Chapter Fifteen
Blake
I hadn’t called ahead to tell my parents that I was bringing a guest to our Christmas celebration, but I didn’t worry because in my family, there was always room for one more at the table. Emily looked apprehensive as we pulled into the drive, but I smiled reassuringly and squeezed her hand before we headed into the house.
“Merry Christmas, Blake!” my mother called from the kitchen as Emily and I entered through the front door.
“How did you know it was me?” I laughed, as I slipped off my boots and hung our coats in the front hall closet.
“Because I’m already here, dumbass,” Brian said, as he emerged from the kitchen licking a spatula covered in what looked like cake batter.
“No fair, Mom!” I protested, as I crossed the room and tried to wrestle the spatula from my brother’s hand. Brian held it high above his head, and as I reached for it, he flung batter against the wall and across the floor.
“Brian and Blake!” my mother yelled, as she came out of the kitchen just in time to witness the mess being made. “What did I tell you two about messing up my…oh, hello! Who is this, Blake?”
“Mom, this is Emily Fowler; she’s Nina’s History teacher,” I said, as my mother raised an eyebrow and then immediately stepped forward to welcome Emily into her home.
“Emily, it’s so nice to meet you. Blake didn’t tell us he’d be bringing a friend,” my mother said, extending her hand. “Merry Christmas, and welcome to our home!”
“Thank you so much, Mrs. Gaston,” Emily said, shyly shaking my mother’s offered hand. “I…I…I…”
“Emily lost her house in a fire this morning, Mom,” I said, cutting into Emily’s attempt to explain why she was joining us on such short notice. My mother’s eyes widened, and I could tell she was reassessing the situation.
“Oh my goodness, you poor thing! Please, call me Ellie,” my mother said. “You lost everything?”
“Uh huh,” Emily nodded, looking down before adding, “except my cat. Blake saved him.”
“I’m so sorry,” my mother said, as she wrapped an arm around Emily’s waist and pulled her toward the kitchen saying, “Why don’t you come help me prepare dinner and let the boys set the table.”
“Awww, Mom,” Brian and I whined in unison.
“Don’t aww, Mom me,” my mother scolded. “You know where everything is. Get the table set and get your father out of the basement before you watch your games!”
Brian and I headed into the dining room and began pulling out the silverware and dishes that my mother saved for holiday meals and celebrations. We knew that setting the table would be infinitely easier than getting Dad out of his basement hideaway, and we also knew, from experience, that our mother wouldn’t let us get away with shirking our duties.
“So, you’re hot for teacher,” Brian said, as he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.
“Oh, shut up,” I said, rolling my eyes. “I felt bad for her. She didn’t have anywhere to go, and it’s Christmas, for God’s sake.”
“It doesn’t hurt that she’s incredibly attractive,” Brian shot back. “I’m sure that had absolutely nothing to do with your invitation.”
“Okay, fine, she’s attractive, and I’m attracted to her,” I grumbled, as we spread the tablecloth my mother had left out and began setting the table. “I’ve been attracted to her for a while, if you must know.”
“Oh really?”
“Yeah,” I said, as I used the edge of the tablecloth to polish a fork that looked dull.
“Don’t you boys use the tablecloth to polish the silverware! If you need a cloth, I’ve got one in the kitchen!” my mother shouted, from out of nowhere.
“How the hell does she do that?” Brian said, whipping his head around in time to see my mother walking into the dining room holding out a polishing cloth.
“I’m not kidding,” she warned.
Brian and I finished the task without saying another word, and then went downstairs to find our father. He was sitting on a stool behind his workbench carving a piece of wood with a small penknife. A cerebral man by training, he’d taken up woodcarving during the year that my parents had spent traveling in South America, and had made a habit of sequestering himself in the basement when he was working on a project.
“What are you working on these days, Dad?” I asked, as I snuck a peek at the small figures lined up on his workbench.
“I’m making a Nativity scene for your mother,” he said, carefully blowing the shavings off of what looked like a small cradle. “I’d intended to have it done well before today, but, well…”
He trailed off as he bent his head and applied the knife to the wood in silence. Brian and I watched him for a few minutes before we both grew restless.
“Blake brought a date to Christmas dinner,” Brian blurted out.
“Hmm, that’s nice,” my father said, without looking up. “Who is she?”
“He rescued her from a fire this morning,” Brian said, before I punched him in the shoulder. “Ouch! It’s true! Why are you punching me?”
“Because you’re a jerk,” I said, shooting him a warning look. “She’s Nina’s History teacher, and she didn’t have anywhere else to go.”
“Hmmm, well, that’s nice of you,” my father said. “I’m sure your mother will be happy for a bit of female company this year.”
My father lapsed into silence again as he worked on his belated gift, and after awhile, Brian nudged me and tilted his head toward the stairs. I nodded and followed him up to the den, where we turned on the football game. I went into the kitchen to grab a couple of beers and saw that Emily and my mother were silently working on putting together a salad.
“We’re watching the game, if you’re interested,” I said casually.
“The Patriots and the Jets or the Falcons and the Packers?” Emily asked.
“Patriots and Jets,” I said.
“There’s no way the Jets are going to beat them,” she replied. “They’ve got a weak defense, and their quarterback has a bad arm. The Patriots are going to take it all the way this year.”
“You like football?” I asked, surprised.
“Actually, the Celtics are my favorite team, but they never play on holidays,” she smiled, as she added several sliced tomatoes to the bowl of lettuce.
“Why don’t you go watch the game with the boys, Emily,” my mother said, giving me a hard look. “You’ve had a rough day and could probably use a break.”
“Oh, I don’t mind helping out,” Emily said, even though I could see the weariness in her eyes.
“Nonsense, if I need help, one of my devoted sons can take care of the task,” my mother said, raising an eyebrow. I nodded in understanding.
“BRIAN! MOM NEEDS YOUR HELP!” I yelled from the kitchen, sending both Emily and my mother into a fit of laughter.
“No fair!” came my brother’s indignant response. “I always have to do everything around here!”
I handed Emily one of the open beers and motioned for her to follow me into the den. Alone now, I put my arm around her and felt her shift so that she was leaning against me. Neither of us said a word as we watched the game and drank our beers.
Around halftime, I heard a car pull into the driveway, and I got up to go greet Nina and let her know that Emily was here. From the front door, I could see Remy sternly lecturing Nina, who sat staring out the passenger side window with her jaw set in defiance. I waved and saw Nina’s eyes light up as she turned and said something to her mother before quickly exiting the car. She grabbed her bag out of the back seat and slammed the door harder than necessary. I waved at Remy and saw the disapproving look on her face as she backed out and drove away.
“Hey kiddo,” I said, kissing the top of Nina’s head as I grabbed her bag. “You okay?”
“What do you think?” she asked in a flat tone.
“Yeah,” I nodded, as I wrapped an arm around her and headed for the house. “Hey, we’ve got a guest for dinner.”
“Oh yeah?” Nina perked up.
“Your History teacher, Ms. Fowler,” I said quickly.
“Are you serious, Dad?” Nina asked, stopping dead in her tracks. “Tell me you're pulling my leg.”
“I’m not, kiddo,” I said, shaking my head. “Her house burned down this morning, and she didn’t have anywhere else to go, so I asked her to join us for dinner.”
“Just fucking great,” Nina muttered.
“Nina!” I warned.
“Fine, I’ll be nice, but between you and Mom this holiday seriously blows,” she said, angrily storming up the walk into the house.
I followed her inside and watched as she grudgingly welcomed Emily before heading into the kitchen to find her grandmother. I shrugged at Emily, who smiled and shrugged back.