Member of the Family
House rolled over in bed and groaned. It was the knock. Two slow followed by three fast. Over the years the knock had changed, most of the people who knew to come to him in the dead of night had forgotten the exact rhythm, but whatever it was, he knew that it was trouble.
Cameron stirred quietly as House got up and headed towards the door. "Where are you going?" She asked sleepily. It was nearly two in the morning.
"There's someone at the door. Some old friends of…" He almost said ours. "Mine. Stay here." He instructed her.
She rolled over and closed your eyes. "K." She was exhausted.
He padded down the hall towards the door. He opened it quickly, looking both ways as he motioned the two men into the house. "Were you followed?" He asked, ushering them into the kitchen.
The first man, Petey, was older, with jet black hair, obviously dyed. He wore a beige suit with brown spectator wing-tips. A second, much younger, man of about twenty, was with him. He wore black slacks and a white shirt, stained with blood.
"Naw." Petey said, as he held up a very pale looking young man. "Didn't even speed on the way over. But we parked at the corner, like you like." He helped the kid into a chair at the dinette. Petey walked over to the fridge and peered in. "You got anything to drink? It's been a long night."
"Heineken. Help yourself." House ran the hot water while he went into the hall for his bag. He returned with a black, leather shaving kit and opened it up. "So what do we have? Gunshot?"
The kid nodded as House continued to wash with Betedine. He pulled on some latex gloves and rolled up a blood soaked sleeve. Petey sat down at the dinette and watched. "It grazed him I think."
"Good, one less piece of evidence that I need to get rid of. If you get pinched, and they ask you where you got patched up, you leave me out of it," he admonished.
Petey gave House a disgusted look. "Greggie…" He started.
House winced. "Didn't you get Georgie's nephew to be the team doctor? Why come to me?" He injected Xylocaine into the wound and then into the muscle before trying to debride it.
"That punk? First of all, he's still wet behind the ears; secondly, I don't trust him. He talks, and that wife of his is a real pill." Petey took a pull from the bottle. "Kid, I'll take you for some eggs when we get done here." He said, hoping to boost his spirits. "You wanna come?" He asked House.
House sighed, "No. You know I want out" he said simply, knowing in the back of his mind that there was no 'out'. He pinched the skin together to see if he could get by with suture strips; he decided to use stitches because they would leave a cool-looking scar.
Petey nodded, "Yeah. I'm sorry. But you're close and I've been doing business with you for twenty years." As if that would soothe him.
Fifteen stitches later and he was patched up and ready to travel. House pulled a prescription pad out of the kit and wrote on it. "Here's a 'scrip for some pain killers and an antibiotic. Take all of the antibiotic. Don't sell the pain killers." He reached into the cabinet and pulled down his bottle. He handed two tablets to the injured man and the paper to Petey. "You might want to get a tetanus shot. Tell the doc you scraped it on a nail in your garage or something. Tell him the emergency room ran out." He held out the paper to Petey. He turned to the kid, "Take those, you can have one every four to six hours until you run out."
Petey tried to decipher the writing and saw the information at the top of the pad, "Who's Lisa Cuddy?"
"Not me. I don't want any of this shit coming back to me." House said simply.
Petey stood and tried to put a wad of bills in House's hand. House waved him away. "Don't be like that. You're getting married. Buy your girl something nice. So when are you bringing her around? Your Aunt Arlene would love to meet her. Maybe throw her a shower."
Petey pressed and House nodded. "Soon Uncle Pete, soon." He put the crumpled bills on the counter.
Petey hugged and kissed him. "See that you do."
Just then Cameron came into the kitchen in her robe. "Hi. What's all this?"
House moved to close the shaving kit. "Nothing." He motioned towards the kid but realized that he didn't know his name. He gave Petey a helpless stare.
Petey smiled and embraced Allison. "I'm your Uncle Pete and this is Donnie, a friend of mine. He scraped his arm on a nail in the garage and we didn't want to wait around the emergency room for hours, so we came here. Greggie took care of it."
"Oh," she yawned, "Do you want some coffee?" She asked as she hugged back.
"No, we were just leaving. We'll grab something at a diner somewhere. Sorry to wake you up. Greggie, I'll call. We'll barbecue." He bundled up the kid and went out the door as quickly as he came in.
House reached for the bleach cleaner to tidy up. Roman wandered in from the living room to see what the commotion was. Cameron blinked in the bright lights. "So that was your uncle?"
House put the used paper towels in a plastic bag. "Yup. That was him."
"He seems nice." She said, putting her hand in the pocket of her robe. "Are we really going to barbecue with him?"
"Probably." House began washing his hands again, scrubbing roughly between his fingers.
As her eyes adjusted she noticed the money on the counter. "What's this?" She smoothed it out with her small hands.
"A present. Go out and buy yourself something pretty with it." He used a brush under his nails and then threw it away.
"Greg, there's five-hundred dollars here." Now she was starting to wake up.
"Yeah, Petey is generous." He yawned.
"We can't take it." She said simply.
"We can't not take it." He said. "Come on, I'm tired, let's go back to bed."
The invitation came a few days later. Allison got home early and found the message on their answering machine. "Hi Greggie and Allison! This is Aunty Arlene! Hello? Anyway, call me." Allison copied the number down on the pad by the phone.
By the time House got home spaghetti sauce was bubbling on the stove and a salad waited to be dressed on the dinette in the kitchen. Allison was on the computer, paying bills. He picked up the message, "What's this?"
Allison shrugged, "call your aunt," she said, manipulating the finance program from her bank.
House put it down and sat on an over-stuffed chair. Roman waddled over and sniffed at his shoes, too lazy to jump up to his lap. House picked him up and scratched behind his ears.
Allison finished up and closed the lid on her laptop. She handed House the message and the phone. "Go on."
"Are you sure you want to?" He glanced at the number, "I mean, they're all the way in Passaic."
"Yes. You met my family, now I want to meet yours."
He heaved a sigh. "Okay, but it's nothing like your family."
"I didn't expect it to be. I'm sure they're great." She addressed Roman, "Come on kitty, crunchy time."
Roman was torn for a moment between a warm, welcoming lap and his dinner. Dinner won and he followed her into the kitchen.
House got on the phone and dialed the familiar number.
"Yellow!" Arlene answered as she tried to deal with the typical dinnertime noise and confusion, "hang on a minute. I'm on the phone!" She shrieked at the cause of the din in the background. It abated somewhat.
"Hi Aunt Arlene." House involuntarily rolled his eyes.
"Greggie! Pete said he saw you the other night. How are you?" There was a muffled sound with the receiver and some echo, "I'm in the bathroom, I swear those kids are going to drive me crazy." There was the click of a lighter and the sound of a deep inhale.
"We're good. Allison said that you left a message." He prompted; Arlene could keep him on the line for a good hour if he let her.
"Yeah. Why doncha come over for Sunday dinner? We'd love to meet Allison and Denise is coming with her kids. It's been too long." She puffed on her cigarette again.
House consulted his watch, two minutes before the guilt-trip, a new record. "Okay. Sunday. Around 1:00? What can we bring?"
"Can she cook?" Arlene asked incredulously, "Never mind, just bring yourselves."
"Okay, we'll see you then." He hung up and was consumed with dread.
"So?" Allison asked, holding a wooden spoon.
"Sunday dinner." He said.
"Great. What do I wear?"
Sunday dawned overcast and rainy. It matched House's mood. He sat in his sweats and Pink Floyd T-shirt flipping through the channels. He let it rest on VH1. Allison ran around dressing with hot rollers in her hair. "Aren't you going to shower?" She asked.
House looked around, confused by the question. "Yes. When we're ready to leave."
"It's nearly eleven. We need to leave in a half-hour or so to get there in time." She waved a large envelope at her head, to cool down from the heat of the rollers.
"Don't worry, One, closer to two, it doesn't matter." He refused to budge.
Allison snagged the remote and turned off the TV. "Go on, we're going to be on time." She gave him a look that would freeze water.
He grumbled all the way to the bedroom.
They arrived at 12:55, bearing a basket of wine. Arlene answered the door with the phone on her ear, "they just got here," she said as she kissed House and Allison, "let me sit with my company for a minute." There was a beat, "so get here when you get here. Oh, and bring me some butter, I'm nearly out." She turned her attention to Greg and Allison. "Oh! She's beautiful, come on in, get out of the wet!" She ushered them into a seldom used sitting room. It sounded like four kinds of hell were going on in other regions of the house, but the pristine, white and gold toned living room was peaceful.
An old Bassett hound had flopped on the floor and snored loudly while Arlene chatted with her guests. "Greggie, it's been too long. We've missed you. Denise is coming with her kids. They're all so grown up now. Do you mind if I smoke?" She asked as she lit a Pall Mall. "Pete! Stay out of the gravy!" She screamed in the direction of the kitchen. "He's always in the damn gravy." She commented. "So Allison, how'd you and Greggie meet?"
"We work together." Allison said softly, a bit intimidated by the noise.
House leaned over the bronze and glass coffee-table, and attempted to loosen a yellow, cellophane wrapped candy from the dish. He pulled out a sticky mass. "Arlene, has this been here since the Carter Administration?" He asked with a smile.
Arlene laughed, "Put that back. When you find me some that match, I'll replace them. So Allison, let me see your ring."
Allison extended her hand and Arlene screamed, "Oh! That is be-you-ti-ful, Greggie; you know Pete has a friend…" She started.
"It was an impulse purchase in Spain." House offered by way of an explanation.
"MA!" A voice called from the back of the house. Barking of a small dog punctuated the cacophony.
Arlene rose, "Allison, keep me company in the kitchen, I think they're going to kill each other in there. Greggie, go help Pete, he's cleaning the calamari."
House wandered to the covered patio, where men were standing around as Pete was elbow deep in something that looked and smelled incredibly unpleasant.
Arlene was a thin woman with dark, short hair that stuck up at odd angles all over her head. She wore light colored jeans with a peacock pattern embroidered on them. A silk top, gold loafers and a gold belt completed her outfit. A thick gold rope hung around her neck with a large turquoise jewel pendant hanging from it. She gave a massive pot of marinara a stir as she pointed to a small yorkie yapping insanely. "Pick him up." She instructed.
Allison picked up the small dog and it licked her face. She laughed, "What's your name?" She asked the dog. It barked in response.
Arlene laughed, "He thinks he's people. His name is Tipi. I've always had a dog named Tipi." She explained.
"Hi Tipi." Allison said as she watched Arlene stir the sauce. "So what do you put in your sauce?" It smelled really good.
"Here. Taste." She dipped a piece of one of the loaves of crusty Italian bread that were piled on the counter. "Where most people go wrong is in putting too many different ingredients in."
"Delicious." Allison agreed.
"Good Italian tomatoes, crushed, puree. Fresh garlic, olive oil, onion, basil. You know, the regular stuff." She reached over and splashed some red wine into the pot. "That never hurts either."
"What about peppers?" Allison asked.
Arlene shook her head, "I like them in some things, but I put them on the side, never in the gravy." She poured two glasses of wine and handed one to Allison. "Salud".
Allison toasted back and sipped the wine out of the tumbler. "Mmm. That's good."
"Pete brought home a case. It's nice." She agreed. Arlene opened the oven to check on foil covered casseroles. "We'll eat when Denise gets here."
A tall, muscle-bound man came into the room, carrying a boy of about four. "MA! Can you keep him out of my stuff? He stinks like a…" He looked over at Allison and smiled, "He stinks. He's got my cologne all over him." He extended his hand, "I'm John."
Allison took it and found his handshake strong without crushing her. "Allison," she said, introducing herself, "nice to meet…"
"He's your son Johnny." Arlene complained, "But that is strong. Come here." She took the boy by the hand and opened the arcadia door leading onto the back patio. "Pete! Come take JJ." She left him out there to watch his grandpa eviscerate squid.
"John, hurry up. Put on a shirt, Denise will be here any minute." He hulked back towards his room in the back of the house. "He just got back from the gym. I swear, all those muscles and for what?"
Allison raised an eyebrow in agreement and said nothing.
The sound of slamming doors could be heard in the driveway. "They're here!" Arlene wiped her hands on a dish towel and hustled to the front door. "Oh! My babies!" She exclaimed.
Allison peered around the corner and saw a flurry of activity punctuated by small children, shopping bags and large, plastic toys. She felt trapped. She didn't know anyone and she didn't know what she was expected to do.
"Hi! I'm Denise!" A large-ish, dark haired woman embraced her. "So you're the one who landed Greg?"
Allison smiled weakly. "Yes." Is there a good way to answer that question?
"Welcome to the family. We're all crazy, but kind-hearted." She dropped a pile of shopping bags on the kitchen table. "Ma, you need any help?"
"No, I figure we'll eat in a few minutes. Now that you're here. Go say 'hi' to Daddy." Arlene started to dish things up nodding towards the door.
Denise and Allison went onto the patio. An old, avocado-colored fridge stood next to a table where Pete was dredging squid to be fried in a propane fueled fryer. "Denise!" He cried, presenting his cheek towards her to kiss. "You look beautiful!"
"Thanks Daddy." She walked to the fridge and got out a can of Fresca. "Allison, you want a Fresca, or a Diet Coke?" She offered.
"Fresca? I haven't had that in years." Allison held out her hand for the cold can.
Pete laughed, "We'll never run out of Fresca in this house."
Allison popped the top on the can and took a sip. "Oh. That's exactly like it was twenty years ago."
House sat in a patio chair and smiled benevolently. The malodorous JJ was teasing Tipi, who barked happily. Pete watched as the squid bobbed and snapped as it fried to a crisp golden brown.
Pete admired his handiwork, a plate full of rings and tentacles, all ready for the table. "The trick, Greggie, is to threaten it. Just a minute or so, that's all you need. Otherwise it gets all tough.
Arlene stuck her head out, "Okay! Bring it in!"
Everyone formed a procession to the dining room. A large stone and glass table, with black upholstered chairs dominated what could have been a boardroom. The table nearly buckled under the weight of the dishes. Five of the chairs were augmented with booster seats or replaced with high chairs as various children took their places between their parents or likewise responsible adults.
There was a moment of quiet before everyone began filling their plates. Pete stood up and held his full glass aloft, "To my family."
Everyone else lifted a glass and toasted in agreement. "Salud," bubbled around the table.
Arlene smiled at the vast number of dishes, "Dig in! It's getting cold."
Greg began piling his plate. He noticed that Allison seemed frozen, "What's wrong?"
"I don't know what any of this is." She said, "Where do I start?"
Pete smiled and passed her the platter of squid. "Ali, can I call you Ali? Take some of the rings. Squeeze some lemon and dip them in the marinara."
House piled a few on her plate, then he reached for the antipasto, and gave her some olives, artichokes, fresh mozzarella and roasted peppers. "Start with that."
Allison looked at her plate, "Start?"
The rest of the afternoon passed in a blur of food, screaming and kids bouncing off of walls.
Only as it grew late, and all the kids had passed out in puddles of sugar-sticky drool, were they on their way back home. Allison balanced a bag of containers on her lap. "So they think this will just be another meal? We can live off of this for a week." She paused for a minute as House increased the speed of the wipers in the rain. "So your Dad is Italian?" She tried to make it fit.
"No. Aunt Arlene is my Dad's sister. Her husband is Italian." He explained.
Allison grew confused, "But she seems so…"
"Carmella Soprano?" He guessed.
"Well, perhaps not quite Carmella." She admitted, "What does Uncle Petey do anyway?"
"He works for an auto parts company." He waited to see if she would buy it.
"Really." It was said with all the skepticism she could muster.
"That's his story. He's worked there for years." He pulled off at their exit and the rain subsided some as he decreased his speed and drove down the street towards home.
"So when Arlene invited me to come with her to a special sale, it's okay for me to go?" Allison smiled in the darkness. She could almost hear the gears in his head moving.
"She invited you to go?" He asked.
"Yup. Denise, Arlene and I. We're going to lunch after. So it's okay. Right?" She shifted in the seat and the bag rustled. Thankfully, nothing leaked.
"Bring cash." House said as he pulled into the driveway. "And let her drive."