Melinda
I take a moment to look around the long dining room table that has twelve seats. Only seven are in use. Lowe, Morri, Pap, Gerry, Catherine, Colt, and me. The table is a dark heavy wood that’s scarred by years of use. Catherine and Gerry Mancinkus had five kids plus Pap at most dinners, so a big table was needed.
I can’t really describe the feelings inside of me when Lowe asked me and Morri to dinner at his parents’ house tonight. In just three weeks, we’ve gone from enemies to friends to probably lovers at some point, and the inclusiveness of this entire family has touched me greatly. It’s one thing to invite into your home the woman who is killing a part of your family’s history, but to welcome in her gay, drag queen bestie takes hospitality to a new realm.
Right now, conversation is abundant. It’s been that way since Catherine said “grace” at the start of the meal. There was some general chitchat while platter after platter of food was passed around. Tonight, we feasted on fried chicken livers—which I loved but Morri turned green at the thought—rice, fresh tomatoes, corn on the cob, jalapeno cornbread, and a strawberry pie for dessert. I thought I was going to die at the end of the meal and was thankful I’d worn a loose-fitting bohemian dress to dinner so I didn’t have to have my waistband cut into my stomach.
Lowe leans back in his chair and casually drapes his arm around the back of mine. He doesn’t touch me, but the gesture is possessive. God help me, but I love it. I notice his mom gets all soft-eyed as she notices. Her gaze moves along to her husband, Gerry, who is talking to Morri.
Both Pap and Gerry were in the Marine Corps and they’re both a little gruff around the edges, but Pap has taken a liking to Morri. It seems Gerry has been openly tolerant, genuinely curious, and throughout the meal, the more he’s learned about Morri, the more involved he’s become.
Catherine stands up from the table and asks, “Anyone want another slice of pie?”
“I do,” Colt says and my gaze turns to him. He’s Lowe’s younger brother by five years and is the baby of the family at twenty-seven. He’s relatively quiet compared to the others, but he must have an outgoing nature as he bartends at Chesty’s sometimes.
Everyone else groans out a decline, but Colt is a big, big boy. He’s got Lowe by a few inches and maybe he’s still growing.
He waits patiently as his mom cuts and serves him another slice. “Thanks, Mama.”
“My pleasure,” Catherine quips in that sweet, sugary voice that’s so nice to listen to. She picks up the pie dish and turns toward the kitchen.
“I’ll help you clear the table, Mama,” Lowe says as he pushes up from the table. I just stare at him dumbfounded as he gathers up several empty plates.
Yes, I grew up in a wealthy environment. We had a full-time housekeeper and a cook, but we also did a lot for ourselves, particularly on the weekends when the staff was off.
In my entire existence, I don’t think I’ve ever been around a family meal where a man has jumped up to help his mother clear the table. I realize with horror that I’ve lived a stereotyped life of privilege, but also one of perhaps unrealized misogyny in my own household. I have two brothers, but they would never think to help my mom clear the dishes. Granted, we often had help do it, but on those family meals we had without staff being present—and let’s face it, we weren’t helpless people as we did know how to cook and clean up—I think my mother would have had a stroke if my dad or brothers got up to help.
And all I can think is that’s just plain wrong as I watch Lowe and Catherine grab mostly empty plates, bowls, and platters to carry into the kitchen.
It takes only a second to collect myself before I’m jumping up to help too. Morri glances inquiringly at me, but he’s in deep talk with Gerry so I give him a slight shake of my head that he should relax and continue.
I pick up my plate, Pap’s, who is sitting to my right, and both of our empty glasses, before following Lowe and Catherine into the kitchen. Mom and son stand hip to hip at the counter, rinsing plates and laughing about something.
“Here you go,” I say, hating to intrude, but also wanting to at the same time. I want to be up close and personal to see how a close mother-child relationship works. I never had it with my mother. Not that she was cold or unable. It’s just that our family wasn’t overly into each other due to timing issues. We loved each other… yes. But we were always doing our own things. Even as a child, I had music lessons and dance while my brothers played lacrosse and soccer. My parents had their thing with the country club, charity boards, and traveling. That’s not to say Lowe’s family didn’t have those same types of things going on, but I expect Lowe’s parents would have gone to all his football games, whereas my parents did not because they had their own things. Hell, my father traveled probably ninety percent of the time for his career and my mother went with him. We had nannies, au pairs, and housekeepers to look after us.
And I had my grandmother, Glory. She lived in our house, the regal matriarch of the Rothschild family, but she was always there for us kids.
Me especially because we were both female and just shared a love of certain things more than she did with my brothers.
I love my parents. I love my brothers. But I thought the sun rose and set on my grandmother, and her loss still hasn’t quite been fully absorbed by me yet. In some ways, coming here and buying Mainer House has helped to heal the hole in my heart, but in others, it hurts in a different way because I didn’t get to share any of this stuff with her except for her dementia-induced ramblings about her childhood growing up here.
Catherine turns to me with a warm smile, taking the dishes from my hands. “You don’t have to do that, honey.”
“And you didn’t have to cook such an amazing and delicious meal, opening your home to me and Morri, but you did,” I tell her with a grin.
“Touché,” she with an incline of her head, before jerking it back toward the swing-through door that separates the kitchen from the dining room. “When you go back in, ask if anyone wants a refill of coffee, please.”
“Got it,” I say, then I’m off to see to coffee and cleaning the rest of the plates from the table.
♦
“Well, got my belly full of another marvelous meal,” Pap says to his daughter-in-law as he pats his stomach. Catherine beams back at him, and it’s obvious they share a tight bond. “Better head to Chesty’s for my nightly beer.”
Lowe, Colt, and Gerry snicker and I suspect it’s because he used the word “beer” in the singular rather than plural.
We’d all gathered on the front porch after the kitchen was cleaned, Gerry sipping on a whiskey, the rest of us on sweet iced tea. The house had a long, wide porch that spanned the width of the structure, and was filled with rocking chairs, wicker loveseats, and a massive swing that could seat four at one end.
“Can I catch a ride back to town with you?” Morri asks Pap.
“Sure thing,” Pap replies as he stands.
“What’s wrong with riding with me?” I ask Morri with a cocked eyebrow. “I brought you here.”
“You’re coming to my house tonight,” Lowe announces, and there’s more snickering by all the men at the table except for Morri.
Okay, that’s awkward.
I shoot a glare across the porch at Lowe, who has been casually leaning up against the porch rail with his long legs crossed at the ankle. He shoots me an innocent look. “What?”
I glare at him harder. “Not cool.”
“Relax, Mely,” he says casually with a wink. “I just want you to come over for a bit and let me show you some old family photos I’ve got. Thought maybe your grandmother might possibly be in there.”
My face flames hotter than I’ve ever felt it before, and I’m struck with a moment of relief that he didn’t just tell his family that we’d be having sex, but then, I’m immediately filled with disappointment that it didn’t look like hot sex was on the agenda tonight.
God, Lowe is such a gentleman. It might actually be killing me with anticipation.
Pushing off the porch rail, Lowe walks up to me and extends a hand. “Ready to go?”
I smile up at him but I’m sure he can sense the retribution in my gaze for pulling my leg like that. Turning to look at his mom and dad sitting side by side on one of the white wicker loveseats, I say, “Thank you again for having me over for an amazing dinner.”
“Our pleasure,” Gerry says with a nod.
Catherine adds, “Door’s always open.”
Morri pops up from his chair and then walks to Catherine, extending his hand. “I’m flying out of here tomorrow so not sure when I’ll see you again.”
“Oh,” Catherine says in astonishment as she stands up, ignores Morri’s hand, and wraps him in a hug. “Well, we have so enjoyed meeting you and can’t wait for you to come back to visit.”
Gah… this family. They are amazing.
Gerry and Colt also stand up from their chairs. While I doubt they’re the huggy type with anyone, they each give Morri a sincere handshake, Gerry clapping Morri on the shoulder a few times.
Morri, Pap, Lowe, and I proceed down the porch. When we reach the bottom, I yelp as Lowe’s hand drops and smacks my ass. He leans down and whispers, “I’m serious about the looking at old pictures tonight. That’s all I have planned, then I want to get you home so you can spend the rest of the evening with Morri. But that doesn’t mean we won’t make out and maybe fool around a little.”
All the men are snickering again as they witness this, although I know they couldn’t hear what Lowe said.
“You’re rotten,” I mutter back out of the side of my mouth.
“And you love it,” he says confidently, his arm coming around my shoulder to pull me in close as we walk side by side.
And I do love it.
I really do.