Four Seasons…May

Written by Writer Dad on December 10, 2009 - View Comments
Categories: Writing

“I’m not eating her egg rolls and I don’t care if they’ve gone from honorable to third at the Strawberry Festival – they’re still filthy, and barely egg rolls.” Brian barely muttered the last bit under his breath. He waved a red Grand Am in front of him, shuddered at the memory of goat cheese and ginger lingering on his lips, then traded one freeway for another.

“You don’t have to eat the egg rolls. I already told her you’re lactose intolerant.” Maya put her hand on Brian’s knee as he relaxed into the rhythm of the new freeway, then added, “Just be nice.”

“I’m always nice.”

“I know,” Maya said, “but today you need to be Mother’s Day nice.”

“Mother’s Day nice? That woman hasn’t so mush as wished me a happy birthday in the six years we’ve been together.”

“She doesn’t mean anything by it.”

Brian could have said, of course you feel that way, she’s your mother, but couldn’t see the thought filling the air any differently than the approximately 4,738 times he’d said it before. Maya was perfectly aware of each of her mother’s million and one faults, and could probably recite them backwards in Greek if she were to ever start talking in tongues, but it was her mother and Maya’s instincts had been well oiled over a lifetime. Her immediate response was always the same; dim the defects of her mom while shining a bright light on Brian’s own melodrama.

Brian stared at the road and tried to read the license plate three cars in front. Maya fiddled with the stations. Michelle cried from the back seat, suddenly awake and sure to be hungry. She’d managed to stay asleep from cradle to car seat, and stayed that way during the last two hours, nestled deep in the freeway’s lullaby.

Her sudden cry split the moment. Maya started digging through the diaper bag in search of a bottle. Brian tried not to sigh. Maya’s mother, Olivia, was a royal pain in the ass and though already plenty tolerant of her bullshit, he’d be a lot more able to swallow it all with a smile if Maya could at least admit it.

Olivia’s husband had left her back when Maya’s brother Dean was starting kindergarten and Maya was still in diapers. She had then spent the subsequent years drowning deeper in delusion. At first Olivia had believed, despite the absurdity, that she and the man who had left with her little besides a last name she’d always hated were destined to be together. As soon as she realized he was a dirty scumbag who believed cheating was fine as long as you’re breathing, Olivia started to see life as she and Maya against the world and any man walking it.

Dean followed his father’s lead without a single look back, but Olivia had managed to maintain a tenuous grip on her daughter, despite ethanol fueled mania being nearly as constant as the sunset and more consistent than dinner.

Brian was sure that Maya defended him whenever one of Olivia’s unnecessary arrows was especially sharp and he wasn’t around to deflect it, but they both knew that if Maya were to spend her minutes defending everything that left her mother’s mouth, there would never be breath between monologues.

It was always easier to simply agree.

“You can never count on a man,” Olivia would say. Maya would answer, “Brian’s never let me down before” or maybe “you can’t generalize everything, Mom,” but her protests were never met with anything more than a dismissive whistle or abrupt change of subject.

Brian half glanced behind him then crossed four lanes, drifting toward the exit with the sort of fluid sweep only possible in and around LA on a Sunday. The car was still silent, save for the barely audible backbeat of an old and almost forgotten one hit wonder that only Maya could ever remember the name to amid the sound of Michelle drinking her bah-bah in the car seat behind them.

Family was best not brought up, like politics or religion, or student loans or bachelor parties. Mostly, it was a topic that had long been stripped of any nutrients. The subject would surface, Brian and Maya would each say slightly more than they should and far less than they really meant, then let awkward silence fill the space between them while counting the long seconds until it was safe to fill the air again.

The baby made everything easier.

She’s so beautiful,” Brian said, moving his two o’clock from the steering wheel and adjusting the rear view mirror to gather a better look at the pursed lips and wide eyes of the beautiful four month old baby in the back seat suckling her bottle.

Brian smiled, his face instantly defrosted. Maya absorbed the warmth. “So do you think your mom will be up or down today?” she asked.

“We referring to mood or weight?”

“Is there a difference?” Maya laughed a few degrees deeper than needed. Brian joined her as he pulled a left onto her mother’s tiny cul de sac. Maya stared at the old pink house sitting just across the street from the memories of her miserable childhood and wondered how Solomon, the old man who lived there, was doing. Saul may have been the only person in her life who had always been ready with a compliment or perhaps a piece of candy. Saul had never discussed Maya’s mother, though his eyes said enough. Saul had always helped her to feel a little less alone, and was the closest thing to a father that her brother Dean had ever had.

Brian killed the engine and kissed Maya on the forehead. He opened the door then walked the foot path, up the small set of steps that separated the porch from the driveway. He knocked on the door while Maya wiped Michelle’s face and unloaded her from the car. It had been their silent tradition since January for Brian to stick his finger in the wind of Olivia’s temperament before bringing the girls into the milieu.

Brian knocked a second time, slightly louder. Olivia hated the “shrill and obnoxious sound of the doorbell,” but usually had the TV up so loud she couldn’t hear the knock. He turned around, waved at Maya as she closed the car door and gave the door a swift kick with the heel of his boot. This newest tactic made him quietly happy. Though Brian was the only one who knew it was there, any set of eyes which took the time to study would be able to find the small spot on the front door, slightly concave to the approximate size of a 10 ½ heel.

“Hi Olivia,” Brian said as the door swung towards him. Her eyes wore a few red webs, but he couldn’t smell any alcohol.

“Hi there,” she kissed Brian on the cheek, squeezed his shoulders, then trotted to Maya as she was ascending the final stair.

“How’s my baby? Oh, there she is.” She clapped and then turned her eyes to Maya. “She’s just so alert, and twice as big already!” Maya handed Michelle to her mother with a split second of apprehension everyone pretended not to notice. “Happy Mother’s Day,” she said, punctuating her greeting with a soft kiss on her mother’s hot cheek.

“Thank you so much for coming,” Olivia said with a smile not usually seen outside the company of an empty bottle or two. “Come inside.”

She smiled again at Brian as she brushed by, then slipped through the open door. Brian leaned into Maya’s ear. “I couldn’t smell a thing. It’s gotta be Vodka.” He couldn’t hear his wife sigh, but felt it like a cloud passing over the sun. He pulled Maya’s hand into his and they crossed the threshold together.

The house was brighter than usual, an extra fixture or new bulbs Brian couldn’t tell. “What’d you do, Mom?” Maya threw her eyes around the room. “The house looks great.”

“It’s Mother’s Day,” Olivia beamed, “and I have company. I even thought I’d make a batch of Brian’s favorite cookies.”

The scent curled into his nose and Brian wondered how he could have possibly missed it – hot sugar coalescing with the scent of toasted coconut. She’d made these cookies just twice before, six years earlier.

The adults leaned against the island in the kitchen while Michelle occupied the fourth side in her portable highchair. They quickly fell into a more relaxed version of their usual banter, Olivia’s eyes occasionally breaking rhythm as she played peek-a-boo with Michelle. She was always overly friendly with the baby, but today, Brian thought, her affection seemed dialed to about 12.

He and Maya continued to exchange glances edged with years of intimacy, and at one point, Brian tipped his hand back, to indicate he was CERTAIN Olivia was drunk. Maya kicked his shin under the table – soft enough to be playful, but hard enough to lodge a chunk of cookie in his throat.

“You okay, honey?” Olivia asked.

Brian nearly choked again. Honey, now? Yeah, the old lady had to be drunk.

“So, what do you think of Lisa’s new boyfriend?” Olivia asked, the edge of her usual bitter tone suddenly dragged across the whetting stone for the first time that morning.

Ah, here’s the Olivia we all know and loathe, Brian thought.

Maya bristled. For ten years it had bothered her that her mother felt it necessary to call her best friend on the phone, now she’d added email to the mix. Lisa was far too nice and had always felt sorry for Olivia, ever since they were teenagers. “Sounds like a great guy,” she said.

“Great?” Olivia said as though Maya had just suggested that Hitler too was a great guy, “The man is 40!”

“So what’s the big deal?” Maya asked, instantly regretting the decision to engage her mother, but plowing full speed ahead, anyway. “She’s only six years younger, it’s not like he’s an old man.”

“What kind of 40 year old man drives a 15-year old Corolla?” Olivia asked, the last four words flirting with an exaggerated gasp.

“Yeah” Brian teased, “flash forward two years and I’m sure we’ll see his neighbors on TV one day telling reporters, ‘he was a quiet man who kept to himself’, he drove a 15-year old Corolla, we should have known about the bodies in the basement.”

Brian smiled. Olivia ignored his comment. Maya scowled.

“Hey, it’s about time Lisa met someone who will treat her right,” Maya said. “From what she says, he’s perfect for her; romantic, thoughtful, caring, sensitive…”

“Sounds like a queer to me,” Olivia said, a self satisfied chuckle painting her face in the garish hues of a well practiced drunk.

Maya glanced at Brian as if to say, don’t you dare laugh at that.

He didn’t. He grabbed a cookie and shoved the whole thing in his mouth.

“Well,” Olivia said without a trace of a slur, “we’ll get a chance to inspect him for ourselves soon enough. I invited them over for Mother’s Day. She’s stopping by to visit Saul, and I told her we’d all be here. I saw no reason not to.”

Maya’s face flushed.

“You better not tear him down when they get here!” Maya warned, “You’ve ALWAYS criticized Lisa’s boyfriends. I’ve know idea why she even tolerates you. I have to, you know, blood and all.” She allowed a second of silence to settle, then drew in her breath, considering her words like arrows in a quiver. “It’s not like you’ve made the best of choices in men, yourself.”

Olivia stared at Maya, eyes narrowing into flint marbles behind a frozen mask.

Brian flinched – this wasn’t about Lisa’s new boyfriend. It was about Olivia’s picking on Brian, and he wanted to get the hell out of Dodge as quickly as possible before the O.K. Corral got riddled with bullet holes.

He could see Olivia’s wheels turning. He glanced at Maya, wondering if she knew what she was inviting, their daughter oblivious but beside them nonetheless. Both women were standing. Maya, staring at her mother, tears swelling in her eyes; chin out, as if to say, bring your best shot.

Olivia’s hand raised, pointer finger extended, and Brian was pretty sure a full head of steam was about to billow from her head.

In the thick silence, the doorbell sounded like a gunshot.

Brian had never been so grateful to hear a doorbell. He didn’t care who was at the front door, even if it were the agents in Kafka’s The Trial coming to arrest him for reasons unknown, anything to stave off the looming battle.

Olivia went to the door, leaving Maya and Brian alone with the aftermath of her anger. Brian put a hand on her shoulder and whispered, “Don’t let her get to you.”

Maya started straight ahead, not wanting to give in to the tears, nor wanting to put a damper on the fire which Olivia had stoked. Brian had only seen his wife like this on one other occasion, one which they agreed never to speak of and he’d prefer never to recall.

Brian looked up as Olivia led Lisa and her new boyfriend into the kitchen.

“There are fresh cookies on the table and I’ve got more tea on the stove,” Olivia said, sliding into that super friendly voice again as she went to the cabinet to get some plates.

Brian stood up to greet Lisa with a hug and then shook her boyfriend’s hand.

“Hi,” the boyfriend said, “I’m John.”

“Nice to meet you,” Brian said, as he watched Maya and Lisa hug tightly. Maya whispered something into her ear, which Brian only tried to hear.

As Olivia returned with two small plates and a smile, John reached into a paper sack he’d been carrying and handed Olivia a single red rose.

“Happy Mother’s Day,” he said.

John then reached back into the sack and retrieved what looked to be a book wrapped in brown paper. “Lisa says you don’t like modern fiction,” he said, “well, a dear friend of mine guaranteed you will just love this book.”

“Really, guarantees?’ Olivia said as she reached out to take the gift.

“Yes,” John said, turning to Lisa and smiling the most genuine smile Brian had ever seen from a guy, “and Mrs. Stamp is never wrong when it comes to knowing what people will like.”