“I came by on my way to work, to see how you are doing, and I found her, what am I supposed to think?” She flipped her hand at me. “Mother calls and says, ‘he doesn’t call me all night, go check on the boy.’ I tell her, the boy is forty-three and probably drunk, but Mother says please, so here I am.”
She paused to glare “Did you tell anyone you were going to have a friend over?” She finger quoted ‘a friend.’
“Not like you bother telling any of us what’s going on with you. Besides,” she sneered, “I thought you had a girlfriend in Nashville.” She cocked an eyebrow at me, clearly still thinking I was some local groupie Ares had found solace in the night before.
“Respect,” Ares barked. “My head was not, is not in a good place right now. I don’t have time for this shit Maria. Yes, the boy got lousy, stinking drunk last night, and—” indicating me “— Lizzie flew in last night, from Nashville.” His voice was growling, and he over emphasized his syllables. Pinching the bridge of his nose he took a few deep breaths, then continued.
“I just got out of the shower and you are here intimidating and threatening my girlfriend. Tell Mama I am alive, and I will call her once this head calms down.”
This clearly was not a unique situation, they obviously had a long history of bossy older sister, harassed little brother. Actually the thought of Ares being a “little” brother was quite amusing, he towered over her. For a woman, his sister was tall, and in business heels she was easily six feet tall, he just towered over everyone.
Now was a good time to practice my invisibility power, however the oven timer buzzed. I slinked past her with an “excuse me” and opened the oven. I finger tested the food to see if it was warm enough, and placed it on the plate I had pulled out earlier.
Ares’s sister turned her attention to what I was doing. “You reheated that in the oven?”
“Yeah, lasagna never tastes right if you reheat it in the microwave,” I explained.
“It’s not lasagna, it’s moussaka, it’s Greek,” she corrected me with a sneer.
“Sorry, it smells good, whatever it is.” I grabbed a fork and set a place for Ares to sit and eat.
She glanced at the bottles I bagged for recycling. “You drank all of that last night?”
“Mostly.” Ares said. “I probably spilled a lot of it too.” He indicated the couch cover drying.
She harrumphed.
Well I wasn’t noticing an introduction coming from either of them any time soon, so I took my opening, “You must be Maria.” I said a little too brightly.
“And how did you ever guess that?” She drawled out with sarcasm. Oh, I don’t know, the fact he called you Maria, that you call him Tommy and not Ares.
“He’s mentioned his sisters. Eva thinks every two-bit floozy who likes him is delightful, and Maria never likes any of his girlfriends. And well, based on all that,” I indicated the center of the kitchen, “I’d say it’s a safe bet you aren’t Eva. Besides, he called you Maria.”
I stuck out my hand for a shake, “I’m Lizzie.”
She shook it once, a perfunctory ‘there I did it now remove it’ type handshake.
“She’s cleaned up after you, has done some laundry, and knows how to heat up moussaka properly.” Looking from me to Ares she continued, “I just might like her.” She turned on her heel to leave, she pointed at Ares, “You call Mother, expect to be home for dinner. You—” she pointed to me “— be prepared to meet everyone tonight.”
Then she walked out the door. I just stared at it after she left.
“Well,” Ares mumbled around a mouthful of food, “that was my sister Maria.”
I glared at him.
The rest of the day was spent in quiet. I knew I wasn’t there on vacation; I knew we wouldn’t be sightseeing. Actually beyond seeing Ares, and attending a funeral I didn’t know what to expect. I had never visited Seattle before, but I knew about places like Pike Place Market and the Space Needle. I secretly hoped he would show off his city, at least take me on a ferry ride. Ares’s pain was so much more than just a hangover. His soul hurt. We weren’t going to go anywhere, and that was okay. I knew in my heart this wasn’t my last time here. No, Ares was here, and I would find ways to be with him. I’d come back and play tourist another time.
I sat on the couch finishing my novel with Ares’s head in my lap. I stroked and soothed his brow as he stared off to inner space. He was so lost, and I didn’t know how to console him, other than just be here for him. Around midday his phone started ringing, and he disappeared into his music room taking a series of calls. When he emerged his eyes were rimmed in red, as if he had a losing battle with some tears.
“Funeral arrangements have been made. I just spoke to Craig’s ex. She’s arranged to have a car pick us up Saturday at eleven.”
“Okay.” I just focused on him, hoping my eyes showed the concern I felt. He was so sad. A small child I could sweep up into my arms and rock, but how did I do that for a man so big?
“My mother expects us at her house no later than five-thirty for dinner.”
“Okay.” I took his hand, and led him into his bedroom. I pulled him into as much of an engulfing embrace as I could, and just held him. He didn’t protest, he let me hold him. He fell asleep in my arms, and I joined him asleep a few minutes later.
Fifteen
Before heading over to meet Ares’s family I phoned my girls to say goodnight, as it was close to their bedtime. They were more interested in babbling about their day to Ares than to me. Since he was willing to listen, I let him dominate our side of the phone call. I gave my sweet girls air kisses and promised to call again tomorrow.
“They told me not to be sad,” he said as he handed me the phone.
“They like you, they don’t want you to be sad.” They loved him, he was already part of our family. I was about to meet his.
We arrived at Ares’s mother’s house. It was a short drive, I remember crossing a bridge, but I really couldn’t tell where we were. There were fewer trees in this neighborhood, the houses were smaller but a similar age to the ones in his neighborhood. He explained he hadn’t grown up in this house. They moved here when he was in high school. His mother and stepfather bought the house when they got married. Ares had been about fourteen or fifteen at the time.
I was nervous. Maria had been a powerhouse that morning, in control and full of contempt. I’m pretty sure she set my nerves on edge regarding meeting the rest of the family. On the stairs leading to the front door, I turned to face him. We were of a height with me a few steps above him.
“I’m not ready for this,” I confessed. “I’m all schlumpy,” I said, plucking at my clothes.
“You’re fine.” He placed his hand over my heart. “They won’t be looking at your clothes, they’ll be looking here.”
I sighed. He reached up behind me and pulled my ponytail out. I ignored the tugging as he fluffed my hair. “There, if you’re worried, now they will be dazzled by this hair, as I am.”
“Uh, it’s a big mess.” Actually, I think my hair liked Seattle, all the moisture calmed the frizz into ringlets and corkscrew curls. But it was still a big mess.
“Exactly,” he said, kissing me gently before leading me into the house.
Inside was warm and welcoming. It was clear his mother had lived here for almost thirty years. The furniture was comfortable, the shelves were lined with tchotchkes, and it was covered in house plants. Ares said his mother had a gift. Clearly, part of that gift was nurturing plant life. A gift she shared with her son.
Meeting his mother was nothing I expected. I anticipated a tiny little old lady in a faded floral house dress, orthopedic shoes, and a headscarf. Sorry, but with Maria saying their mother called him boy, and him calling her Mama, visions of National Geographic “old country” grandmothers came to mind. She was definitely not a little granny in a babushka. She was tall, easily five-nine or ten, and slender, with close cropped white hair and sharp features. There were the same no
se and cheek bones Ares had, only smaller, more delicate. She had the same clear electric blue eyes. We found her in the kitchen putting the finishing touches on a tossed salad. She was dressed in yoga pants and a sweatshirt. She very much appeared the embodiment of “active senior.”
When she saw us, she grabbed Ares’s head and pulled him down for an embrace. I heard her call him “boy” as she put his head on her shoulder to hold him. She smoothed his hair and cooed at him. He was her little boy, large and impressive as he was, he was her little boy and he was in pain.
Wiping his eyes he reached back for me. “Mama this is,” he began.
“This is Lizzie,” she said, placing her hands on either side of my face. She held my head and looked into my eyes for what felt like an eternity. Clearly this was my judgement, this was my test. Ares was right, she wasn’t going to be concerned with my clothes, she was going to examine my soul.
She broke into a wide grin, her eyes crinkling. “You can call me Mama,” she proclaimed as she patted my cheek.
As she returned to working on the dinner preparations, she instructed me to sit, since I was a guest this time. “Next time, you’re family and you’ll work.”
Ares kissed the top of my head and abandoned me to be interviewed by his mother.
She never once asked what my intentions were. But I still felt as if this was the “can you date my son” interview. She was very easy to talk to and laughed readily. I regaled her with stories of my children, and how life was full of surprises.
Unintentionally, that led to talking about Craig and why I was here. The answer was easy. “Ares called, he was devastated. So, when he asked me to fly out I did. He needed me, and from the tone in his voice, I needed to come be with him.”
“You met Maria.” It was a statement not a question.
“Yes, she…”
“She can be a bit domineering. I think it comes with the job. She’s a lawyer, you know.”
“No, I didn’t actually. I know more about his sisters’ personalities from the perspective of a younger brother than anything else.” I said.
“Well, he’s not wrong, but they do love him. Maria can be overly protective. I think that’s because she is the oldest and remembers their father the best.”
“Ares has never mentioned his father,” I admitted.
He told me that he had a stepfather. We really hadn’t spent much time talking about either of our families
His mother carefully and deliberately put down the knife she had been chopping with. “Has he told you about his own temper?” She sat down.
“He has. I can see it, just under his eyes when he has to deal with my ex-husband. He fiercely wants to defend me from the hurt Richard caused years ago. But, yes, he’s told me how he’s done some stupid things, gotten into trouble. Broken bones, his, other peoples. He’s also told me how they typically involved women, alcohol, and drugs.” There was more, and I’m sure his mother knew all about them.
Ares also told me what his danger signs were, what typically triggered his anger, and what I needed to do if I ever saw him head down that path around me. I had to agree to just walk out on him and not give him a second chance if he ever got that bad. My safety was paramount. For the record he had never hit a woman, and would never hit a child. He had punched holes in walls, broken doors, and once broke a car window. I knew these were red flags. But he was pointing them out to me, aware of his own faults, and trying hard never to revisit them. Being as large as he was, he was a challenge to other men. He tended to not start fights, but he always ended them.
“Tommy inherited that temper from his father. His father was a big man, nothing like Tommy, but tall and handsome. I stayed with him because he gave me three beautiful children. He hit me.”
I honestly never knew what to say when someone told me things like that. It was uncomfortable. I hated the thought that someone could physically abuse their wife, and there was nothing I could do to help. I just nodded, and hoped I didn’t seem like the idiot I was because I didn’t know how else to react.
“Not at first, but after a while he started. And never the girls. As long as it was just me, I could justify staying with him. It was a different time forty years ago. More people were getting divorced, it was becoming more socially acceptable. But it was just so ingrained into me that’s not what families do. Families stick it out. When he started hitting Tommy that was it. He never hit the girls, just Tommy. I was about to kick him out when angels intervened. He fell off a curb and was hit by a bus.” There was no melancholy in her voice remembering, no anger, just an explanation of facts.
“Eva and Tommy were devastated, but I could see that Maria knew better. Don’t get me wrong, she was sad, but I think she finally felt that Tommy and I were safe. Tommy still loved him just because he was his father, he was too young to hate him, yet. If his father had died when Tommy was older, I think Tommy would deal with the deaths of those around him differently. He takes it hard, he takes it personally. And accidents seem to be especially hard on Tommy. He gets angry.”
She patted me on the hand. “Tommy could never hurt someone he loves. But there is a temper in him. I can see you have already helped him tame it.” She stood up. “Go meet Eva, she and Maria are here.”
No sooner had she said that then Maria entered the kitchen. She was still in her business suit. She removed her jacket and tossed an apron over her shell and skirt.
“Aren’t you helping?” Her tone accusatory, as if I was purposefully slacking.
“Lizzie is a guest tonight Maria, let her go meet the others.” Ares’s mother defended me.
I left the two women in the kitchen and headed into the front room to find Ares and the rest of his family.
Ares was sitting in a winged back chair, speaking with a bean pole of a boy, perched on the sofa was his sister Eva.
“Oh my god, you must be Lizzie.” She jumped up and enfolded me into a hug. “I’m Eva.” She grabbed my hands and smiled at Ares. “She’s lovely, just lovely. I’m so glad you are here. Let me introduce you to everyone.”
I’m not a short woman, at five-eight I tend to tower over my female companions. In this house I was a midget. Eva was easily six feet tall dressed in a black vintage style dress covered in cherries. Her hair was piled on top of her head, wrapped in a headscarf. The hair escaping the back of the scarf was black, and the fringe artfully pulled in front was bleach blond. On her feet were bright red wedges with bows at the toes. She looked like a nineteen fifties pin-up.
She had the same features as her mother, and I could tell exactly what Mama had looked like in her youth. Eva had the same slightly slanted eyes as Ares, but hers were stop light green like Maria’s. She highlighted her eyes with a single cat eye wing of black makeup, and wore bright red lipstick. Her smile was large and warm and infectious. Ares had said Eva liked any two-bit tramp who paid attention to him. Truth was, Eva liked everyone. She was a genuine people person.
The first person Eva introduced me to was her son, the bean-pole talking to Ares. The pride she felt for this boy emanated from her. Ryan was easily six-two already, and only fifteen. He looked like he recently spent time on a stretcher, still not quite used to his long limbs. His face was narrow, and he had the same family sharp cheekbones, but his nose was short and his eyes a warm brown. Eva cooed about his accomplishments and petted his green mohawk.
All I could think was how much love and support this kid got, and how lucky he was. My parents wouldn’t have told anyone about my black belt, or plans of going to architectural school. No, they would have complained about the green mohawk. Inwardly, I hoped I would be more like her, and just love and support my girls.
She introduced me to Maria’s husband, a quiet man sitting at the far end of the couch reading the paper. He was also a lawyer, and I learned that their two children were away at college.
Dinner was a roast, salad and the best macaroni and cheese I’ve ever had. You know that’s saying something having lived in the South
where every other cousin’s special dish is mac and cheese.
We were already eating when Ares’s step-father, Frank, arrived. I gathered this was considered normal. Ares was quiet and sullen. I answered questions from Maria and Eva. I had already been interviewed by their mother.
At their family gatherings it was the men’s job to clean up. Ares, his nephew Ryan, and Maria’s husband Phil cleared the dishes and disappeared into the kitchen. After making coffee for everyone, Frank mysteriously disappeared. Eva informed me that he was in the back garage playing with model trains.
Mama and Maria sat in the living room sipping their coffee. Eva grabbed a small cloth bag from her purse and led me back to the dining room.
“What has Tommy told you about me?” she asked as she started to pull a deck of large cards from the bag.
“The part where you like everyone, or the part where you have a gift?”
“That one.” She pointed at me. “Sit.” She pointed at the chair opposite.
“I am a working astrologer and psychic. Mama,” she said it the same accented way that Ares did, decidedly not Southern in nature, “has the same talent, but never used it professionally.”
I just stared at her. Whatever talent their mother had, I had felt it when she stared into my eyes. It felt like she could see into me. Like she was able to reach in and read me like a book. I nodded.
“I want to do a reading if you’re okay with it.”
“Sure,” I said.
Eva explained that she wasn’t exactly reading the cards tarot fashion, but that she was going to use them to help guide, clarify, and interpret what she was seeing. She told me to hold a thought in my mind and shuffle the deck.
The thought I held onto was Ares and how much I loved him.
I handed the cards back, and she deliberately placed them in front of her. She laid the cards out one at a time, in a row about half an arm’s length from her body.
“You love him very, much don’t you?” she asked while studying the cards.
Ballad Ares Page 14
