayed for a week in a freezing hotel on the Lake Shore that had seen better days and was filled with Johns and Joes before my mother dragged us back to him for another miserable few months until Carl arrived. To this day, all parquet flooring reminds me of that apartment, its scuffed white walls with black rubber trim, its ancient windows so scratched that no amount of cleaning could spiff them up.
We tried to put the Toly Incident, as it came to be known, behind us, and we celebrated New Year’s Eve a week late with a lasagna dinner when he was working—my mother made sure we wrote down our resolutions, and number one on her list was “Appreciate my kids.”
Things weren’t great after that, but they didn’t get worse.
My mother interrupted my train of thought. “Who wants coffee? Or some tea?”
“I could murder a cup of tea,” Annie said. Carl said he’d also love a cup of tea, if my mother could find the teapot.
“I know exactly where the teapot is, my darling husband. I do not have senior moments about the teapot. I always put it in the same place.You, my lovely man, always put the teapot back in the wrong place, which is whyyoucan never find it.”
Carl laughed. “Good thing I have you around to always find my teapot.”
“Gagging over here, enough about your teapot,” I said. “Coffee for me. Please.”
“This late at night?”
“Yes, mother, this late at night,” I replied. “But I’ll settle for decaf if you’re not willing to make me real coffee.”
“Decaf for anyone else?”
Rob nodded, and Jason said that he’d have tea. With everyone’s orders straight, my mother left the room. My stepbrothers took the opportunity to meander down to the basement where there was a second TV. Soon, the sounds ofThe Godfatherechoed up the stairs.
Coffee carafe in one hand, teapot in the other, my mother returned. “Meghan, the mugs are on the kitchen table. Can you grab them? It’s not good for you to sit for so long.”
Meghan rolled her eyes, but stood up as asked. “I’ll help,” I offered, but my sister told me to sit back down.
“Rob,” Carl asked, “are you in the office through the week, or have they shut down?”
“The markets never sleep, and neither do we,” Rob joked. “I’m scheduled to be back in bright and early on the twenty-seventh to catch up to what’s happened overseas during the time difference. Kelly’s got the week off, though. We’re having a grown-up dinner party with her work friends.”
And Garrett will see the ring. And I will meet Garrett’s girlfriend. And Rob will meet them both. And they’ll both meet Rob.
Panic spread throughout my body, like I was drowning in discomfort. If I wore the ring, it would be real. It would be more than a quick text meant to hurt Garrett’s feelings, meant to show him that Rob was my real life, and that Garrett was someone I hung out with to fill the time at work. But I didn’t know how I felt. At all.
My mother’s eyes grew wide, and she cocked her head to the side. She passed the teapot to my stepfather to pour tea for himself and Annie, then she poured coffee for us into mugs.
“Calm down, Mother,” I said. “We’re having people for dinner but I’m not cooking. I’ve ordered the food already. We’re having Indian food from down the street.”
“Spare ribs!” she shouted.
Laughter erupted. Annie giggled so hard she almost spilled her tea. My mother loved this story. I had been upset after having a particularly terrible fight with my boyfriend at the time. I’d stormed home, thrown down my backpack, and collapsed in front of the television. Then I remembered that my mother had left me explicit instructions to make the spareribs for dinner—boil them, cover them in some sauce she’d put in the fridge, then throw them in the oven.
I managed step one. Giant pot, lots of boiling water. Then I fell into the never-ending cushion of self-help television, my head spinning about something the boy had said to me, and forgot about the ribs. By the time I noticed, smoke was filling the first floor of the house. I had boiled all the water out of the pot and the bones were smoking the house out. When my mother opened the door, with Carl two steps behind her, she shook her head. It had taken days to get the smell of boiled down to nothing meat and bones out of the kitchen. My extreme inability in the kitchen was a family joke at every gathering.
“Actually, Linda, Kelly’s come a long way in the kitchen,” Rob said. “She actually makes her own cereal—opens up the box and pours the milk and everything.”
“This is why I live in the big, bad city. So I don’t have to cook. It’s how I stay so svelte.”
“You won’t be young forever,” my mother replied, as ever pointing out the obvious. “Some better habits might be a good idea.”
“Merry Christmas!” I said, trying hard not to be snide. “Did I mention that I’m engaged? Let’s change the subject. Right, pick on Meghan for a while.”
“We’re not done with you yet, Kelly-kins. You’ll want to eat well before the wedding, drop those last five pounds that have been hanging around since university. I read about this great new diet. Instead of cutting down on foods, you cut out. It’s calledcleansing. I’ve gotten Carl started on it already. We went into Kensington Market and bought a whole kit! We’re all set up for a few days after Christmas.”
