CHAPTER'S SONG - "In the Bleak Midwinter" by: Jars of Clay
(not the lyrics so much as the whole vibe of the song)
Christmastime at the Call's. It isn't that special- considering we don't really have family besides the two of us. Every year it's just me and good ole Ma baking cookies in the kitchen. The whole ordeal has kind of become a tradition. Outside, it snows; the gentle sounds of the wind whipping against the house making the windows creek adding to the sounds of the television playing Christmas carols on whatever public access channel it is that plays the yule log.
Not gonna lie, I always thought yule logs were overrated and pretty cheesy- the only thing good about them is seeing the person change the log and sometimes have to continually stoke it because they screw it up. There's nothing better than catching those rare moments when the log keeps falling out of the fireplace; a disembodied hand entertaining us both while they struggle to keep the yule log alive.
Of course, this only happens once in a blue moon, and it isn't like we watch it regularly enough to catch those rare occasions. When we do though, they provide us with an evening filled with laughter for the poor soul stuck with the flames as a holiday guest.
When we aren't hoping to catch a rare fiery failure, Ma and I spend our time in the kitchen baking cookies, or rather, attempting to bake cookies.
Let me rephrase that: Ma bakes the cookies; I make a mess.
Despite her many years of forcing me in there to do what she calls 'mother-son-bonding,' I usually end up making a mess. Although I always try my best, every year I continue to prove to her that I'm cooking impaired. It doesn't matter much to Ma though.
I think she's just happy to spend the extra time with me.
Especially these past few years.
Things hadn't been so easy since I'd started the whole phasing-into-a-giant-wolf-dealio and hiding it from her. My secrecy meant, to her that is, that I was up to no good. The way she saw it, I was running off, doing drugs, robbing stores, and God knows what else she imagined in her spare time. IThere were more days that I was grounded than when I wasn't, but now that I was approaching thirty, she'd eased up a bit.
Granted, I was still living under her roof so technically I was under permanent grounding, but my main point is that it wasn't really enforced anymore. The only punishment I received on a regular basis was monotonous lectures followed by the occasional stink eye whenever I left the house.
Oh! And my door was never allowed to be shut. That was a pretty fun perk of the whole 'Embry is in the crazy rebellion stage of his life' thing.
But I figured her thinking I was being rebellious was a heck of a lot better than the alternative of finding out that I transformed into a giant WOLF in my spare time.
My telling her the truth of the huge animal part of my life would mean that Ma would finally have to come clean about the whole who's-my-daddy portion of my life which was her biggest secret. And if she did that, then we'd have to have this enormous, incredibly awkward conversation I've been trying to avoid...
The whole thing just isn't worth it. I'd rather her think I'm on drugs and ground me eternally than have to deal with all that family drama.
I guess I just don't want to make her feel unnecessarily uncomfortable. If she spilled the beans about whoever this guy was, I knew she'd feel obligated to divulge all our familial junk I'm well-aware she doesn't want to relive in the first place, so why bring it up?
When it comes to our 'family,' whoever they might be, they clearly have no interest in our lives. Here I was, nearly three decades into life, and as far as I knew they had never once reached out to us or sent so much as a Christmas card in the mail.
Ma is all I need in my life- she's all the family I've ever had and ever really want to be honest. I can choose the rest of my family. That's good enough for me.
I looked over at the recipe book that was sitting propped open on the kitchen counter and squinted down at the tiny printed words on the page. Carefully, I began to read it aloud so Ma could hear from where she was gathering ingredients just a few feet away from me.
"3 cups all purpose flour. ¾ teaspoon baking powder. ¼ teaspoon salt. 1 cup unsalted butter. 1 cup sugar- Jesus Ma, is this the same recipe as last year?" I asked while turning around to look at her.
She merely laughed while balancing a bowl full of miscellaneous supplies along with an armful of cookie cutters and frostings of various colors. While walking towards me, she muttered, "Just keep reading, Embry. I think I have most of what we need right here."
"Yeah, yeah," I replied halfheartedly before turning around to return to the recipe book and continue reading from the recipe. "1 egg beaten. 1 tablespoon milk. Powdered sugar, for rolling out dough. You got all that?"
"I think so?" Her voice wasn't very confident, but I didn't bother to look. Instead, I moved on to summarize the first instruction from the book.
"So, we have to sift together the flour, baking powder, and the salt- wait –salt... salt in cookies? Did I say salt in the ingredients?" I wondered aloud while reaching a finger out to skim the ingredients list again.
Ma chuckled from behind me and grabbed the container of salt and the teaspoon measuring thingy she had collected earlier. With a toothy grin, she waved the spoon in front of my face. "Yes, Embry. You said salt." Shaking her head, she quickly moved to put either hand on her hip, still holding the materials she'd grabbed. "Honestly, how is it we make cookies every year for over 2 decades and you still can't remember the ingredients it takes to make a batch of sugar cookies?"
I stood up from hunching over the counter to look at the recipe book and crossed my arms tightly over my chest. "Maybe because I'm not a baker and I have a bad memory, okay?" I said with sarcasm and a slight smirk tugging at my lips. "Can we get back to the cookies now?"
In the background, I heard the song change on the yule log to one of our favorites- Carol of the Bells –The crazy hardcore David Foster version. I smiled to myself remembering the memories I had of being young and sitting in my car seat of my Ma's old, shitty van. She used to have the song on this old cassette tape that she'd used to tape it off of the radio just for me. I liked it so much that during each and every Christmas season we played it at full blast and jammed out from the safety of that van.
It was so simple back then. No secrets. Nothing to worry about. Just me and her, against the world.
How times had changed.
I shook my head and refocused my attention to the task at hand; allowing the memory to fade back into the recesses of my mind where it was expertly filed away for another time and another place.
Preferably one where Ma wasn't literally right beside me trying to get me to talk to her and pretend like nothing is wrong and that we aren't hiding things from each other. Expecting me to act like the bulk of our lives are completely normal.
Yeah. Like THAT'LL ever happen.
After sifting all the... stuff... I read the next instruction in the book quickly to myself under my breath. "Add milk and egg and beat to combine in the mixer, blah blah blah..." I poured everything into the mixer and turned it on before my Ma could even think to stop me.
"Wait, Embry!" She attempted, but it was too late.
Flour went everywhere as apparently; you have to start slow so everything can mix together or something so the flour doesn't just go and attack you. You'd think I would have learned.
Standing in the kitchen, the two of us covered in flour and tiny bits of egg as the mixer continued to spin, our mouths stayed ajar in shock at what had just happened. I sighed and closed my mouth while nodding my head slowly.
"So..." I started, "that was... unfortunate."
Ma turned to look at me and for a split second, I thought she would begin yelling. It wasn't an absurd thought as this past week alone we'd had nearly eight different arguments that resulted in a screaming match between the two of us.
To my surprise, however, Ma just looked at my face covered in flour and allowed a smile to overtake her face. It wasn't long before that smile released a full-blown laugh attack.
"Your... your face!" She managed through a chortle she tried to suppress.
Joining in her laughter, I pointed at her own mug, "MY face? YOUR face!"
The music in the background changed once more from the loud boisterous song of my childhood to the quiet sounds of my mother's- one that softened her laughter and flooded her with memories of her own.
"Oh..." she cooed once she recognized the familiar melody of 'In the Bleak Midwinter' by a favorite band of mine- Jars of Clay, "This takes me back..." a melancholy smile slowly painted over her expression, and she was lost to whatever she was remembering.
This memory, whatever it was, was one she apparently wasn't planning to share, which was fine with me. At that moment, a loud knock resounded through the house, distracting us both from the music playing through the television speakers.
Glancing in Ma's direction, both of us clearly confused as to who the hell would want to come and visit us , she merely shrugged. Taking that as my cue to answer the door, I reached up and wiped some of the flour from my face and made my way out of the kitchen to address the unexpected knock.
It didn't take me long to make the short distance to the door and pull it open with ease; a gust of wind attacking me from the frozen tundra awaiting outside. Had I not been maintaining a 108.9 temperature, the wind forcing its way into our warm home might have knocked me over.
As if what was about to happen next wouldn't do the trick.
In front of me stood a man who appeared to be in his late twenties. He was tall, maybe my height, and his skin was dark russet like mine. His features were similar to my own and his hair was just as dark as mine, though longer and unkempt. I could only assume his appearance was due to prolonged exposure of the late-December night.
The man's eyes though... there was something about the way he looked at me. His gaze bore through me with a hurt expression I could only equate to that of a lost puppy. He mimicked those abused dogs on the Sarah McLachlan commercials that Ma always had to change because they looked "just too sad."
I stood there for a moment staring at the mysterious man in front of me. Carefully, I looked him up and down as if inspecting him would help me figure out who he was. After a solid minute of awkward silence, I decided to muster up a polite tone and start the conversation myself. "Can I... Can I help you?"
The man swallowed hard and looked down at his feet as if struggling to find the right words to say. "I uh... I..." He started, and I took a deep breath trying to remain patient with this random dude standing on our front porch. I figured he must be homeless or something. Felt bad for him.
"Embry?" Ma suddenly called from the kitchen and the dude's head shot up instantly at the sound of her voice. Coming out of the kitchen, she used a hand towel to wipe leftover flour from her face. "Who's at the-" she said but stopped abruptly the moment she locked eyes with the man standing in front of me.
"Hello, Tiffany" the man said shyly, and I looked between the two of them in complete confusion. After a beat, my eyes finally settled on Ma and I pointed over my shoulder to the man who was, might I repeat, still standing on our front porch.
"Ma... you know this guy?" I was bewildered. She'd never mentioned people from before I was born and now one of the randos from her past had shown up at our door - clearly looking for her .
I thought I deserved an explanation.
But she wasn't about to give me one. Instead, she shook her head in disbelief and stuttered out some response directed at the guy as if I hadn't said a word to her. "I-I... It's impossible. You... You don't look a day older from when we first met. And that was...?"
"A long time ago," the man finished for her. "I know."
"Ma," I was growing impatient. And angry. "Who is this."
She continued to ignore me and instead started walking towards the man. "Why are you here? I mean... why are you here, now ? After all these years?" I was disgusted by the way she was looking him. It was like she was hypnotized; a moth to the flame.
But I couldn't stop watching because I had to know who this guy was and what the hell he was doing here.
"I know it seems sudden, and I can explain," the man tried, "but-"
I was quick to cut him off, my hand reaching out to keep the two of them apart. Closing my eyes tightly, I tried to keep my brain focused on whatever the hell was happening at our front door so close to Christmas.
"Ma!" I exclaimed. "Before anyone explains anything to anyone, you had better explain to me , your son, who the hell this guy is real quick or I'm... I'm..." I could feel my body shaking as if I were going to lose control at any second. My brain stumbled around to discern how I could feel so shaken about some guy I didn't even know.
Afterall, what even was this guy to me? Why was he affecting me like this?
"Embry, honey," Ma started calmly, almost too calmly which was when I knew exactly who it was who had disturbed us on tonight of all nights. "This is Joshua Uley. He's... well... he's your father."