"The sandals?" Abby asked, fighting the urge to remind Becky that it was hardly a formal affair.
Abby's mother had always been unhinged. Her father called her sensitive, but Sydney's death appeared to have sparked a new fracture in Becky's personality. She had never been a woman who wore shiny, fancy things. In fact, she mocked Sydney incessantly for her clothes, jewelry and general beauty. Abby didn't quite know how to manage this new version of her mom.
"You could have gotten dressed up, you know?" she scolded Abby, looking at her jeans and sweater with disapproval.
"Don't you love this dress?" she asked, doing a girlish twirl and catching a sandaled foot on her blankets. She nearly went sprawling to the floor, but Abby caught her elbow and steadied her.
"It's great," Abby lied. The dress was pretty enough. The issue had more to do with Becky's overall demeanor. She looked like a woman on the verge of an internal catastrophe. Somehow when Abby had seen her mother the last time, chain-smoking and angry, she'd appeared more together. Now, Abby realized that her mother needed help, badly.
"Mom, please don't get upset, but where's Dad?"
"Dad?" Becky sneered. "You mean your father? He comes around every now and then. Tries to run Cody out of here and gives me a sermon about turning over a new leaf. What a hypocrite! I'm sure he's shacked up with some twenty-year-old. Always did have a wandering eye."
Abby frowned. Her father had never had a wandering eye-at least not toward other women. He avoided Becky during her moods, but he opted for work and golf, not pretty co-eds. Though Abby had never felt especially close to her father, she longed for him in that moment.
"I'd like to tell him Merry Christmas. Do you have his number or address?"
Becky narrowed her eyes at Abby.
"I'm sure it's somewhere." She waved a dismissive hand. "Are we going downstairs or should I get back into bed?"
Abby forced a smile and held open the door. Sebastian peeked around the frame and smiled.
"This is my fiance, Sebastian. Sebastian, this is my mom, Becky."
"Nice to meet you." Sebastian held out a hand and Becky took it, scanning him slowly. She paused on a rip in his jeans and cocked an eyebrow, but didn't say anything. "Beautiful dress," he added.
Becky offered a small smile and nodded.
"Thank you. Had I known you were coming, I might have prepared a meal."
"No worries at all," Sebastian assured her. "We brought the meal with us. I love to cook and we already had everything prepped."
Becky gave him another look as if reconsidering her first impression.
"A man who cooks? Now that's a rarity."
"Dad cooked," Abby argued, wishing she'd kept her mouth shut.
Her mother shot her a dark look and continued.
"If you consider fish sticks cooking, then you're right, darling, he did cook."
Becky teetered on the stairs and Sebastian crooked his arm through hers. Abby watched her mother as they descended. She swayed as she walked and her head bobbed loosely on her neck.
Cody sat in the living room flipping through the channels on an enormous flat-screen TV. Containers of takeout lay scattered across coffee tables and tucked into spaces on the bookshelf. Oliver and Lydie both stood by the front door looking like they wanted to make a quick getaway.
"Mom, these are my friends Oliver and Lydie," Abby introduced them as they moved into the foyer.
Becky curtsied awkwardly.
"What beautiful hair you have," she told Lydie, fingering a bouncy strawberry-blond curl. "Like Heidi."
"Heidi?" Lydie asked.
"You know, the little girl who lived on the mountain and yodeled or some such thing."
The expression on Lydie's face revealed that she clearly did not know Heidi, but she offered a polite smile.
"Smokin' hot dress," Oliver offered. "Looks like you're ready for a beauty pageant."
Sebastian rolled his eyes and continued into the kitchen.
Becky lit up and held out her hand for Oliver to kiss, which he did.
"I bought it online. You can get the very same dresses that movie stars wear on the Internet."
Abby followed Sebastian into the kitchen.
"Is everything okay with your mom?" he asked, keeping his voice low.
"No." Abby shook her head. "She's in a weird place. I'm not sure what to do."
Abby walked to the kitchen counter piled with dirty dishes.
"This is all so unlike her. She used to scream at me if I left a water glass in the sink. I don't even know how to wrap my head around this mess."
Sebastian's eyes drifted over the kitchen. Near the back door, stacked bags of garbage leaked an unpleasant rotted food smell. Several of the cupboards stood open with a mess of cups and dishes piled together.
Abby opened the silverware drawer and found several balled-up socks.
"She needs help," Sebastian agreed. "Where's your dad?"
Abby shrugged.
"Who knows, she gave me some delusion about another woman, but I highly doubt it's true."
She strode to the refrigerator and pulled off a large sheet of white paper with her dad's writing scrawled across the page.
"This is my number-call me if you need anything!" in large bold letters as if he went over the words several times to make them darker.
"Will she freak out if you call him?"
"I'll sneak out, say I'm running to the store. I'm sure we'll need to anyway," Abby added, scanning the room. "I don't think we're going to want to cook with any of the food in here."
"No, and first this place needs a good cleaning. I don't want to upset her though."
Abby considered. Old Becky would have balked at someone else cleaning her house. She would have taken it as a personal insult, but this new version seemed to be a wild card.
"Your mom had a great idea," Oliver called from the front room. "She said there's an awesome restaurant downtown that's open today. And," Oliver bounded into the kitchen, "they offer real live oysters!"
"Not live, you joker," Becky giggled.
"Sounds great," Sebastian volunteered. "Yes," he mouthed at Abby.
****
They arrived at Sophia's Lantern, an Irish-creole fusion restaurant that occupied an old train depot in downtown Lansing. Despite the holiday, cars packed the parking lot and most of the tables were occupied.
Their host, Georgina, led them to a large round booth on the second floor.
Abby pretended to have forgotten her wallet and ducked back out of the restaurant. She found an empty bench in the lobby and quickly dialed the number from the paper.
Her dad picked up on the first ring.
"Merry Christmas, Dad," Abby said, suddenly lost for things to say now that she had her dad on the line.
"Abby? Oh thank God. I've been trying to reach you for a month. I tried your old cell, but it was disconnected. Your mother kept telling me she didn't know your new number."
Abby sighed, relieved. A part of her had believed her father had abandoned her. Obviously, she had forgotten that she was the one who abandoned him.
"I'm sorry, Dad. I moved to the upper peninsula and my old cell service didn't work. I've just been so busy with school." She hated telling the lies, but couldn't imagine the truth would go much better. Dad, I found out I'm a witch and moved to a coven on a secret island. Now I'm living with my non-witch boyfriend and I'm pregnant.
"Sounds like a paranormal soap opera," she muttered.
"What, honey?"
"Oh nothing, sorry. I'm talking to myself. Listen, I'm in Lansing with friends. We picked up Mom and came to Sophia's Lantern for dinner."
"Your mom? You actually got her out of the house? I'm happy to hear that. Cody isn't there, is he?" Her dad asked grimly.
"No, he's not. Who is he anyway? And why did you move out?"
Her father sighed. Abby could picture him rubbing absently at his balding head.
"It's a long story, honey. One I'd rather not tell over the pho
ne. Could you come by? After dinner? I can whip up a mean strawberry shortcake."
"Maybe you should join us here at Sophia's?"
"I don't think that would be a good idea. Your mother has not reacted favorably the last few times I've stopped by. I'd rather she enjoy her time out. She needs it."
Abby reluctantly agreed and hung up the phone. She felt lighter having talked to her dad, as if the life she used to know had not completely crumbled.
"Oliver ordered champagne," her mother exclaimed when Abby returned.
"Great," Abby mumbled, reminding herself to kick Oliver under the table. Her mother did not need more alcohol.
"I ordered you tea," Sebastian said, as she slid next to him. He tucked his hand under her and gave her bottom a little squeeze.
She jumped and elbowed him playfully.
"They have fried green tomatoes!" Lydie announced, pointing at her menu.
"You like those?" Oliver asked, surprised.
"My mom used to make them," she admitted shyly.
"I like them too." Sebastian winked at her.
"Well I think a toast is in order," Becky announced when the waiter returned with the bottle.
Oliver filled each of their glasses.
"To Abby's new friends, who I guess are better than her own family."
She beamed and gulped her entire glass of champagne. The rest of them took a sip and tried to make awkward conversation. Becky glared into her menu as if it had insulted her.
Sebastian wrapped his arm behind Abby and pulled her a little closer. Oliver gave her a questioning look and Abby shrugged. What could she say? As strange as her mother's behavior seemed, the sudden mood shifts did not surprise Abby. She'd spent the first eighteen years of her life navigating the cyclones of her mother's emotions.
They ordered and Oliver tried to make polite conversation. He asked Becky questions about her working life, but since she'd been a stay-at-home mom, a source of both pride and resentment, she soon lapsed into another lengthy silence.
Finally, Oliver shifted his attention to Lydie and they chatted amicably about their favorite Christmas movies.
"Scrooged," Lydie insisted. "I love Bill Murray. Why don't we have a TV at Ula?" she asked suddenly and then clapped a hand over her mouth.
Becky's head shot up and she stared at Lydie for a long time.
"What's Ula, honey?" The sticky sweet voice she used made Abby's skin crawl.
"It's a city in the U.P.," Abby said at the same moment that Oliver explained it was Lydie's boarding school.
Becky looked coolly between them.
"Do you all think that I'm stupid? Is that why you came here today? To share your little secrets and mock me?"
Becky's voice rose and Abby reached across the table, trying to clutch her mother's hand.
"Mom, it's okay, no one is trying to keep secrets."
"Ha," she laughed and stood, staring down at her daughter.
For an instant, she reminded Abby of Ursula-the sea witch from The Little Mermaid as she rose out of the ocean with Titan's trident blazing in her hand.
"I know what you are," she hissed at them. She looked triumphantly from one face to the next. "I've seen what you become. Slithering monsters that live in holes and feed on little girls."
She suddenly clambered onto the bench and then the table, kicking over their glasses in her sandaled feet. She jumped off the table and ran down the stairs.
Chapter 9
"Let me out, I have to go after her," Abby demanded, trying to push Sebastian out of the booth.
"No, let me go," he urged, pressing her back down.
Shamefaced, Lydie turned to Abby.
"I'm so sorry, Abby. I can't believe I said that."
"It wasn't your fault, Lydie," Abby promised.
She watched Sebastian trot down the stairs and out of sight.
"My mom is..."
"Cuckoo for cocoa puffs?" Oliver asked, but he smiled warmly and gave Abby's hand a squeeze across the table.
"Yeah, exactly. Now you know why visiting her on Christmas was a last minute, and obviously terrible, idea."
"She needs help," Oliver offered. "I'm sorry about the champagne. I thought she might feel more comfortable."
"She might if she hadn't already downed half a bottle of gin at home."
"She did?"
"I saw a bottle on the floor next to her bed. I could tell she'd been drinking, but don't let that fool you. She can launch into a complete rage totally sober."
"That must have been crazy to grow up with," Oliver added.
"Yeah, it was."
"What did she mean about slithering monsters that eat little girls?" Lydie asked, frowning.
"I don't have a clue," Abby admitted. "Creepy though."
Their waitress appeared and began to mop up their spilled drinks.
"Heard you guys had a bit of a showdown over here," she said lightly. "Is everything okay?"
"Yeah, we're okay," Abby said, wanting to leave and drive back up north without a backward glance. Every time she returned to her hometown, she received a thunderclap reminder of why she had fled.
"No luck," Sebastian apologized, returning to the table. A red welt showed across his cheek and Abby grimaced.
"She slapped you?" she asked, appalled.
Sebastian touched his cheek.
"To her credit, I tried to pick her up and carry her back from the bus stop."
Oliver snorted.
"Was she upset?" Lydie asked.
"More self-righteous than anything. Even after I confessed that I was a mere mortal, she still insisted on calling me a warlock and wagging her finger in my face. Fortunately the other patrons waiting for the bus looked equally unhinged, so I'm not sure anyone will be reporting the incident."
Abby moaned and put her head in her hands.
"I'm sorry, you guys," she told them. "I obviously didn't think this through."
"Why are you apologizing?" Sebastian asked, incredulous. "I'm the one who insisted on the family Christmas trip. At least now I can say, I've met your mother."
The waitress brought fresh drinks and a plate of appetizers.
"No live oysters, thank the Goddess," Lydie said, grabbing a piece of bruschetta from the plate.
****
"Abby!" Abby's dad wrenched open the door of his condo and pulled her into a hug.
The condo occupied one half of a small yellow building in Mason, a rural community south of Lansing.
"Hi Dad." She hugged him back.
He pulled away and looked her up and down.
"Your hair is longer, but I could have sworn it was short the last time I saw you?"
She smiled and touched a curl.
"Yeah, I found some miracle grow shampoo. Pretty amazing, huh?"
"Sure is. Could use some myself." He touched his mostly bald head and smiled.
"Hi, I'm Sebastian." Sebastian thrust his hand forward and Abby's dad shook it vigorously.
"Nice to meet you, young man. Is this your fella, then?" he asked. "Or that one there?" He cocked his head toward Oliver, who stood next to the car with Lydie.
"This is the one," Abby said, wrapping her arm around Sebastian's waist. "We're engaged."
"Whoa, engaged? Well congratulations then. Come on in. Dessert's all ready, and I think I have a bottle of wine floating around here somewhere."
They followed him inside.
"This is Oliver and Lydie, Dad," Abby told him as they walked through the door.
"A pleasure." He smiled at them. "You look a bit young for college though, little lady. Are you one of those super geniuses who becomes a doctor when she's thirteen?"
Lydie laughed and blushed.
"Oliver is my brother. I'm just tagging along."
They had made up the lie on their drive down.
"Well that's an awfully nice brother to let you do that."
Abby surveyed the condo. Very plain with neutral colors. It revealed that Abby's dad still hadn't accepted that
he could pick his own decor. Not that he was a decorator. Though she imagined if he truly tapped into his secret interior designer, they'd be looking at blown-up photos of golf courses and not much else.
Becky had not allowed Jim much space to have anything of his own. The one time he tried to bring a reclining chair home, she marched him right back to the store and returned it. "A hideous monstrosity," she had called it.
Abby saw a similar chair in his sitting room. It accompanied a stiff-looking tan couch and a pair of homely end tables.
"I like it," she told him honestly, following him into the small kitchen. It didn't have much flair, but something about the space felt safe and easy.
"It's plenty big enough for me, and I got a great deal on it. No fees since I worked as my own agent."
"How's business?"
Abby's dad had been a real estate agent since before she came into the world. He loved his job, though Becky needled him constantly about selling mansions instead of welfare housing.
"Oh it's super. Look at this." He led her to a small office, tucked into the corner of the kitchen, with a desktop that folded down from the wall. A laptop sat on the surface along with a stack of her dad's brochures. He touched the mouse and his screen came to life.
"Newest software on the market. It's called Rate my Realtor. It's a social media platform for buyers, sellers, agents, you name it. I've got 4.7 stars!"
"Wow, congratulations," Abby told him, watching over his shoulder as he clicked on his profile. An image of her father standing next to a "sold" sign appeared on the screen.
"So what happened with you and Mom?" she asked, glancing behind her to make sure the others had stayed in the sitting room. She didn't mind if they heard, but knew her father would be reluctant to open up with strangers nearby.
He sighed and closed the laptop.
"After Sydney's funeral she just became impossible. You know I love your mother, Abby, and I have no intention of speaking ill of her now, but I couldn't live with her anymore. It's that simple. The moods, the rages. Sometimes I would come home from work and she'd attack me. Not just with words either, like she used to. She'd be throwing dishes at me before I even made it through the door."
"I'm so sorry, Dad."
He shrugged and held up his palms.
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