Next To You

Holden

What is happening here? My mother just guessed that I met someone based on what? My outfit? My facial expression? I don’t even know. Then assume that said mystery woman is forcing me to lie about her existence? Sure, there’s someone I’d be interested in seeing, but aside from chance meetups at the library and a very brief text exchange, we’re virtual strangers. There is no “seeing”, so I am not lying about it. However, her reaction makes me want to reconsider being honest in the future.

This situation requires a rapid shutdown.

“I’m not seeing anyone. Honestly. I’ll let you know if that changes.” After this exchange, it might take a while for me to fess up if that changes.

“Don’t be daft, Holden. You can lie to your mother, but your face never could keep a secret. I don’t want to hear you’ve lost the plot over some cheeky bird set on getting in your pants.”

This is one of those moments in life, of which there have been many, when I’d rather eat my own pants than continue this conversation. “I’m going to visit with Grace.” At least she isn’t opinionated or judgemental. Just cute and gassy. I exit the kitchen without giving my mother a chance to continue on her irrational tirade, but instead of walking into the living room, I detour to the powder room down the hallway under the stairs.

I close the door behind me and pull out my phone to reply to Dina’s insinuation I’m blaming my plot expertise on Phoebe.

Holden: I’ve got a lot of second-hand knowledge. Trust me.

Any big plans for the day?

Subtle. I scoff at myself, then remember where I am. Along with the powers of perception, my mother can hear a pin drop from a mile away, but only if it’s one of her kids who drops it. The last thing I want is for her to stand on the other side of the door asking questions about my last bowel movement. I flush the toilet to keep up appearances, then turn on the water to wash my hands.

My phone buzzes as I turn the faucet off. A text message shouldn’t excite me as much as it does.

Minnie: Taking Nacho for a walk. Finishing this book, even though you spoiled the ending. Eating ramen. The usual.

You?

My mother’s overbearing nature may get on my nerves, but at least I don’t have to eat ramen. I respond as quickly as humanly possible so I can exit the bathroom before anyone gets suspicious.

Holden: Family dinner. I’ll text you later?

I tuck my phone in my pocket before I unlock the door and step into the hallway.

“Geez, Mum. What are you doing?” My heart jumps into my throat as I nearly crash into her just outside of the door.

“Thought I was going to have to repaint the lavvy.” She stares up at me, which she somehow makes intimidating, and suddenly I’d give anything to crawl back into my office and dive into historical British commerce.

These Sunday dinners become less and less appealing after each interaction. But I respect my mother—my parents—so I comply with their one request to show my appreciation for all they’ve done for us. Even if I’d rather hide in the loo and text Dina about made up plotlines and how hot I am… or whatever.

“Your paint is safe.” The olive green pedestal sink and matching toilet don’t leave a lot of suitable colour choices, so it’s a good thing. I need to steer this conversation elsewhere before she discerns anything else I don’t feel like discussing. “Do you need any help?”

“Set the table.” She dismisses me with a flick of her apron as she walks back into the kitchen. No matter how old I get, being in this house always manages to make me feel like a child again. Like I walk through the front door and I’m suddenly in the passenger seat of my own life. But instead of driving, I go set the table like a good boy.

Mercifully, dinner conversation is focused on Grace’s newest accomplishments, like sleeping for four hours at a time and cooing—which is likened to the most intelligent sound ever uttered. Words can’t express how grateful I am to not be the baby of the family anymore. Unsurprisingly, my mother is just as interested in Grace’s bowel movements and has no qualms about discussing them over our roast beef dinner—with gravy.

Hours later, Phoebe and Aaron are the first to make their escape, reasoning Grace needs to get home for her bedtime routine. I never want to be the first to leave because it’s always met with a guilt trip and reminders that I need to do more than study. A bit ironic, considering my mother stated earlier that she’s worried I’ll lose focus. After I help my mum clean up, I thank her, then Boyd and I leave at the same time.

On our short walk home, I pull out my phone and find a reply from my earlier message.

Minnie: Sorry for bothering you. Enjoy.

Shoot. She sent that three hours ago.

Holden: You didn’t bother me at all.

I start to write about our family phone rules, but that seems like a lame thing to share.

“What are you so stressed about?” my brother asks as we walk through our front door.

Boyd and I do not have the kind of relationship where we share our woes. He doesn’t express interest in my life, nor does he share anything about his. His question is unusual and makes me wonder if he’s playing spy for our mother.

“Nothing.”

Instead of sticking around to converse any more, I walk upstairs to my room, pick up the abandoned clothing I left on the floor earlier, and drop onto my bed. With one arm propped behind my head, I send a one-handed message to prompt a response from Dina.

Holden: How’s the book?

I scan my calendar app while I wait for a reply, adjusting my plans for the week to shuffle things around and add in some more study time.

A response pops up a few minutes later.

Minnie: You’ll never guess what happened.

Seeing her nickname pop up is like a breath of fresh air after dinner with my family.

Holden: In the book? I bet they live happily ever after.

Minnie: You really like to spoil the ending, huh? ;)