Chapter Ten
Preston
“The party is a week away,” I groaned. “Do we really need to do all of this today?”
Melody pursed her lips together, with her hands on her hips, the disapproving look on her sour face more than clear. She was a small woman, but I'd learned that it was always best to never let her ever hear you say that. Standing at just around five feet even, she was one of the smallest women I'd ever dated. Yet, what she lacked in size, she more than made up for in personality.
Her blonde hair was pulled back into a fancy twist, every highlighted strand in place. Large frame black glasses that were almost too large for her small, heart-shaped face rested on the edge of her nose. She had a checklist and together, we were going over everything – one item at a time. You'd think we were planning our wedding all over again or something. But no, we were just planning a soon to be seven year old's birthday party.
“You know, when I was a kid –”
Melody stopped me by raising one perfectly manicured hand.
“That was then, this is now, Preston,” she snapped, her tone cold and imperious. “And Carter goes to a private school – which means we need to go above and beyond to impress everyone who attends.”
“I think a bounce house, cake and ice cream would impress any seven-year-old,” I muttered, looking at the seemingly never-ending list of tasks. “Are we really going to have pony rides? Seriously?”
She sighed, pushing her glasses up higher on her nose. “No, actually, I couldn't get the permit in time,” she said. “So see? We're already not living up to the Godfrey's party. And let's not forget that Alistair's party was the social event of the season.”
“They're seven, Melody. Do you know what I was doing at seven?” I asked, and when she didn't answer, I told her anyway. “I was riding bikes with friends. Playing baseball. At seven years old, I sure as hell wasn't giving a damn about social events or impressing anyone but my friends. And all I had to do to impress them was share my comic book stash with them.”
She scowled and started to berate me when Carter, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, came down the stairs. His smile widened when he saw us together at the table, and he ran over, throwing his arms around his mom, wrapping her up in a big hug.
While Melody and I didn't always see eye-to-eye on things – most everything, truth be told – the one thing I always admired about her was how much she loved our son. “Are you guys talking about my birthday party?” he asked, straining to see what his mom was writing in her notebook.
She kept it hidden and gave him a coy smile. “Wouldn't want to spoil the surprise, would we?”
“Please tell me at least one thing, will you?” he asked, flashing her his wide eyes and best sad puppy dog look.
“Depends. What do you want to know?” Melody asked, her face looking much friendlier than before Carter entered the room.
“Am I getting the new Twisted Rabbit game?” she asked brightly. “Please? Pretty please?”
“See?” I motioned toward Carter. “Easy to please.”
Melody shot me a look that would have frightened most grown men – and probably should have frightened me too. But, I was either not all that bright, or knew Melody far too well, because I knew she'd never actually do anything to back that glare up. She wasn't a fighter. At least, not physically so. She could eviscerate you with her words, but I’d had years of practice of building up a tolerance to that, so it didn't sting anywhere near as bad anymore.
I turned back toward the task Melody had assigned me – which was painting a sign that welcomed everyone to Carter's party.
“I can't tell you that, silly,” Melody said, ruffling Carter's hair. “Now go on. Don't you have homework to do?”
“It's Saturday!” he grumbled.
“Better than doing it all tomorrow night at the last minute, right?” she asked. “Better to be prepared, isn't it? That way, you don't have to stress about it later.”
I butted in, because I never did seem to learn, “I dunno. I made it through college and medical school by waiting until the last minute,” I chuckled, but Melody elbowed me hard, in the ribs, “But you know, Carter, I could have made better choices and saved myself a lot of trouble.”
She smiled on the outside, but her eyes were filled with irritation. Which was typical. I was used to her baleful looks by that point. She knew better than anyone that we Winters men were procrastinators. But, thankfully, we were also geniuses who could handle the pressure. Or, at least, that's what I'd always told myself. She had been there, beside me, shoulder to shoulder, all the way through medical school. As stressful as it was, those had been far happier times.
It seemed like so long ago now – and a bit like life on a different world.
“Before I do my homework, can I show you one thing, pretty please?” Carter asked.
I cut a quick glance at Melody but didn't wait for a response. “Sure thing, buddy,” I said. “What is it?”
“Come outside, I'll show you!” he shouted, rushing toward the front door.
Melody looked at me, and I said, “What? How could you say no to that face?”
“He looks just like you, and I say no to you all the time,” she said, hurrying toward the door herself.
Had I known better, I would have assumed she was joking. But one look at her face told me she wasn't. Melody was too serious for her own good. It was one of her major shortcomings in this life. That and caring far, far too much about what people thought of her. It had been that way through med school, and it had only gotten worse as we'd gotten a bit older.
The whole birthday party thing was only the latest example, and I feared it would only get worse as our son got older. She was always trying to keep up with the Joneses – if not, one up them.
“Come on, dad!” Carter yelled for me.
“I'm coming,” I laughed, putting down the paintbrush and wiping my hands on my pants.
Melody's list was almost two pages long and seemed to be growing longer by the second. Still, we had to make time for the birthday boy. It was, after all, the sole reason we were going through this whole ordeal to begin with. When I stepped outside into the warm California sunshine, I found my son riding his bike in the driveway and Melody standing off to the side, smiling as wide as I'd ever seen her smile.
“Watch this, I can do a wheelie!” Carter shouted.
Oh God, let's just be thankful I'm a doctor, I thought to myself as Carter pulled his small bike into a wheelie with ease. He laughed and waved, and for the first time in a long time, a genuine smile crossed my lips and a laugh bubbled up in my throat.