As you all have already deduced, this chapter's title is a homage to our beloved Lady.
As I've said before, I consider The Lady Frost the fandom householder when it comes to fanfictions so, when the possibility to name a chapter after her popped up in my head, I simply couldn't resist and asked for her permission.
Please, take this long, quirky, bothersome chapter as it comes. Don't hate me too much for stealing your time so shamefacedly eh eh eh
IMPORTANT: you can find new floor maps of the location involved in this chapter on my Instagram ( masteroffangirlingart).
Chapter 27 – The Lady Frost
Part 1 – Clock
"Claire, sweetie, can you please take this to the car?" Lily asked.
It was hardly half past three in that Wednesday afternoon and the Redfield house was in a hustle and bustle, insomuch that the front door was kept open to facilitate the departure preparations. The family was driving over to the grandparents' cottage in the Arklay Forest in order to stay the night and celebrate the upcoming Thanksgiving all together on the following day. The big family car was patiently waiting on the frontside sidewalk with the trunk's door open as Robert loaded it with travel bags and presents, playing strategic Tetris since steep hairpin bends happened to be in the offing.
"Claire?" Lily insisted since her daughter hadn't bothered to reply, though she could clearly see her standing by the big oval mirror overhanging the entryway narrow cabinet.
"Mh?" the girl absently hummed as she adjusted the coat's collar around her neck.
Lily emerged from the dining room holding a potted houseplant wrapped in crispy red plastic foil and handed it to her. "The anthurium. Please, put it into the trunk, make sure it won't overturn." Lily gently commanded, nodding at the car to invite her daughter to move in the same direction.
Just as the mother spoke, Chris hopped down the stairs with his suitcase. The siblings exchanged a quick look before Claire turned and left with the anthurium firmly held in her arms. The complete absence of hurry in her movements, made it look like she'd just given him a terribly cold shoulder. Chris pretended to ignore it as he sat his suitcase on the floor although his slightly curved down pout betrayed bitter discouragement.
"Oh, Christopher, darling, you take these." Lily said, taking advantage of the newly arrived oblivious labourer to enslave him with urgent chores. "Watch out. It's Barolo."
"It's a what?" Chris asked taking the rigid paper bag in his hands. Based on the clink, he inferred it contained glass bottles. Two at least.
"Just know it's expensive." Lily underlined.
Shrugging and unwilling to figure out how many dollar-bills worth he was carrying, Chris grabbed his suitcase and dragged it along to the front driveway, just as his father shut the trunk and walked his way home.
"Be careful with that." Robert warned, pointing a finger at the paper bag as he trotted past his son.
"Sure." Chris half-heartedly replied.
"Sit it in the passenger seat!" Robert shouted over his shoulder while crossing the front porch. "Keep it vertical! Mind the sediment, son!"
Robert quickly inspected the state of the living room to check he hadn't forgotten to pick anything. Window shutters down, fire extinguished, all clear. Good. No daylight filtered down the staircase from upstairs so he could rely on his kids to have obeyed his instructions to shut every window. Robert then walked to the kitchen, where his wife was giving the final touches to the brown wrapping paper she'd enveloped a cake with.
"What's left to take?" He asked.
"Just this pumpkin pie." Lily answered, placing the last piece of tape on it and slid it upon the quartz top towards her husband. "There."
"Fine, I'll take care of it." Robert said, holding the pie on his fingertips like an experienced waiter. "You fetch your purse and we're done."
The mental checklist kept going better and better.
"Are the kids in the car?" The woman asked, putting the scotch tape roll back into the drawer.
"I think so, yes." Rob shrugged as they walked through the dining room. "Anything new about them?"
Lily sighed and shook her head. "Unfortunately, no. Still being cold to each other."
"Tsk, we raised two drama queens!" Robert scoffed in derision while Lily unhooked her violet coat and grabbed the matching purse. At his wife's dirty look, he hastened to act like the good father he was. "This little trip will surely do them good."
"Absolutely." Lily agreed as her husband held the front door open to gallantly give way to her. "They totally need a change of scenery."
"And if that's not enough, we'll feed them to my mother." Robert snickered. "She'll stun them with her travel memoirs!"
"I just hope they won't cast a gloom over the house." Lily said in low tones, not to be heard from the car, while looking for the keys in her purse. "Things get so heavy when they're around each other."
Robert glanced at the car's direction. He could see the silhouette of his daughter's head beyond the windowpane, and his son's nape as he leant against the other side of the car, taking advantage of the spare time for one last cigarette before the half-an-hour-long ride. "Oh, you know these-days kids…" He shrugged. "They fight over everything. It'll be over in a week."
"What makes you think so?"
Robert flashed a malicious grin over his shoulder and hopped down the four wooden steps. "Daddy instinct."
Lily extracted the key from the keyhole and shoved it back into her purse. "We can sleep tight, then." She sarcastically mumbled to herself.
To leave long before the rush hour turned out being a winning idea. The traffic flew splendidly. It was a beautiful afternoon. The temperature outside would certainly drop as soon as the sun would set but there was something alluring about Raccoon City engulfed in such sharp, dry atmosphere and bright wintry sunlight. As if the prelude of a shiny wintertime stirred already in the clean air and the city meant to celebrate Thanksgiving Day by releasing all its fizzy appeal and energizing beauty.
Sitting on the backseats, Claire watched the city landscape flow before her eyes in a state of unsensitive absentmindedness. She sat all curled against the car door, her head dropped against the windowpane. Nothing seemed to hit her in the eye, not even the placid glimmering of the river they'd just crossed. At least not until her blue eyes fell onto the elegant clock tower of Saint Michael's cathedral as her mother drove into the wide roundabout with the marble statue in the middle. There Claire seemed to return back to Earth just to upcast her look to the big clock and frown slightly as though time ticking suddenly annoyed her. Maybe it wasn't going fast enough. Or maybe it was the other way round.
The phone buzzed in her hand.
Chris: can we please act normal today? I don't want to get granny and grandpa worried.
Her brother shared the backseats with her but it looked like there were miles between them – and not only in a physical way. Since Jill's birthday party on Sunday and the heart-breaking way it'd ended, things between Chris and Claire had dropped dramatically. Nothing seemed to be able to stop the falling out. If, until that depraved night, they would overall still seek each other's presence in the general avoiding scheme, now they would downright shun each other. As a matter of fact, and this honestly hurt Chris in the softest core of his good heart, it looked like Claire shunned him all day, not otherwise.
The big boy had spent a good part of last Sunday night overthinking in his bed all the mistakes that had piled up in the turn of a few hours, going back with his mind up to the beginning of the end for them. How many things had he done wrong? How much had he done wrong to his sister! He'd lastly fallen asleep questioning himself what he would change if he could turn back time. He'd slept dreaming he'd changed only the ending.
Claire turned her phone screen off and resumed her bored sightseeing. Basically, she left him on read, the whole scene happening right under Chris's eyes.
He had no idea how to find a way to communicate with her anymore. Sensing his sister growing progressively offish towards him, in the last two days Chris had attempted a gentle, caring approach in those few moments she was around, that is to say during dinner and breakfast since she just was not around during the rest of the day. Most of the times she hadn't even been home: Jill's, Rebecca's, the library, ballet school, every other place seemed better than her own home!
Simple attentions, to be easily mistaken as good manners by a stranger's eye but that bore all the supplication for forgiveness by someone who knew had done wrong and abused her weaknesses. Contrary to his good-hearted intentions though, his cares only resolved into lame attempts to behave well by a clumsy dumbass who tried too hard. None was successful.
Anytime she'd push him away.
Anytime she'd regard him with a look full of resentment, as to warn him there was absolutely nothing he could do to erase what he'd done to her. Her accusing look couldn't be like that forever, Chris hoped, she had to get over it someday! She couldn't be mad at him forever. It can't take so little to end their relationsh- their bond like that! They were definitely more than a necking extorted by malice. They were more than their sin.
Chris had started to think Claire was purposefully giving him a taste of his own medicine, to make him pay for those times he'd acted the same – like after the closet affair. And this angered him.
Chris: Can I take it as a yes?
Chris: Cause I can't read minds but it looks like a damn no.
Sensing his eyes on herself, Claire quietly sighed and decided to read his messages. With the corner of his dark eye, Chris observed her typing and typing, then stopping then typing again, quite holding his breath as he'd apparently found a way to get her to speak to him again – although only through the pixels of a screen. The car already skimmed the northernmost outskirts of the city when her message was delivered.
Claire: ok.
Chris didn't even bother to click on the pop-up notification. The preview was more than enough to push him to angrily hurl his phone on the seat next to him.
The gravel crackled below the wheels as Lily drove into the tree-lined alleyway that connected her in-laws' cottage to the main route, a few yards deeper into the woods. Usually, during spring and summer, the crisscrossed highest branches would give you the impression of walking below a luxuriant, bright green vault. The earthly incarnation of komorebi heaven. A leafy tunnel transporting you to another dimension on the other end. Nevertheless, it preserved its appealing charm even once November's wind had swept away all the coloured leaves from the branches. Only conifers offered a break from the overall dark cold brown of the nude trees, with their typical dark shade of perennial green. Winter started earlier in the mountainside respect to the milder valley where Raccoon City lay.
Mary and John's brick cottage was encircled in trees and quiet.
There was something European about the architecture but one could hardly tell what. Maybe it was the incredibly acute angle of the roof, or the stone chimney, or maybe the reddish ivy climbing up a part of the façade and the evergreen shrubs in the stone flowerbeds. What once was the vacation house to John, Mary and their three kids, had lately turned as the perfect retirement home.
Lily parked near the short brick wall delimiting the courtyard from the forest. Being the keeper of the trunk puzzle solution, Robert jumped out the car straight away to be the one running the unloading procedure.
"Christopher, please, would you take care of the wine?" Lily asked, nodding at the paper bag sitting on the passenger seat like a baby king on a throne.
"Sure."
"Claire, I'll leave the plant to you."
As Chris turned to unfasten the safety belt, he took a quick look at his sister. The pained look on her face was enough to make him utterly stop doing anything. Claire had grasped the belt too and positioned a hand on the orange button to unclasp it but she was evidently hesitant to do so. Chris made sure their mother got out of the car before he cast all his attention back onto his sister. She seemed frozen. He couldn't speak since Robert was digging waist-high into the trunk and could hear them, so he just slid a hand over the central seat and rested it onto Claire's.
Two sets of eyes met, the one worrying, the other shielding. His mouth smiled a little, faintly, just to instil her a little strength, in the hope she'd appreciate it. As though he wanted to promise he'd do nothing to make her stay stressful and state clear he truly wanted to act normal for a day. And not only to keep their grandparents oblivious.
"I wish I was ten thousand miles away." Claire whispered and the button under their hands clicked.
"Nice to see you! Welcome home!" Grandpa John laughed, towering splay-armed in the doorframe to greet the small procession of relatives and travel bags into the house. "How's my little Claire? Come here, darling!"
Claire let her granddad cuddle her in his ponderous embrace and pressed a kiss onto his wrinkled cheek. "Nice to see you too, Grampy. Where's Granny?" She beamed.
"If I had a buck for any time I knew what your grandmother was up to I'd be quite poor, my dear girl." John cackled, letting go of his granddaughter to direct his moustached smile at Chris, who patiently queued behind Claire for his turn. "My boy…!" And rested a few sound pats on his grandson's strong shoulders.
"Guess these are for you, Grandpa." Chris smiled, handing the precious paper bag to John who whooped and whistled as soon as he saw its content.
Before walking past him to greet his son and daughter-in-law, John leaned on and whispered into his grandson's ear. "I have a thirty-year-old bourbon in store for us. Fucking red wine who?" A wry grin flashed below his wink. "Lily! As enchanting as ever!"
Still carrying the anthurium to deliver, Claire wandered between the near lounge, the dining area with its inlaid solid-wood table and wall-long cupboard stuffed with exotic pieces of art and fancy goods and, lastly, the small kitchen. Her grandmother was nowhere to be found. At least, not until Claire peered through the stained glass in the backdoor.
"Granny!" Claire exclaimed, with a big smile plastered onto her face, breaking into the porch where her grandmother was taking off the dirt-soaked plastic boots she'd worn to feed the hens.
Grandma Mary quite winced in surprise and smiled brightly at Claire, with that smile that instantly revealed whom the young girl had got hers from. Anytime Mary smiled, years seemed to fade away from her wrinkled face.
Both Claire and Chris were very fond of their grandmother.
An amiable, eccentric, relatively old woman who, in spite of the liberty in her spirit and her radical beliefs, still fervently arrogated to herself the right to braid her long silvery hair around her head in an old-fashioned, classy hairstyle.
Updo by day, loose and wild by night, she'd always say, not without a pinch of personal cheekiness.
Not that appearing put together was her priority. She'd just rather take longer in the morning to get ready since she had no time or patience to waste pushing her hair aside during daytime. A woman must've plenty of more important business to take care of than to comb hair all day long, she'd repeat every time.
Not being one easily prone to nostalgia, Mary somehow relished in watching how age left its mark on her day by day. Every crease around her eyes, every pale liver spot on her hands, every white hair, she wore it all with the pride of a girl. Old outside, young inside.
Although contradictory in the appearance, Mary still radiated the charm of the glorious days she'd spent traveling in beat-up Volkswagen vans during the early sixties. Not even to marry her exact opposite in a man had slightly scratched her quirky persona. Not that it wasn't precisely what had made the then U.S. Army Sergeant John Redfield fall for her, though!
When they were little kids, the siblings believed their granny was kind of a witch.
Claire, in particular, liked to believe her charismatic grandmother was able to command the sky when to snow and when to be sunny, since back then she had no idea the tv forecast was more than just a boring interruption of her favourite cartoons. Mary had this incredible ability to make everything look like an adventure, from having breakfast to going down the near river on a hike. Her passion for travels and all the curious souvenirs she'd bring back would only exaggerate the fascination of her. Her mature, tremulous and gruff voice spellbound the young audience any time she'd either recount tales from abroad or simple daily mishaps.
Since she'd just returned from a long trip across Europe she'd taken with a couple of fellow ladies from the local book group, everyone was super excited to meet her again after all those weeks she'd been away.
"Oh, darling! My lovely Claire!" Mary theatrically splayed her arms and welcomed Claire into a warmest hug. "Is it you?"
Claire released an uncertain laugh. "Yeah, it's me. Who else could it be?"
"Oh, you never know these days…" Mary shrugged and one-handedly took off the headscarf. "But what have we got here?"
Claire gave her the anthurium and then together they went back inside the cottage to join the rest of the family. Chris was the first one they met. Of course. He just stood there, uncomfortably fiddling around the couch while Lily and Robert were still by the entryway with John and the luggage, praising the qualities of some Piedmontese vineyard they'd read about in some flyers by the wine shop.
Grandma and grandson exchanged two affectionate kisses on the cheeks and a tight hug. Chris found his grandmother's grey eyes sparkling in joy and emotion when pulling back. There was something in her stare that put him in great discomfort – which was absolutely unusual – and ease at once. There was something different about his grandma, the unseasonal tan perhaps, or rather the depth her gaze reached into him, who knows. Had she done something to her hair? Maybe the Mediterranean sun had whitened it even more…
"How was Europe?" Chris asked.
"Oh, you should totally see it one day!" Mary smiled. "Both of you."
"I hope I will, Grandma." Chris smiled.
"Consider it for your senior trip." Mary enthused. "You could bring Claire with you and go together before you leave for college."
Claire and Chris exchanged a look that spoke volumes about their present situation.
Umpf, no way!
Hadn't he been so hurt, Chris would've found Mary's idea even funny: when someone tells you she only wants to be as far as possible from you, the last thing you should – or would – do is to go on vacation with her anywhere. Honestly, the mere thought of it was suddenly displeasing to him. Weeks and weeks in a foreign land with someone who barely considers you as part of her days. He'd rather stay home and save money, as there wouldn't be much difference. Once more, the context was meaningless.
"I'll keep that in mind." Chris cut short.
"Europeans are so fascinated by Americans, you know. To them we're either the ones who sailed away... long ago..." Mary continued, exaggerating a note of romanticism in her speech. It was so uncharacteristic of her that the siblings suspected she was just making it up. But the mellow parenthesis didn't last long since her usual cheeky cynicism broke back in. "… Or the golden goose to pet and squeeze for eggs."
Chris exhaled a laugh. Now he recognized his grandma in that old lady. "Better steer clear then."
"Oh, don't mind my ravings." Mary smiled. "I'm sure a good-looking American boy like you would get all the hottest chicks at his feet! Don't you think so Claire? Isn't he sexy as fuck?"
As Mary turned to address an excited gaze at Claire, Chris's eyes followed in tow, looking at his sister in discomfort.
Sexy as f-fuck?! Jesus, Granny!
With too many eyes set on her, Claire's mouth went immediately dry. She didn't know what unsettled her the most, whether the malicious grin of Mary or she calling girls chicks and making them yearn only for a boy to fall for. Southern Europe must've spoiled her sense of humour for sure. To be honest, the only spoiled ones there were just Chris and Claire as the secret they carried pushed them now to see malice in everyone. Not to mention their eagerness to pretend everything was fine only made them appear as awkward as they come.
"I wouldn't bet on it and I don't really care." Claire shrugged, deadpan, feigning to be unconcerned by such question. "I rather care about presents. Have you got anything for me, Granny?" Claire asked, eager to change the subject.
"Oh, she has!" Grandpa John intervened. "She left with two bags, she came home with four. I'll leave the math to you."
Mary sniggered in excitement. "Oh, I've got a present for each of you! Lily, dear, have you seen my new Swiss clock?"
As Mary proudly showed her daughter-in-law the cuckoo clock hanging above the fireplace, Claire and Chris exchanged a look full of resentment.
Part 2 - Drawer
"Robert, I set up the guest bedroom for you and Lily." Mary said, accompanying her guests up the walnut-wood staircase, to settle themselves in their rooms and unpack in peace. "The kids will stay in you and William's old room."
Claire dragged her travel bag into the bedroom at the bottom of the narrow corridor, quite annoyed by the sound of Chris's trolley wheels rolling right behind her heels.
The furniture in the room was quite simple: a chest of drawers, a bedside table, and a bunk bed, each piece in matching maple wood. The white walls were completely devoid of posters or pictures of any sort. Mary and John had settled in there full-time only when their sons were already grown-up adults with homes on their own, so there weren't many traces left of the passage of two reckless children like Robert and his younger brother. The only remarkable thing was the round window opposite the beds, overlooking the forest.
It wasn't the first time Claire and Chris stayed overnight at their grandparent's but, usually, they would just be given two separate rooms. This time though, since aunt Matilda was supposed to join a day earlier too, they had to compromise.
"Do you mind if I take the lower one?" Chris asked. "I gained some weight since the last time I slept in a bunk bed and I just don't trust this old wood."
Claire shrugged.
"You know, I'd get away with little bruises if you're the one crashing down." Chris half-heartedly joked. "If it has to happen…"
"I'd still land onto the mattress, though." Claire mumbled, deadpan.
"Guess I'll be good and sandwiched then." Chris chuckled. He warmly smiled at her direction. "But it has better to be me than the other way round."
Chris watched Claire kneel and unzip her bag in order to arrange her clothes in the drawer. It was his occasion. He turned and pulled the door to, until a narrow crack was all that still robbed them of complete privacy. He cleared his throat and looked at his sister who, by a chance, glanced at him too and quietly sighed to herself as it looked clear he wanted to talk. She was in no mood for long, tiring apologies nor for his attempts to play the caring brother role either. She only wanted to sink into her bed and sleep the rest of the day away. Ugh, maybe the rest of the week. Or the rest of her life as well.
"Do you want me to sleep somewhere else?" Chris asked, speaking in hushed tones.
"Where about?!" Claire scoffed. "If there were any vacant rooms, you and I wouldn't even be having this talk."
So, allegedly, she caressed the idea of him not sharing the bedroom with her. Hadn't Chris been so determined to make those days they had to spend there go as smooth as possible, he'd be surely pricked.
"There's still the couch." Chris gingerly suggested. "I can… I can fit in."
Claire sighed loudly and shut her eyes. Maybe to conceal an eyeroll, or maybe to take a grip on herself. "No." She uttered, standing up. "I don't want you to sleep with your knees tucked up to your mouth." She swallowed and continued. "And I don't want to have to give any explanations to the others."
"We want the same things." Chris muttered.
Headshaking, he took a step forward, determined to talk it out with her now that they were alone and no phone-screens were in between so she couldn't leave him on read again. But Claire retracting from his approach was like a stab in the chest.
So, that's how she meant to spend that holiday. Chris couldn't stand the idea of more days of rejection, silence, shunning. He needed a break from all that. If she wanted to punish him, fine! She'd already returned it all up to the last bit! Now stop. Enough. No more punishment. Why did Claire refuse to see?! He was falling apart and she simply didn't care.
To avoid hurting her in turn, Chris angrily lifted his bag and thrusted it onto the lower bed in an unsuccessful attempt to vent his frustration. He turned away from her and leaned against the upper bed frame to leverage on it for support. "I can't grant you ten thousand miles, but I'm doing my best to let Your Highness enough personal space!" He snarled, tight-lipped.
Claire downright ignored him.
"Fine!" Chris gruffly roared. He clenched his jaw as another retch of anger built into his stomach, ready to be sputtered out like poison, but the door swinging open silenced him. Friendly reminder to keep his tongue at bay until people were around.
He'd better cool down fast.
Grandma Mary entered the room and arched a questioning eyebrow at her grandkids. "Do you need more blankets?"
Chris turned away to hide his livid scowl from her and gladly left it to his sister to arrange an answer of any sort. As far as he was concerned, he wasn't sure he'd like to spend the night in there anymore. The couch appeared more and more appealing with every second that passed. He wouldn't need many blankets to sleep by the fireplace anyway.
"No, Granny, thank you." Claire said, shoving a sweater into the drawer and neatly sleeking it with her hands.
"Good girl, just arrived and already unpacking..." Mary smiled. "I ought better to follow your example sooner or later... before your grandpa yells at me he can't find his bed under all those souvenirs..." She snickered in self-derision.
Claire tittered quietly. "There's still the couch..." She said, parroting Chris's words and sounding meaner than she intended. Luckily, only her brother could get the reference.
"I hope this accommodation is to your liking, my dear. We're a little packed this year." Mary confessed. "But it's so rare to have the whole family gathered in one place since Matilda enlisted!"
"It's fine." Claire assured.
"I never doubted it!" Mary smiled. "You and Chris have shared so much, I'm sure it won't be a problem to share a bed, isn't it?"
Claire blinked in confusion. Her grandma spoke with such naturalness that it made it hard for her to see through her words. Shared so much. Claire dispelled any senseless thought away. She couldn't mean that.
Ugh, I need to rest.
"It won't be a problem. Right, Claire?" Chris said, hiding his mean malice behind a fake amused voice.
"Not at all."
"You just behave well and nobody will complain." Mary nodded and shrugged on her way out. She grabbed the handle and turned to her grandkids one last time before leaving. Her look severe and quizzical at the same time. An uncharacteristic expression of earnestness corrugated her wrinkled forehead and pursed her red lips. "Promise me you'll behave."
She didn't wait for any answer. The looks on her grandkids' faces were enough to her.
Part 3 – Backpack
"Is it me or has your luggage multiplied?" Robert wondered in sarcasm as he strained to lift the last bag from the asphalt ground. "Weren't they just two when you left?"
It was Tuesday 20th late afternoon when Mary's airplane had landed and brought her back onto the American land, after so many weeks spent touring the Old Continent like a gypsy. She'd insisted not to have a family-wide welcome by the gate since she'd rather make no big deal out of her return than to be overwhelmed by the faces of her loved ones. Especially if Thanksgiving was only two days away.
"A bag and a backpack, yes. I lost the backpack in Barcelona so I had to buy a new one." Mary tittered. "And I thought I might as well buy more bags since I was in the botiga."
"Oh, goodness! Did they steal you anything precious?!"
"You said stealing, not me, Robbie. Anyway, whoever found it, now has a life-long supply of old-lady panties." Mary cackled and assumed a sardonic expression right away. "Fortunately, I kept the cutest at home. They'd be of no use abroad without your father around."
Robert grimaced and snorted in protest.
"Oh, you won't be so bothered when you'll see what I got you in Mykonos." Mary taunted.
His face immediately shifting to utmost interest, Robert grinned. "Is it… edible?" His grinning mouth somehow already watered in expectation for who-knows-what.
Mary rolled her eyes and shook her perfectly combed head. "I wonder how come you're not overweight by now, son. Always thinking about food! Food and geeky formulas."
"Oh, that's all because of you!" Rob laughed aloud, thrusting the trunk shut. He approached his mother and tenderly kissed her cheek, like a child. "You made me curious and gourmand."
Mary tenderly smiled in appreciation for the compliment and drew her son into a loving embrace. The twelve-hours flight from Paris to Arklay City had been so tiring she barely stood the tears pricking in her eyes to her first-born son's hug. Oh, to travel was awesome, but she'd missed her family so bad! Nevertheless, Mary needed a moment of… transition from her former "touristic" reality to her new, old one. Moreover, her mother instinct reckoned she wasn't the only one needing a break from something.
A coffee by the airport bar seemed the perfect compromise, now that her bags were all secured in her son's car.
"Spill the tea, Robbie." Mary said at some point, once both had their fuming cups of coffee in the hands.
Robert addressed her a confused look. Mary's arching eyebrow remarked her question. He took another sip of coffee to gain some time, wonder how the hell could his mother be so insightful to know exactly when something was wrong with him and suppress his lame urge to reply he could spill no tea since he wasn't having any.
"It's nothing, Mum." He said, even though it certainly wasn't enough to convince her to put it off.
"Is everything fine with Lily?"
"Yes, yes of course…" Robert dismissed it, adding more sugar to that horrid drink they'd served him.
Mary hunched over her cup and arched a brow. "Do you make her happy and keep her satisfied, darling?"
Robert almost choked on his coffee. "Mum!" He coughed, blushing on the spot.
"What? Can't I worry about my son now?"
"Y-… yes, you can but I won't discuss…" Robert exclaimed and hushed his voice even more as he leant onward as well, gingerly looking around for any prying ear. "…my sex life with my mother!"
"I know, I know." Mary nodded eagerly, if a little petulantly. "I respect your modesty."
"Thanks."
"Thank your father for it." Mary playfully snapped. "That's not how I meant to raise you, Robert dear."
Robert couldn't be gladder his father John had counterbalanced his wife in the offspring upbringing. He'd represented a safe shelter from his mother's intrusive spontaneity at times, especially after they'd agreed he'd have taken on the boys' sexual education whereas their daughter's was left to Mary to take care of.
"That's how Dad meant though, and I'm totally fine this way."
Determined to get her son to spill at least his coffee, since he was obviously reticent to spill the tea, Mary taunted him on purpose. "How do you think we made you, Robert?" She eyerolled. "I got laid just like your wife."
Robert took his forehead in his hand and sighed in resignation. She'd said it for real. After all those years, he wasn't accustomed to his Mum yet. Although, at home, he was the irreverent joker, always prone to a suggestive remark, and would always make fun of his children for their embarrassment, he'd never be so explicit when they were around – despite him being his mother's son!
"I appreciate the graphic depiction, Mum. Now, if we can please move on…"
"Do you suspect she's cheating on you?" Mary insisted.
"W-what…!?" Robert scoffed, in shock. "Why do you think she'd- ugh! Why do you supp- wait a minute… why do you suppose she may be the one cheating?"
Mary looked at him condescendingly. "Oh, Rob, let's be honest. She's way out of your league."
"So what?" Robert protested, hardly curbing a smile and his flattered male pride. "I could cheat on her as well if I wanted!"
"Don't be silly. You've been lucky once, that's more than enough for you." Mary laughed, now openly bantering with her son. She loved to tease him as much as she knew too well his keen sense of humour. "If I were you, I wouldn't tempt fate."
Robert snickered. He couldn't agree more. He was so terribly lucky.
"So, what's the matter?" Mary asked, suddenly speaking serious as to warn her son the banter was over and now the time had come to behave like adults. For once in a while.
Robert exhaled a sigh. She wouldn't give up and… and he actually felt the need to confide with someone. With the mother he'd missed so bad.
"It's the kids." He tiredly sighed.
A shade crossed Mary's face. "What happened?" She gasped, alarm flickering her voice.
"Oh, it's nothing… it's just… uh, they're not on good terms lately and home… feels a little less like home when they're around." Robert murmured as he stirred his coffee. "Sometimes, I just need to walk away and… I despise myself for it."
Mary listened carefully. She reached on and sympathetically grabbed her son's hand. "It's ok to want to quit sometimes. Don't be too hard on yourself for it. It's physiological."
"I don't want to quit. Or to let them down. Nothing of this. I just…" Robert shook his head and trailed off. He was dying to tell her the whole story, the whole tragedy that had broken into his house since that damned 24th of September. He'd missed her advice so bad and not because she'd been away, rather because he couldn't breathe a word about it with anyone, family included.
"I know how you feel." Mary said in a crackling whisper. Her hold around Rob's fingers tightened.
The man stretched a sad smile and decided to put it all off. Better leave her oblivious. She'd had her share of worries and heartaches in life, he'd gladly spare her this one. Especially since it belonged to the past now. "It's alright, Mum."
Mary stared intensely at the grown-up man sitting across from her. Her grey eyes saw right through him, reading him from the inside out. Her son was holding something back from her. She made up her mind to see it through. "Why are my babies not on good terms? It's so unlikely to imagine my Chris and Claire like that…" She wondered.
Robert hesitated a second too long not to convince his mother it was about something big.
Now truly alarmed and unforgivingly bossy, Mary straightened up on her seat. "Alright, now you tell me. Everything."
Robert sighed in surrender. After all, if three random teenagers could know the truth about his children why couldn't his own mother? "Don't tell Dad. You know, his…" and he repeatedly poked at the centre of his chest casting a pointed look at his mother.
"Oh dear, you know how to build suspense! What is it?!" Mary exhaled, growing worried since apparently it was something big enough to endanger her husband's coronaries.
Part 4 – Bourbon
"Ahhh… refreshing!" John suspired, looking in pride at the tangerine liquid in his glass and slumping even more into the armchair.
Just returned from the backyard cabin to catch up with the progress about the motorcycle repair, Chris, Robert and Grandpa John idly sat by the crackling fireplace, each sipping at a glass of bourbon. A feeling of warm cosiness permeated the wide room on the cottage's ground floor. The sun was setting behind the mountain line – its light's always brighter a few minutes before it vanishes. The last golden rays of the day shone through the three tall and narrow windows beside the stairs and obliquely caressed the furniture, the houseplants, the wood panels of the walls and the burnt-umber bricks of the fireplace.
To John, it looked like the perfect time to pop that bourbon bottle he'd so jealously preserved since he'd purchased it months prior. After all those weeks he'd spent alone minding only the housekeeping and a few hobbies in the lonesome quietude of the mountainside, he only yearned for a little quality time with his first-born son and grandkid before dinner.
Although the bourbon was a little too dry and harsh even for his taste, Chris appreciated that moment more than one can imagine. Just the three of them talking about motors and liquors. No women around. No Claire. No one reminding him of his heartaches.
A woody-scented breath of normality.
On that two-seater couch he shared with his Dad, with that glass in his hands, hearty laughs on his tongue, Chris was no twisted, aberrant version of himself. He wasn't a lover-brother as long as Claire wasn't there. He was just a son and grandson. Coherently. Linearly. According to the natural order of things.
Chris gladly poured himself a little more of that distilled normality. Maybe he'd needed that moment with his father and grandpa more than John himself did.
"John!" Mary gruffly uttered, emerging from the kitchen door, in that soldierly tone that solely would get her all of her husband's attention. "How long has the oven been like that?"
John quite jumped on his seat. The oven's knob! Yes! He'd completely forgotten to fix it! As long as Mary had been away, he'd simply settled for turning the broken knob with a plier, procrastinating such superfluous fixing until neglect became downright forgetfulness. "On my way, honey."
"Stay. You just tell me where the knob is and I'll fix it myself."
"It's not as easy as you think..."
"Why?"
"Long story short, there's no knob anymore."
As John, winking in amusement at his guests, rose from the armchair with the typical sigh of old-age bounce, Mary shook her head at her husband's hardcore level of adaptation and survival skills. She was even surprised to have met him in a still-standing house. Hadn't it been for his army training and the meticulous habits it'd left in him, John would live in a dump and no complaints.
"How did you even cook your meals?!" Mary laughed as they disappeared into the kitchen.
Chris and Robert only heard him babble something about K-ration back in his army days before both burst into a hearty titter at John's oblivious expenses.
"If World War III ever happens, Grandpa would be the leader of survivors." Chris joked.
"Sure thing." Robert nodded and took a sip. "One does not easily survive your grandma all these years."
"A man does not easily survive weeks on his own without getting septicaemia either. Or burning the house down!" Chris laughed.
Robert raised his glass and quietly toasted to that.
The snug stillness engulfed the room again. The fading daylight, the flames reverberation, it tinged Robert's blue eyes with a subtle watery shade of gold. In his preoccupied gaze, he was as beautiful as ever.
He absently watched the fire for a few moments before turning towards Chris, who still had an amused smile impressed on his face, quite regretting he was probably going to erase it. The man splayed an arm upon the backrest top and crossed his legs in a very elegant and composed manner. Slant like that, he could easily be mistaken by a British lord.
"How's it going with Claire?" he asked, determined to take advantage of that moment alone with his son to be a present parent.
Chris's smile struggled not to fade completely on the spot. Why did that moment have to end so soon?
"It's just… stupid things." Chris shrugged in response, shaking his glass to make the ice cubes swirl. He hoped his Dad wouldn't go on with that conversation. All in all, it was going so bad with Claire, he actually had no clue what to even invent.
"So, has it downshifted from bullshit to stupid things now?" Robert joked. "That's a progress."
Chris forced a little laugh. Progress. He couldn't see any from his point of view, honestly. But better make Rob believe so, if it granted him his father not to snoop too much. "You know girls."
Robert loudly snorted. "Ha! You said it!"
Chris took a long sip from his glass wishing his Dad would just put it all off.
"Can you tell me what's happened?" Robert asked, crashing every ingenuous wish. "Me and your mother are worried."
"It's… nothing. I'll just wait for her to cool down." Chris swallowed both the bourbon and the guilt of allegedly blaming their quarrel all on his sister when, instead, he shared the biggest part of responsibility.
"Cool down from what?" Robert inquired.
Chris shrugged. He pretended he didn't know since he couldn't tell otherwise without risking his life.
The older man took a glance behind himself, towards the kitchen door, to make sure nobody was around. He leaned a little onward and barely susurrated "has it got anything to do with the switch?"
It had everything and nothing to do with it.
But why was he bringing it up now? They hadn't talked about it since... since it'd been reversed! In hindsight, they hadn't talked about it much even before that.
"Listen, son, I…" Robert said, sighing and rolling the base of his glass against his temple. Where was he even supposed to start? "Have you done something she dislikes when you were her?" He suggested.
"What do you mean?"
"Well, October's been one hell of a month for you…"
"You can't know." Chris agreed.
"It wasn't a piece of cake for your mother and me either. And least of all for Claire! Poor angel of mine…" Robert continued. "If you two fought over shit happened back then, let's talk it out. There's nothing we can't settle together."
Chris thumbed away the thin layer of condensation on his glass. Oh, how much he needed to talk with his Dad – he'd really use some advice – but what a pity Rob was the last person on Earth he could ever talk his trouble with! Hey, Dad, I'm in love with your daughter and I tried to kiss her into me again! He probably wouldn't live past "your daughter".
"We had our differences… That's it." Chris had to settle for, answering.
Robert raised an eyebrow. Clearly, his son wasn't collaborating. Ugh, adolescence! Whatever Chris wasn't feeling like sharing, Robert needed to make his first-born change his mind and let him into his life. "Son, I don't mean to belittle anything, but don't fuck with me. I'm your father after all. Of course, I haven't been around as much as I should've during that month… when you needed me…" Robert said, saddening a little. "But that doesn't mean I don't know my kids."
"You sure do."
"My kids sure know they can confide everything to me. Do they?"
Chris ducked his head and nodded. They do, but they can't.
Robert hooked a knuckle between his teeth and tilted his head aside, in a pensive manner, to silently observe his son's profile. "I wonder if there might be something else."
Chris looked askance at his father.
Robert looked again at the kitchen direction and lowered his voice to a murmur. "I just wonder if you did things she wouldn't want you to have done…"
"I didn't smoke! Not a single time." Chris hastened to reply. "And I drank only at Carlos's. But she drank too then so… looks like we're even, to me."
"I'm glad to hear that." Robert nodded. "And I'm sad to know your nicotine addicti- vice is stronger than a month without it. But I'm referring to something more… important than a hangover."
Chris's frown grew darker as he listened, just like the whole room did as the very last sunray faded away. The air immediately turned silvery and wintery – except for the radiant fire flames. Where was his Dad going with his speech? "Just speak up." He sighed, swallowing the alarm rising within him.
"Look, I've been a boy too and I'm uh… acquainted to youth hormones and what they do to a boy and the needs they bring along. The point is… you weren't a boy in the hardest time of your life and I'm just presuming you might've… desired the… the vent you've been deprived of and… found it… in someone else."
Chris couldn't quite believe his ears.
His heart was maddening inside the ribcage, rushing the adrenaline through his veins. Every muscle, every tendon in his body was as tense as a violin string as he listened. He couldn't mean that! "What the… what the fuck are you talking about?" Chris gingerly asked.
Robert shifted on the seat, uncomfortable. He liked that conversation even less than his son, but he couldn't turn tail now. Parenthood is not always moonlight and roses. "I wonder if you… took something from her… that maybe she would… or should… ahem… lose on her own?"
Chris finally dared to look at his father. He pierced him with a look full of shock. "Are you suggesting I gave away her virginity while I pretended I was her?"
"In short, yes." Robert admitted and apologetically clenched his lips away from Chris's incredulous frown.
Despite the conversation drifting towards dangerous topics, Chris couldn't restrain a half-hearted laugh in front of his father's uneasiness. He even emphasized it since it could show him unconcerned and innocent. He was undeniably relieved to know his father only suspected he'd... well, got laid by some dude.
"You couldn't be more wrong!" Chris snorted in scorn as a feeling of vindictiveness rose in him, initially siding his relief to overrun it right after. Grudge took a hold of him and wouldn't let him go until he'd poured his poison all out. Funny how willingly he both drank the poison from the glass and spat more of it from the heart. His father was right, one may need a vent every now and then. And how much anger he had to let out!
"Oh yeah?" Robert squeaked, hopeful, raising his brows.
First things first, Chris and his rancour thought. "If I'm ever willing to be fucked by a dude, I'll ask Piers so I won't need to fucking squeeze myself into a shitty bra." Chris said, taking a sip of the bitter nectar to help swallow his own bitterness. More poison in, even more out. "Anyway, even if I wanted to have sex with boys, I doubt Claire would've got any virginity to lose anymore."
Robert almost choked on his drink. I should totally stop drinking while people talk. For a long moment, the man looked at his son with the face of distraught concern of the father who realises his little girl is no little anymore. "You sure?" He barely whispered.
"A whole month with Rebecca and her mouth gave me enough evidence." Chris sputtered, obviously hiding the real source of such knowledge. He couldn't say he'd also carefully and deeply checked on his own. "She gave it away long ago to some asshat in a summer camp. She was fucking fourteen! So yeah, she hasn't been the angel you think for a while now."
Robert glanced at the point where the staircase disappeared into the first-floor's gloom. His little girl was somewhere upstairs. They grow so fast. The sound of spilled liquid shook him from the melancholy that assaulted him. Chris was filling up his glass again. Not out of good manners as it may have looked like, rather out of an unmentionable, slight regret that replaced the mean ugliness he'd just spat out.
Robert knew it was gonna happen someday, and with such a beautiful daughter he couldn't really be that surprised it happened too fast. Nevertheless, he decided to make a little bit of a joke of the shocking news. "I'm not sure, should I be relieved or worried?"
The big boy next seat flashed a bratty smirk at his direction as he sat the bottle back onto the little table on his right. "I guess you'd like Piers as a son-in-law. Though he'd prefer you as his sugar daddy."
"I didn't mean tha- oh, screw you!" Robert cackled aloud, grateful his son had had the considerateness not to rub it in.
Chris was pretty satisfied and proud of himself about how he'd managed a potentially explosive conversation like that. Wasn't he willing to leave enough of that bourbon for his uncle and aunts to taste, he'd have poured himself another glass to celebrate his quick wit.
"So, it's not about that. No cherry swindle." Robert mumbled, careless – or most likely, unaware – he spoke such words aloud. He savoured the liquor on his tongue as he mulled it over for a bit, then he looked at his son. "Don't tell your sister I eavesdropped, but I heard hideous things about a certain shower you took with her friends…"
Chris deeply sighed, halfway between in relief and depression. All his pride deflated along with his lungs.
"Listen, I'm not here to judge anything of what you've done to deal with the hell I pushed you into." Robert bitterly spoke. "In my eyes, you behaved bravely. But if you caused Claire to be embarrassed with her friends because you couldn't keep your hands to yourself – one way or another – you should talk it out. I'm here to help you."
Thankfully, Chris was downing the last sip when Robert spoke, so he didn't catch his eyes widening as he listened. Normally he'd despise the idea that his father knew something so bad and shameful about him but not this time, since it looked to him he'd just been handed the perfect excuse on a silver platter. Why hadn't he thought about it himself?
"Thanks, Dad." Chris sighed aloud. "I regret it so bad! Please don't think too bad of me…"
"So is it all about it?" Robert wondered, in the belief he'd finally gotten to the point. "You groped a girl? Claire's friend when you were her?"
Chris nodded in shame, maybe not totally faked shame but certainly not completely genuine either – not to such a degree!
"Well, son, I hope you apologise properly to her and your sister, because-"
"I learned the lesson." Chris intervened. "I already apologised to Jill and… I hope Claire will… forgive me soon." He sighed, hiding his real regret into that truthful wish.
Claire's forgiveness. For being a manipulative idiot who tried to seduce her back into sin.
Chris stood up from the couch and realized he'd probably had too much bourbon since the floor span a little under his eyes.
"I'm off to bed." Chris said, resting the glass next to the bottle. "I'm feeling quite dizzy. I better rest a little before dinner."
Robert nodded and let him go. Chris had hardly set foot on the first step, when Robert stood up and spoke again. "So, is it only because you touched Jill? Or did you touch Claire too?"
Chris turned to his father, his heart stopping on the spot. The terror in his eyes so keen it was mistaken as disgust.
Jesus... Christ.
Robert exhaled a little scoff. No, no, what was he thinking? Chris would never do such things. The bourbon had got him tipsy too, apparently.
"Don't mind it. It wasn't me speaking." Robert amiably smiled and laughed his own stupidity off. He shook his glass and laughed. "This is some exceptional shit!"
Part 5 - Spoon
The air in the airport's bar seemed to have suddenly rarefied, insomuch that Mary's brain believed there wasn't enough oxygen for itself to work properly. At first, the old woman struggled to believe what her son recounted but she had to reconsider her perplexities in front of the seriousness corrugating Rob's features. It was unbelievably true. And uncanny. And… alarming. Fucking nuclear science! Her youth pals were right! It's devil's work!
Mary leaned back on her seat, overwhelmed. She could hardly imagine the horrible hell her grandkids had had to go through. It all was incredible.
"And now I see them barely speak to each other and…" Robert concluded, trailing off.
"Do you think they're at daggers drawn now because of it?" Mary wondered. "The switch, as you call it?"
The man shook his head. "Not sure. Not directly, perhaps. All in all, they're teens. And tetchy by nature." He murmured. "Stress's been accumulating and you know how the Redfields are… we snap for nothing."
Mary nodded. "Thank your father for that too."
"If only I hadn't asked them to show up!" Robert complained.
"It's not your fault." The mother soothed, squeezing her son's hand gently. "How could you know?"
Unwilling to discuss his specific duty was actually to know, Robert shrugged. "Still, I feel responsible." He leaned on and in turn rested a hand onto his mother's bony one, his blue eyes solemnly staring into hers. His voice reduced to a mere whisper. "I need you to keep it secret. I am not allowed to speak about it to anyone and so are you."
The old woman waved a dismissing hand and looked away to let all that new, confidential information sink in.
Chris and Claire switching lives, then switching back, fighting and not making peace afterwards. Chris was forced to pretend he wasn't himself but someone of the opposite gender, Claire likewise. Chris sulking first, then Claire in turn. Their relationship had undeniably deteriorated. Not to mention Claire's dreadful panic attacks! Was it that to get their lives and bodies back had been even harder than switching in the first place?
As Mary metabolized the appalling news, she absently fiddled with the metal spoon. Its curved surface summarized perfectly the situation she'd been represented. Everything seems fine on the convex side – if a little exaggerated – but it only takes a little twist to get a change of perspective. Everything mirrored in the concave side is upside-down and deformed. Twisted.
Based on what Robert had told her, she hadn't enough elements to reconstruct the correct image of whatever bloody shit was going on in her beloved grandchildren's lives.
"If you ask me, I reckon there are plenty of reasons why the kids are not on good terms." Mary reasoned. "Maybe the switch's only been the... primary cause."
"Yeah, most likely. But I can't deny everything has been falling down since then. And I'm the one who made it happen."
"And I made you! And my mother made me and so damn on!" Mary exhaled, eyerolling. "You can regress up to the dawn of time and still you won't find anyone to blame."
Inside, she was more worried than what she'd let out. Her son had made a great deal to accentuate his share of guilt but he'd quite totally neglected to consider what Mary reckoned was the main issue to mind. Was it that her son as well had looked at the problem from the wrong side and he'd got tricked by the illusory deformation since the very beginning of the story? As far as Mary was concerned, she wouldn't be surprised to realise her son had forgotten to consider what, conversely in her mind, had been the first worry to rage. Robert was still John's son after all, so no wonder.
"How did you manage their hygiene?" Mary quizzically and casually asked.
Taken aback, Robert blinked in confusion. "What do you mean?"
"You said they exchanged bodies."
His dumbfounded face didn't allude to any truth unravelling within him, it only waited for a better explanation of whatever his mother meant. "Yeah…?"
"I'm saying that someone must've taken care to guide them through their new… shape." Mary said, cryptically.
"I'm afraid I don't understand."
"No wonder, Einstein." Mary eyerolled, she adjusted her chair a little closer to her son and spoke low. She needed to be more straightforward, although not enough to upset him. "What I mean is, they must've had to deal with each other's nudity at some point. Have you considered they may not have been comfortable with it?"
"Oh, Chris and Claire have been so brave throughout!" Robert smiled.
"I don't doubt it." Mary clarified. "But please don't tell me you and Lily have left them alone to come acquainted with a whole different body…"
Robert widened his eyes and jolted against the backrest in offense. "I'm sure Lily did her absolute best." He said protestingly. "She's suffered a lot. But she did anything necessary to look after our children."
"Of course, she did. Poor girl. She's a mother!" Mary sympathetically agreed. "But has she talked with them?"
"Yeah... I think so... I wasn't there." Robert muttered.
During the hard month the body-switch had lasted, he had been so busy to find a solution to reverse it that he'd completely missed the tragedy consuming into his house. Once it was over, he'd been so relieved he'd pushed all those bad memories into a box and shoved it aside, in the most recondite corner of his brain. And now his mother was forcefully summoning it all up!
"Are you telling me, Robert dear, that your children have just gone through the worst trauma of their short lives and you haven't made sure to check them? Hasn't William's fucking addiction taught you nothing about parenthood?" Mary pricked in reproach.
"I still don't get what the point is..." Robert mumbled. "What has Will's troubles got to do with my k-… Do you suspect my children take drugs?!"
"Not in the slightest! It's about something else..." An opinionated look appeared under Mary's quirking brows.
Robert silently invited her to go on.
"I don't know, it's just a suspicion... an impression, dear." Mary said, shaking her head in a minimizing manner. "Don't take it as gospel truth..."
"I'm all ears."
Mary inhaled deeply and tilted down her face, getting an overall look of secrecy and prudence. "What if Chris has done something while they were switched that Claire... how can I say... disapproves?" Mary insinuated.
Robert mulled the hypothesis over for a few seconds. It didn't sound stupid at all! Especially not if you think about that shower rumour he'd overheard days ago. But he'd rather avoid telling his mother about that. One can never know when she'll just blather it out and Chris didn't come off well from it. "Well, he's grown quite affectionate to her friends, maybe Claire doesn't like he meddles into-"
"Oh, try to walk in Claire's shoes for a moment!" Mary fervently incited. "What if it happened to you and Matilda?"
"I'll pretend I didn't hear that." Robert snorted, planting an elbow on the table, and taking a long sip out of his mug.
"Do you think she'd have taken it easy to know you had free disposal of her body?"
Robert abruptly lowered the cup onto the tabletop and glared at his mom. "What are you insinuating about Chris?"
"I'm talking about eros." Mary cut short. "Masturbation, Robert. Self-eroticism. Onanism. Is it enough synonyms for you?"
Robert scoffed in incredulity, each term slapping his fatherly modesty. "Pffft! That's completely out of question, Mum." He exclaimed, quite offended by such idiocy.
Mary resumed a more mother-suiting expression. "You know a boy's needs, Robert. I'm just supposing Claire wouldn't accept it so easily." She explained, calmly. "And you can guess how hard it must've been for them to pretend all day long. If I know my grandkids, and I think I know them well," the old lady addressed her interlocutor a pointed look that left space to no objections to that, "I'm sure they'd have even made you and Lily think they were alright not to worry you. Who knows how many times they have fought that you don't know? A whole month of fights and no wonder their relationship has gone to shit!"
Robert clenched his jaw, taking the unscrupulous remark in his stride. Yes, there was so much he'd missed. Like he was totally missing to see the truth now that it'd been fanned right before his eyes – although both saw Claire only as a potential victim in that story. He was just so blind to it, and blind he'd stay.
"So you suggest they fought because Chris has done something wrong with Claire's body?"
"Oh, dear!" Mary exclaimed, releasing a little chuckle. "Wouldn't you if you ever were a girl for one day?"
"Me? No. And I can bet my life Chris wouldn't either." Robert assumingly affirmed.
"I'm not accusing him of anything ungodly but the need of relief." Mary replied, a conceited expression accentuating the wrinkles on her forehead and sleeking the ones in her cheeks. A sarky pout underlined all her malice. "For the record, do I have to remind you how horny you were at his same age, Mr Mansard?"
Robert snorted, uncomfortable and flushed. He hated when they called him that way. It'd been so long ago! Why couldn't they just forget a teenager's… ministrations and leave him be? "It's not the same thing." He pointed out.
"After all these years you still blush to it." Mary tilted her head aside and tittered, grinning evilly and leaned back on her seat relishing in her victory.
She decided to cut him some slack, since there was no need to wig out now. It was too early for every conjecture, she'd rather wait to see with her own eyes how screwed her grandkids were.
And whose was the blame.
And why.
Part 6 – Lock
The stairs weren't the only spinning things, since now even the narrow corridor seemed slightly unsteady in Chris's eyes. He'd definitely drunk too much. Well, too much to be sober, too less to be drunk. A few minutes lying down on the bed would certainly do him good.
Just as he raised his eyes from the ground, Chris saw Claire's frame just a few steps ahead of him, apparently walking in his same direction. Both headed to their bedroom.
As Claire heard his steps behind her, she speeded up a little, but couldn't stop Chris to notice she was sobbing. Her brother rushed forward and grabbed her by the arm. "Hey…" He whispered in concern.
Claire turned and forcefully freed herself from his grasp. Her eyes were two pools of tears and her cheeks two waterfalls. "Fuck you!" She snarled in a broken voice and turned again to enter the bedroom.
Chris followed right behind and asked her what was suddenly wrong. Rather, more wrong than usual. Claire addressed him a look full of loathing. Chris feared that had she got a knife right then she'd have sliced his throat open for sure.
"Did you have to tell him?" She sobbed in a very low tone. Her cry-broken voice made her words hardly discernible.
Guilt replaced concern on Chris's features. She'd overheard his talk with their father, somehow.
Before he could muster any excuse, any other beg for forgiveness, Claire slammed a punch into his chest, and another one followed, and then another one and so on until she'd pushed him back outside the room. She was mad at him, disappointed, hurt up to a point she downright hated him.
Hatred and blame imbued each of her punches. Desperation imbued her relentless cry. She grabbed the door and spat back onto him all the gratuitous poison he'd spat out about her just a few moments before downstairs. "I'm not telling you any of my secrets ever again!" She sobbed, uncontrollably, and shut the door at his face.
Claire's legs sagged as she collapsed to the ground, crying for the meaning of her own words, and praying she could find a way to lock him out of her life as easily. She'd made up her mind. Chris needed to be left outside her life. Whatever still induce her to hesitate doing so had been blown away.
Meanwhile, her brother just stood there, in the lonesome corridor, speechless, uncertain about what hurt him the most: whether her punches or her tears.
Or both.
Alright, this was long and, you know what? It ain't even over! Next chapter will be its direct continuation. See you soon (evil laugh).
P.S. since there is no real schedule on my updates (but the general one-per-month rule) I suggest you turn the notifications on, not to miss any chapter. [unless you're reading this from the future and the story is already complete eheh]