A Forbidden Christmas
Chapter One
Sophie
Somehow when my mother told me that she wanted me to meet her at her favorite restaurant for dinner I didn't envision a place with a multicolored strobe light and a cage in the corner. And, yet, here I was.
I had moved away from home several years before my mother moved to another town, so it left us scattered and leading lives in worlds that the other didn't understand. I was even more aware of that as I stepped through the door into air thick with the smell of perfumes, sweat and spilled liquor. I didn't really know what it was that I was expecting. It had been more than two years since I had seen my mother and imagine my surprise when she not only told me that she wanted to see me, but asked me to visit her because she had something to tell me. This was my first night in her town and as I was driving in she gave me the address to her favorite place. Somewhere in my mind, I had my reservations. I knew my mother. I had come to accept that she wasn't ever going to be the mother that cooked a hot meal, baked cookies or made any other domestic show when her only daughter came to visit. This, however, was taking it a step further than I had ever experienced with her.
Hearing that she wanted me to have dinner with her brought to mind the expectation of an actual restaurant. It might not have been elegant or even staffed by real waiters, but it would involve tables, menus, and actual food. I stepped further into the room and felt like the universe was taunting me. There were tables. They each accommodated a maximum of three very well-acquainted adults and I could already see that I was going to have to climb up the side of the backless stools just to sit at them. As for menus, there was a chalkboard hanging on the wall with words scrawled across it that I supposed could qualify as a menu. If it was a cafe or a trendy little place that focused all of their offerings on the local foods that they were able to source that day, it would have been totally acceptable. Somehow, though, I didn't think that I would be seeing whoever was lurking in the kitchen in the back of this place browsing the farmer's market anytime soon. Their concept of local was much more likely to be the freezer case in the nearest warehouse store.
"Are you coming or going?"
I realized that I had been standing just inside the building as I contemplated my surroundings and now there was a group of men standing behind me looking impatient as they waited to get all the way inside. I looked back at them and saw a particularly surly looking member of the crew glaring at me.
"Excuse me?"
"You're in my way."
I cocked my hip and looked him up and down.
Who the hell did he think he was?
"I'm sorry," I said. "I didn't mean to hinder your ability to get shit-faced and run away from the misery of your pathetic life."
The rest of the men snickered under their breath as their evidently self-appointed leader straightened, squaring his shoulders and pushing his biscuits and gravy-augmented chest toward me.
"Why don't you just move?"
"I think I'm enjoying standing right here. It has a lovely view of the whole bar and I can have easy access to all of the amenities." I glanced over my shoulder toward the other side of the room. "I see another door right over there. Why don't you just walk around the building and come in through there?"
I didn't know what it was about this man that was aggravating me so much. I usually wasn't that much of a raving bitch when I first met someone, but something about him just seemed to be bringing it out in me. In the back of my mind I knew that a lot of it had to do with the anticipation of seeing my mother again. Gloria and I had had what some people would refer to as a tumultuous relationship. I described it more of like a carnival show. From the time I was old enough to go to school, I was getting myself up in the morning and making my own lunch, before walking to the bus stop. Once I hit my double digits I was also making dinner for both of us and keeping the house clean. There was never any worry about her struggling to raise me because I was already raising her. Watching the disaster that was her never-ending cycle of men was enough to keep me from ever wanting to run wild in high school. I also just didn't have the time. It was exhausting enough just trying to keep track of her and make sure that she didn't end up on one of the unsolved murder shows that made up much of my late-night viewing as I waited up for her.
The dark, somewhat bitter thoughts were nothing new, but they seemed heightened now that I was standing there facing down the man. I didn't hate my mother. I didn't even dislike her. There were plenty of times when we had had a lot of fun together. There came a time, however, when I had to accept that I wasn't ever going to be able to compete with whatever new man came into her life and brought about the next change in her personality. That was the thing about my mother. I felt like I’d had ten or twelve of them in my life. She had a basic baseline personality, but then if the man she met clashed with that or had a stronger lean toward another personality, lifestyle, or hobbies, that was what my mother became. It seemed to happen overnight, suddenly transforming her into a different person who was the ideal woman for that new man in her life, but a virtual stranger to me. It was one of those transformed versions of her that eventually drove me away and kept me in my own life until now.
"I suggest you get yourself moving along," my new friend said, his low and growling voice bringing me back to here and now.
I refused to take even a step back. He towered over me and likely lapped me in weight, but I wasn't going to let an entitled man who had apparently been told one too many times that he was strong and masculine intimidate me.
"I suggest you not try to tell me what to do."
He took a step toward me and I noticed his hands clenching by his sides.
"Who do you think you're talking to, woman? It seems to me that you need a man who's going to tell you what to do and teach you a lesson or two when you get out of line."
I was opening my mouth to respond, but two of the men on either side of him grasped the man by his arms and tugged him backwards toward the door.
"Maybe we should go somewhere else," one of them said. "There's plenty of other bars around."
"I'm not leaving because of her," he growled. "This is where I want to be and she's not going to make me leave."
"No, but the police most certainly will, and I seem to think that the last time they were called here to have a little chat with you because you can't play nice, they were pretty clear with you that if they needed to come again and deal with you that they wouldn't be very happy about it. I, for one, can tell you that if they need to make another visit, you aren't going to be spending your Friday evenings here anymore. You won't be spending any evenings here anymore."
I turned and saw another man standing close behind me, staring over me at the now-reddened good ol’ boy who was still being held back by the men on either side of him. The anger that had been building inside me as I dealt with the angry man faded slightly as I looked at the far sexier specimen who had come to my rescue. There was a brief moment of tension where the angry man seemed to be debating whether it was worth it for him to try to make his point. Finally, he gave in to the men pulling on him and allowed them to lead him away. The man behind me walked around my side to follow them. His hand gripping a phone like he was ready to make that call to the police at a moment's notice.
As soon as they were out of sight, I made my way into the bar; walking past the people gawking at me from the various tables, until I found an empty place to perch. I climbed onto the stool with as much grace as I possibly could and reached for the cocktail menu that was propped on the table. My eyes scanned the list of drinks, trying to find any of them that seemed familiar. I didn't recognize any of them and realized that these concoctions were probably the creation of the bartender of this place. Though a couple of them sounded interesting, after the way that my evening had gone thus far, I wasn't really in the mood to get frustrated by a disappointing drink. I reached for the beer menu on the other side of the table, and selected a familiar brew.
A tired-looking waitress appeared at the side of the table as though she had been hovering right there waiting for me to look like I had made a decision. She withdrew a pad of paper from her pocket and a pencil from behind her ear. I told her which of the beers that I wanted and pointed to it on the menu, just for good measure. She stared at it for a few seconds and then jotted it down before walking away.
The beer took a spectacularly long time to get to me, but at least when it finally did it was cold and had been poured perfectly. I took a sip and enjoyed the taste of it filling my mouth as I looked around. Where was Gloria? I checked the time and noticed that she was already twenty minutes late. If track record was anything for me to go on, there was at least a fifteen-minute window left before I should start worrying. Punctuality had never been something that she was very good at. When I was in school I had taken to changing all of the clocks in the house to different times and then telling her that she needed to be at places an hour or so before she actually needed to so that there would at least be a chance for her to get there on time.
As I took the time to check out the bar, I noticed the Christmas decorations scattered around. What I had thought was just unfortunate lighting was actually strands of Christmas lights around the top of the bar and at the bottom of a few of the tables around the room. Tinsel hung from the potted ficus plants and kitschy signs and decorations hung from the walls. The odd names of the unknown cocktails on the menu suddenly made sense. I had completely forgotten about the holiday season. The realization made me feel even more unsure about seeing Gloria. She hadn't mentioned celebrating the holidays when she called and wanted me to visit, and this was the first time it occurred to me that I hadn't even thought about it.
I had finished my beer and was getting ready to get the attention of the waitress again so that I could order another one when I felt someone step up to the side of the table. I looked up and saw the gorgeous man who had come to my defense standing beside me holding a sparkling blue cocktail.