by Lily Ryan
“Mom, Dad, we’re here.”
My parents rush in from the kitchen. I hope to help my mother cook and prepare for dinner while giving my father time to get acquainted with Lucas, but it looks like they have it all taken care of.
“Where’s Ava?” I ask.
“She’ll be here soon.” My father answers. “She got a crazy idea in her head that it would be okay to go wish her friend a Merry Christmas.”
Surprised his baby girl isn’t within arm’s reach right before Christmas dinner, I feel a little relieved. This means my parents could talk to Lucas and get to know him without Ava’s opinion coloring them. We all know if Ava doesn’t like him, neither will my parents.
“Mom, Dad, this is Lucas.” I take a deep breath. “Lucas, these are my parents, Will and Marian Coppollo.”
I watch my father reach out to shake Lucas’s hand with both of his own. That’s the handshake he reserves for those that matter to him. All others received the standard, single right hand.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, son.”
“Thank you, sir, Ma’am.”
“Oh please don’t call me that. It makes me feel old. And the last thing you ever want is to make a lady feel old. And don’t call me Mrs. Coppollo; you’ll have me looking over my shoulder for my motherin-law. Call me Marian.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Marian.” He smiles, unleashing his dimples on my mother.
“Come in, and make yourself comfortable,” Dad turns and heads for the living room. Not quite the reception I received at Aunt Rose’s, but definitely not cold and adversarial like Lucas’s mother.
I know I should go into the kitchen and help. I feel nervous leaving Lucas with my father. I haven’t wanted his approval so bad since I was a kid. Once I hear them laugh together, I exhale, knowing it’s going to be okay. These are the parents I adore, and Lucas is the man I love. What could possibly go wrong?
Most everything’s ready before I arrive. My mother assigns me busy work in the kitchen, I guess so we could spend some time alone. She knows I’ll be more comfortable coming clean about Lucas if we’re alone. I wait, but the interrogation never comes.
*
After the preparations are complete and the table set I bring a few bottles of beer to Lucas and my father, and fill a glass with eggnog for myself. I slip into the space on the couch next to Lucas, feeling like there’s nothing more natural in the world, like this is part of a comfortable routine we’d fallen into.
His arm comes around my shoulder, and he holds me close to him, never taking his eyes off my father. They’re making small talk, discussing off season baseball acquisitions.
I know my father’s enjoying this. He loves all sports, and has a hell of time making conversations with any of Ava’s boyfriends. They aren’t exactly the athletic types, and I’m quite sure he doesn’t want to delve into a deep analysis with Ava’s latest beau over why he was given the nickname Spike.
After a few minutes of snuggling, I feel invigorated. I stand and stare out the fifth floor window at the park across the street. It’s empty, the trees bare. Still it makes me feel at home.
“Could still get some snow for Christmas,” my mother says, placing her arm around my shoulder. “You used to think it was magic when it snowed on Christmas.”
I look up at the thick grey sky. The clouds are pregnant with the promise of snow. Imagining the falling crystal flakes fills me with a warm sensation.
“I still do.”
My mother takes a long look at me, a funny twinkle in her eye as she does. “You are absolutely glowing. You’re in love with him aren’t you?”
I’m relieved she can see that just by looking at me. It makes telling her about the engagement that much easier. I nod. The corners of her lips draw up into a smile.
“This is it, Mom. He’s the one.”
“I knew it must be serious when you told me he’d be joining us for the holiday but I had no idea it was that serious.”
“I just hope Dad doesn’t say anything to blow it.”
My mother waves off my concern, “You know how overprotective he is.” She pauses a moment, “But Ava will be here any minute to rescue Lucas. Hopefully your father will be too occupied trying to pry into her love life that he won’t make too much of yours.”
“If he hasn’t already.”
I cringe at the thought of my father telling Lucas childhood stories I’d long forgotten. Still I prefer the temporary discomfort his tales may bring to being completely overlooked like I usually am.
I take a back seat to my sister. Especially with my father. Ava is his baby. The delicate flower he fears will wither and die if he doesn’t devote every waking moment to it.
I love Ava. She isn’t yet the best friend I hoped she’d morph into over the years, but we’re on our way. Ever since Nate, I started trusting her with more of my secrets, and found out she isn’t the perfect angel my parents think she is.
I also resent her.
Mostly because Ava’s a younger, more polished version of myself. As infants we looked alike. So much so, the only way to tell us apart was by size. She was longer and leaner. As she aged her complexion was like porcelain. Flawless.
My mother would tell her so, often. I only had to deal with the occasional zit, but still was reminded constantly that my skin wasn’t as perfect as my sister’s.
Her features were finer. Sharper. More delicate than mine. Her eyes just a drop bigger, her nose, although the exact same shape as mine looks better on her. As we grew she took the title of the beautiful one. I’m the smart, sensible sister. Even now, Ava stands two inches taller than me, redistributing the same hundred and twenty pounds.
Growing up she hung around me and my friends, honing her social skills. A talent Ava exploits to make herself the center of attention wherever she goes. I’m not jealous. I want only the best for my sister, but this evening is mine. I want to be the shining star-with both my parents and Lucas.
The doorbell rings. I hold my breath as I head for it, concerned for the first time about Lucas meeting my sister. What if he, like everyone else, finds Ava more enticing? What if she likes him?
We don’t have the same taste in guys, but I can’t imagine anyone being able to resist Lucas. He might not look like Spike, but his personality and his sexual appetite seem to be more Ava’s speed than mine. I’m more likely to date a stuffed shirt.
I get up to answer the door, wondering why she doesn’t let herself in. While I’m less than a foot away, the door opens.
Honing in on my fear, Ava cuts to the quick. “Hey sis, you don’t seem happy to see me. What gives?” she goads as she throws her arms around me.
“I’m thrilled as always.”
“Of course you are. Isn’t everyone?” she winks. “So where is he?” Ava tries to look over my shoulder.
“Is that my little girl?” my father bellows getting off the couch and walking over to greet Ava.
“Mom told you?” I whisper.
Ava pulls herself out of the embrace with my father and smirks, “Not Mom. Dad.”
My mouth goes dry. I don’t know what to say.
“He waited up for me the other night and went on and on for an hour.”
I stare at my father and sister speechless until I feel Lucas’s arm around my shoulder.
“Well, well. You must be Lucas.” Ava extends her hand in a friendly gesture.
“Guilty,” he answers.
“You certainly are easy on the eyes.”
“Ava!” Embarrassed and afraid of his reaction, my face turns red. No way am I leaving them alone for a minute.
“Are you rich, too?”
Lucas opens his mouth to answer but Ava interrupts, “I’m just teasing. Besides, that’s more my thing then Livie’s. She actually cares what a guy’s like on the inside,” my sister says, as she slaps his chest.
Ava continues to bring a playful tension to the small crowd. She takes control of the conversation and as usual, becomes the focus of the small
group. I find myself lucky Ava doesn’t have a major crisis going on, or else no one would even care that I’m getting married.
It’s time. My whole family is together and they seem to like Lucas. I have no reason to procrastinate any longer. Before sitting at the dinner table I nonchalantly slip the engagement ring on my finger.
Once everyone settles into their seats and mom heaps her usual large servings of food onto the plates, the third degree begins all over again. All the questions Lucas answered earlier while getting acquainted with my father are back on the table.
“How did you meet?”
“How long have you been dating?”
“What do you do?”
I thought this won them over for sure.
“I’m a behaviorist. I work in early intervention with autistic children.”
My father squints his eyes, his nose crinkles. “Wow. That must be difficult. And there are so many children diagnosed with it today. It’s like an epidemic.”
“It’s a huge issue, and it doesn’t get nearly as much attention as it should.”
I watch Lucas lean forward in his chair and speak passionately, not only about what he does, but about the kids he works with. He gives examples of children whose life he turned around. He explains while that’s always the goal, it isn’t always the outcome.
Ava interrupts with a surprising question, “When’s the wedding?”
“Ava,” mom begins, “that’s not an appropriate question. Why look at poor Lucas,” my mother motions her hand in his direction. “You’ve made him blush.”
“Maybe he’s blushing because someone finally figured out they’re engaged.”
“Engaged?” my father bellows.
“Are you all blind?” Ava reaches over the table and raises my left hand. “They’re engaged.”
A cloud of anger and disappointment covers my father’s face. “Engaged? When did this happen?”
“Sir, I apologize for springing this on you. In fact, I surprised myself when I walked out of the store with the ring.”
“So this was an ill thought, impulsive decision?”
“No.”
“You just said you weren’t planning on purchasing the ring.”
Lucas clears his throat trying to buy himself time. He shifts uncomfortably in his chair before taking my hand in his own.
“I knew from the moment I met Olivia she was special.”
“She’s special all right,” Ava interjects. “I don’t see what the problem is, Dad. You’ve been complaining for years there’s not a guy out there that’ll be crazy enough to marry her.”
“Shut up!” I throw my napkin across the table at her.
“Girls!” Mom shouts.
“Sorry,” we say, at the same time.
My father shakes his head. “My daughter is too young. She’s barely out of college. There’s no reason to rush into marriage. It’s a serious commitment and to treat it so casually …”
“I’m old enough to make my own decisions and we’re not rushing.”
Dad puts his arm on the table and leans toward me with a menacing look. I think he might send me to my room even though I don’t live here. “I want to know right now. Are you pregnant?”
“Of course not!” I answer shocked he’d even ask.
Both parents let out a sigh of relief.
“Lucas and I aren’t kids, Dad. And we love each other very much.”
“When can we meet your parents?” Mom asks.
Lucas and I share a look that’s not lost on the rest of the family.
“You were with them last night. How did they react?” Mom asks.
“My mother was taken by surprise, more or less like you.”
“And your father?”
Lucas looks down at his dish before answering. “My father doesn’t know yet. He wasn’t there.”
“Where on earth would he be on Christmas Eve?” My father’s disapproval colors his comment.
“Lucas’s parents are divorced.”
“Oh.” My parents don’t attempt to hide their sour looking faces, lowered eyes, or the head shaking.
“Still,” Dad continues, “didn’t you call him?”
“My father and I don’t speak much these days.”
My father’s face turns bright red.
“Irreconcilable differences,” Lucas tries to explain.
“What did you do that’s so bad your own father won’t speak to you?”
“Why do you assume it was Lucas’s fault?” I jump to his defense.
“Don’t raise your voice to me, young lady.”
“Mom, Dad, you’re making too much of this,” Ava tries to help.
“Mind your business,” Dad scolds.
I jump up, “Fine. You want to know what happened, Dr. Stillwell married Lucas’s fiancé.”
My father looks as if he’s been slapped across the face. He glares at Lucas as if he’s the one who was found in a compromising position. In dramatic fashion my father makes a point of getting to his feet slowly. Purposefully. He places his hands on the table and leans in.
“In the kitchen now Olivia.”
“No.” my voice cracks. “Anything you have to say can be said in front of Lucas.”
“Olivia!”
“I’m not going anywhere.” This time I sound strong. Confident.
“Fine! Have it your way. He obviously comes from an immoral family. And he’s been engaged before. This is reckless and irresponsible and I forbid you to marry him!”
“Forbid me?”
“That’s right!” he snaps.
“Calm down, Will,” Mom tries to soothe.
“You forbid me?” I ask again as if I can’t believe my ears.
“You heard me!”
“I’m sorry to hear that.” I look to my mother and sister for help. Getting nothing but stunned silence and long drawn faces I turn to Lucas. “Come on. We’re leaving.”
Chapter 42
Lucas
Although she does her best to play it off like everything’s fine, I know better. I didn’t expect the news of our engagement to go over without a hitch, but I certainly didn’t expect her parents to forbid her from marrying me.
Forbid her.
Olivia isn’t sixteen. She isn’t rash or reckless. She’s her own woman. Strong and level headed. And she makes her own decisions. At this moment I realize I’ve been treating her no better than her father.
The fury she expressed when we first got into the car dissipates. Now Olivia sits silently. Staring out the window. I feel her pain in the silence.
“I’m sorry.” I give her hand a little squeeze.
“For what?” she snaps pulling away. “It’s not your fault my father’s a pig headed jerk.”
“No. But I put you in a bad situation.”
“By asking me to marry you?”
“By riding you about work. I’m sorry. I should’ve trusted you.” I pause a moment, knowing it’s not coming out the way I mean it to. “I mean I do trust you.”
Olivia doesn’t answer.
“What can I do to make this easier? The last thing I want is for you to be hurting. And I can hear your heart screaming with what you’re not saying.”
“I’m fine. I just I don’t have much to say.”
She’s lying. I know it. What was worse is she knows I know she’s lying. “Let’s put the radio on. Maybe we could find ‘I’ll be home for Christmas.’”
Olivia sighs, “No thanks.” She turns back to the window and remains silent until I pull into my driveway.
“If you don’t mind I’d like to go home.”
I hesitate. I could feel the emotional distance she’s creating. This time it isn’t my fault. She wouldn’t budge when I tried to push her away, now I feel like she’s on another continent. I have to reel her back in. “Sure. We could spend the night at your place.”
“I want to be alone.”
I take her face in my hands and smile. “Let’s elope.”
She looks defeated, “Not this again.”
“I can’t help if I’m crazy about you.”
She gives me a sad, halfhearted smile.
I pull her to my chest, bury my face in her hair, and take a deep breath. I get lost in the sweet scent of her perfume.
“Why don’t we go inside and pick up where we left off this morning?”
She shakes her head, “I have to be at work early tomorrow.”
“And?”
Olivia inhales deeply and sighs, “Sandy’s been on my ass for weeks.” She shakes her head looking tired and worn, “I’m not up for a confrontation.”
I run my hands up the back of her shirt. Since my words aren’t working, I think I might entice her with my touch. “It’s okay. I have an in with the boss.”
Olivia pulls back, her eyes glowing. “You’d do that?”
“What?”
“Speak to your father.”
Not this again. I sit back and shake my head. “I shouldn’t have said that. I’m sorry.”
“Oh.” Her normally dazzling, dancing eyes look sad and dull.
After a long pause I ask, “Why does this matter so much?”
“It doesn’t.”
“Don’t lie. You think making up with my father will make your parents happy.”
“It’s not about my parents. It has nothing to do with them.”
“I don’t believe you.”
Olivia presses her lips together into a thin line, “I think it would make you happy.”
I snicker. “I’ve been perfectly happy without him in my life. I don’t need his love or approval; all I need is you.”
“I just want someone to be happy. Is that so bad?” She doesn’t try to hide her frustration. “What a fucking thrill. We get engaged and everyone is miserable. Your mother hates me …”
“She doesn’t hate you.”
“Who are you kidding? She’d do cartwheels in the snow if I turned up dead in the morning. And it’s fine because my parents feel exactly the same way about you.”
Her words sting. Maybe it’s the cold, hard tone of her voice. I’d never seen so much cynicism spill out of Olivia and know she must be feeling awful. Dejected. I want to make it better, but not if it means speaking to my father. As much as I love her, I have my limits.
I pick up her hand and gently stroke my thumb over her soft skin, “I love you, Olivia. But I can’t do that.”
