Taking Chances (Sharing Space #4) Page 5

  “I’d suspected, but tonight confirmed it.”

  “I didn’t think so. Did Chloe tell you I work with welfare mothers, most of them ex-drug users, trying to help them get their lives back on track?”

  I nodded.

  “Well, I can tell you from experience doing that, and on the job for twenty years, that people cannot fight addiction until they are truly ready and, even then, they’re going to need a lot of support.”

  “I have to tell my parents.”

  “And it has to be soon,” she agreed, nodding her head.

  “I’m scared.”

  Admitting that took me by surprise. I’d just met this woman, was trying to impress her and show that I was good for her daughter, yet here I was, crying like a child.

  “I know you are, but you’ll do the right thing. Chloe was right.” She placed an arm around my shoulders. “You are a good guy.”

  “Thanks, Mrs. Brooks.”

  Telling my parents was going to be a nightmare, and what we could do, if anything, to save Charlotte was beyond me. I had no answers, but for just that moment I felt better.

  “Call me Adrian.”

  Chapter Seven

  The Two Thanksgivings, Part 2

  Chloe

  Patrick had been right: sleeping on the sofa was not a good idea. Between Charlotte’s appearance and meeting Patrick’s parents the next day, I was a ball of nerves. Sleep didn’t come easy and neither did peace of mind. After Charlotte left it was hard to get back into the holiday spirit. Patrick decided to put off telling his family about Charlotte until he could see them in person. I didn’t think it was such a good idea to divulge such information on Thanksgiving, but Patrick felt that the problem with Charlotte had been ignored long enough. My mother agreed, stating that the sooner they knew the faster they could all see about getting Charlotte some help and ease the burden on Patrick.

  I wasn’t sure what happened between my mother and Patrick after Charlotte left, but I wasn’t complaining. She seemed to have warmed towards him considerably and, in turn, Patrick seemed content to take her advice about a very personal situation. It was nice to see, but just increased my fears of meeting his parents.

  We’d spent the rest of the evening trying to make the best of things; Brianna and I watched The Sound of Music—a holiday tradition—and Crystal and Uncle Troy taught Patrick and Paul how to play Spades. Tired of losing, Patrick and Paul suggested poker after a while, and fed up with winning so easily Uncle Troy agreed. My mother insisted on cleaning the kitchen and putting the food away while all of this was going on. That was just one of many benefits to having my mother visit. Another was her ability to put everything into perspective and deliver sound advice, whether you wanted to hear it or not.

  Once everyone had gone home, my mother, Patrick, and I shared a bottle of wine while Patrick and I filled her in on the latest developments in our careers.

  “I have to say, I’m impressed that you’re going to be on Shining Moments,” my mother said, taking a sip of her wine then setting the glass on the coffee table. “I was afraid my daughter was getting involved with a freeloader.”

  “Ma!”

  “I’m just saying.”

  “It’s okay, Chloe. Your mother is right. I’d given myself another year or two tops before—“

  “Before what? Giving up on your dream?” I asked.

  Patrick shook his head. “I never looked at it that way. It’s just that I had to be realistic about my future, what I wanted for myself ten years from now. Still trying to make it happen wasn’t it.”

  “Very smart.” My mother nodded. “One of the girls I’ve been working with is pregnant for the second time by her thirty-five year old boyfriend. When I asked what he does for a living and if he could help support this family he’d created, she said he was an aspiring rapper. At thirty-five. At some point you have to stop trying to be something and just be something.”

  Her story made me think of Crystal and Jermaine. His name hadn’t come up once during dinner and I didn’t think Crystal had told Uncle Troy about him being back in her life. I could just imagine what my mother would say when she found out.

  “Okay. I’m going to get ready for bed. I’ll see you two in the morning.”

  We watched as my mother made her way down the hallway. A moment later we heard the bathroom door close.

  I scooted closer to Patrick on the sofa and placed my head on his shoulder. “I’m going to miss you tonight,” I said, placing my hand on his flat stomach. His body was perfection.

  “You can always change your mind, you know.”

  I lifted my head and kissed him before saying, “Slow your roll. Things with my mother didn’t go that well. She’s still old fashioned and I’m still her baby girl. Some lines you do not cross with your mama in the house.”

  He sighed and then kissed me back. “Fine. But when she’s gone, we’ll have a lot of lost time to make up.”

  “I’m looking forward to it.”

  ***

  When I woke the next morning my mother was already in our kitchen making breakfast. She handed me a steaming mug of cinnamon tea and I leaned against the counter to watch her cook. I blew into the mug for a few seconds and then took a sip.

  “Mmm. So good. Thanks.”

  “I know what my girl likes.” My mother said, smiling. She was already dressed in black slacks, comfortable shoes, and a cranberry colored turtleneck. Her hair was swept up into a bun.

  “You look too nice to hand out food.”

  “They’re homeless, Chloe, not blind,” she said, referring to the people she’d be serving Thanksgiving meals to at Uncle Troy’s church later that day.

  It was a family holiday tradition, one that started when my mother and Uncle Troy were children and continued on with their own children. Crystal and I used to hate it, but as we got older we appreciated it for what it was. Not everyone was as fortunate as our family and we were taught never to forget that. As I sipped the sweet tea I felt sad that I wouldn’t be there this year. Seeing the look on my face my mother asked, “What’s wrong with you?”

  I glanced towards the hallways.

  “He’s in the shower,” she said.

  “Patrick didn’t tell his family that I’m black and I’m scared. And annoyed, but mostly scared. This is hard enough, meeting his family for the first time. Not knowing that I’m black just adds a whole ‘nother level of unnecessary stress.”

  “What’s the worst that can happen, Chloe?”

  “How about they hate me on sight?”

  “Would that change how you feel about Patrick?”

  “Of course not, but—”

  “If I’d told you that I didn’t like Patrick because he was white would that stop you from being with him?”

  “No, but—”

  “You’re making this harder than it needs to be. Don’t get me wrong. I can understand that you’re upset he didn’t tell them ahead time, but you have nothing to worry about. A man like Patrick had to come from good people. You’re beautiful, smart, and accomplished. Any family would be lucky to have their son bring a girl like you home. They’ll love you. And if they don’t, you can tell them to kiss my ass.”

  We were laughing as Patrick entered the kitchen asking, “Who’s kissing ass?”

  “Never mind.” I mumbled and brushed past him to get ready.

  ***

  If I were at all superstitious I’d have changed my mind about going when I stepped in the dog poop outside our apartment building as we left for the train station.

  “There are laws against this, people!” I yelled to no one in particular.

  Patrick looked as if he wanted to laugh, but wisely didn’t. I let go of his hand and ran back inside to change my shoes. It had been that kind of morning. My body was achy from sleeping on the sofa.

  “I told you I’d sleep on the sofa and you could have had my bed.” Patrick said after I’d complained about my back.

  “Shhh,” I responded, glan
cing to make sure my mother was still in my bedroom. “I told you I don’t even want my mother to associate me with your bed in any kind of way.”

  Then the zipper on the skirt I wanted to wear had broken. My mother offered to fix it, but she was already running late to meet Uncle Troy uptown. When I’d finally settled on another outfit—a khaki colored empire waist dress with a full skirt and black shoes—I was disappointed to find I’d misplaced my favorite earrings. They were small diamond studs my mother had given me for my twenty-first birthday. I didn’t mention this to her because I didn’t want to get choked for the holidays. I settled on a pair of small silver hoops.

  We were a few stops away from Roman Glen on the Long Island Railroad when I started to feel a little better about meeting Patrick’s family. I repeated my mother’s words in my head.

  What’s the worst that could happen?

  I shifted the pink box tied with white string sitting in my lap. Its contents—pumpkin muffins with cream cheese icing—were warm against my legs. Patrick’s mother had insisted we not bring anything, but my mother taught me to never go to someone’s house empty-handed. It was just good manners.

  Patrick reached over and took my hand. “You look beautiful.”

  I smiled in return. “Thank you.”

  “Very Audrey Hepburn.”

  His comment made me think of Katherine Hepburn, which in turn made me think of Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner. I suppressed a giggle. Patrick leaned over and kissed me on the cheek.

  “Come on, this is our stop.”

  As we walked from the train station to his parent’s house I was struck by how much Roman Glen looked like it was plucked from a postcard. We passed through several tree-lined streets with neat yards surrounding quaint two-story homes. Most were already adorned with Christmas decorations.

  “I want to show you downtown real quick. It’s a bit out of our way. Do you mind?”

  “Of course not,” I told Patrick, tightening the belt of my black trench coat.

  It was early afternoon and the temperature was dropping, but I truly didn’t mind the extra walking. I was curious about the town Patrick grew up in, but the anxiousness about dinner had returned now that we were so close. I could use the additional time to calm my nerves. We linked our arms, bodies close together while Patrick held the muffin box tucked under his arm, and strolled down Patriot Street.

  “That’s the movie theater Paul, Max and I used to sneak into to see R-rated movies.” He raised the hand holding the box and pointed it towards a brick two-story building with a glass front and green awning. “And that’s Lots Pharmacy. My first after-school job was working there. It’s also where I bought my first pack of condoms.”

  I squeezed his arm and laughed. “That was a bit of sharing overload. Thanks.”

  We continued through another residential neighborhood, finally stopping in front of a large, two-story white house with black shutters. Two oak trees towered over the massive front lawn. I’m not sure why I was so surprised by their home; with seven children I could hardly have expected Patrick’s parents to raise their children in a hut.

  Still, this place is huge.

  We made our way up the front walkway lined with azaleas and turned right at the front door. Patrick led me down a path that hooked around to the side of the house. The screen door was unlocked, as was the wooden door beyond it. As Patrick entered the house without knocking I followed.

  There was a heavyset red-haired woman standing at the stove stirring the contents of a pot. Seated at the table were identical twin boys of about six, also with red hair, with crayons scribbling furiously into coloring books. The woman turned from the stove as we entered.

  “Patrick” she cried, grabbing him into a hug. “About time you got here.”

  “Hey, Maggie.” Patrick leaned over to kiss the two boys on their foreheads and tousle their hair. “What’s up, Michael? Mark?”

  “He’s Mark, I’m Michael,” corrected the twin in the red sweater.

  Patrick laughed and turned back to the woman. “Maggie, this is my girlfriend Chloe. Chloe, this is my sister Margaret.”

  “Nice to meet you,” I said, shaking her hand.

  “You too,” she replied with a warm smile.

  “Where is everyone?” Patrick asked.

  Maggie began putting crayons in their boxes and shooed the boys from the kitchen. “Go wash up for dinner. Let’s see, Mom and Dad are setting the table, Tommy and Kell are in the backyard with their boys throwing the football around. I think Liam’s upstairs and Cate isn’t here yet.”

  “Thanks.” Patrick turned to me. “Come on, let’s go see my parents.”

  “Patrick, let her at least take her coat off. Here, Chloe I’ll hang it up for you.” I shrugged out of my coat and Patrick did the same.

  “Who said I was taking yours?” Maggie joked. She draped both coats over her arm and left the kitchen.

  Patrick took my hand. “Don’t be nervous, okay?”

  “I’m not,” I lied.

  “Good.”

  We left the kitchen the same way Maggie had, but turned right. The long carpet-lined hallway ended at a curved arch that served as the entry to the dining room. Both of his parents had their backs to us when we approached. The carpet had muffled our footsteps. They were examining the contents of the top drawer of a china cabinet.

  “Sean, you take the silverware and I’ll get the napkins.” Patrick’s mother handed his father a large, black velvet silverware box. He accepted it and noticed us standing in the doorway.

  “Hey, Dad.”

  Mrs. Murphy turned from the cabinet holding white cloth napkins. She dropped them on the large mahogany table when she saw us.

  “Finally, Patrick! Come here.”

  We advanced into the room and made our way around the table so that Patrick could greet his parents properly. His mother hugged and kissed him on both cheeks. His father shook his hand and gave him a brief hug. It was obvious where Maggie got her red hair and figure. She and Mrs. Murphy looked remarkably alike. Mrs. Murphy had her red hair tied back at the nape of her neck and wore an apron over dark slacks and a white blouse.

  She and Patrick had the same eyes, but he looked more like his father. Mr. Murphy was tall and broad with dark hair that, like his wife’s, was peppered with gray. As their eyes traveled from Patrick to me I noticed their surprise. Brief, but surprise nonetheless. I gave myself a silent reminder to kill Patrick later.

  “Mom and Dad, this is my girlfriend, Chloe.”

  Mr. Murphy recovered first. “It’s good to finally meet you, Chloe.”

  “You too. Thanks for having me.”

  Mrs. Murphy smiled, but still didn’t seem to be over the initial shock. “It’s not a problem. Nice to have you here. Patrick has told us many good things about you.” She then gave her son a look that clearly stated he hadn’t told quite enough. If Patrick noticed the look it didn’t show.

  Mrs. Murphy refused any and all help in setting the silverware and napkins around the table and instead suggested we head out to the backyard to see the rest of the family. The remaining introductions were a blur and I had trouble keeping everyone straight. Thomas and Kellam were both firefighters, similar in look and build to their dad and Patrick, and married with a teenage son each. Their wives, Mary and Nicole, were nice enough and we exchanged small talk while the men talked football.

  At some point Catherine had arrived and it turned out she and Maggie were identical twins except Catherine wore her red hair cut short. She was, by far, my favorite.

  “Call me Cate,” she’d said after hugging me like we were old friends.

  I was in the family room watching as Liam played with the kids across the room when Cate approached.

  “I love my nephews, but I’m around children all day as a pediatrician. Mind if I hang out here?” Before I could respond she’d already sat down next to me on the loveseat, handing me a glass of wine.

  Cate visibly shuddered and took a healthy sip
of her wine every time the twins squealed with laughter. Liam was the sole male redhead in the family. He was short and stocky and stood apart from the rest of his siblings. Liam seemed to be more outgoing than the rest. We’d only had time to exchange a few small pleasantries before his nephews were begging him to play. It was easy to see why they were so anxious for his attention. He was like a big kid himself, rolling around the family room making animal noises.

  Cate leaned towards me and whispered, “I’m telling you, out of the four of us left, Liam will be the next one to have children. It sure won’t be me and my parents would shit kittens if it were Charlotte. Have you met Charlotte yet?”