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3
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"Everyone is okay," my mum said. She stood with her arms folded to ward off the cold, and stamped her white boots to shake off the snow. She wore a white down coat, a white hat, and white mittens to match her boots. Even in my annoyance and shock, I admired how stylish my mother was.
I glared at my father, annoyed that they worried me and disturbed my evening. "Then why are you here? You made yourself pretty clear the last time we spoke. And as I recall, so did I."
My mother's lip trembled and she looked to my father. A long awkward moment passed between us while he looked like he was trying to figure out what to say.
Enough of this. This decision had already been made.
"All right then," I said. "I don't want to be rude, but we're letting all the heat out of the house."
I started to close the front door. I had to gently push Jellybean back with my foot to do it. He always thought everyone who came was there to see him. To be fair, he wasn't usually wrong.
"Son, is there any way we could come in," my father said before I could shut them out. "I would really like to talk to you."
"We would really like to talk to you," my mother added, pleading in her eyes. She rubbed her mittens together. I knew her. This was a nervous gesture more than a heat generating one.
Jack put his arm around me, and I felt my body shake, despite my best attempts to stop it. My autonomic nervous system was reacting to the stress of their appearance. So many years of emotions and anger and regret and conditional love had passed. These were still my parents. But that is precisely why all of that still hurt so much. Because they were my parents and hurt me anyway.
"That depends," Jack said from behind me, his deep voice soothing my nerves. He squeezed me with his arm. "Are you here to cause your son more emotional grief? Because I'm afraid I can't allow that."
Even mired in my defensive reaction, I noticed my father blanch at Jack's words.
"That is the last thing we want," my mother said.
Jack gave them a wary look and gave them a curt nod.
He kept his arm around me and guided me back from the door, giving my parents space to come in. When they crossed my threshold, I felt like some kind of milestone passed. I just didn't know if it was a good or bad one. So much for my peaceful Christmas.
My mom looked around, admiring our house. "This is lovely," she said. "Just beautiful."
My father looked around too but I think had the sense to not say anything about it. He needed to explain his presence, not engage in small talk.
"Thank you," I said, my voice flat, like a child being forced to say the magic words to an unwanted guest. Which, let's face it, is exactly what they were.
Jack sat down by me on the couch, and my parents sat in the arm chairs facing us. Jellybean followed us into the room, and stood next to my mother, wagging his tail. My dad removed his hat when he came through the door and now held it in his hands. My mom twisted hers, wrapping her hands in the plush cabled knitting as she fidgeted. She looked down at Jellybean and back up at me, and then reached down and stroked his silky fur. He laid down by her side and looked up at all of us like he was supposed to be the centre of attention. I didn't know if our dog was an ambassador or a traitor.
"I came to extend an olive branch," my father said.
I blinked, trying to understand what he was saying. I mean, I knew what that meant, but I couldn't compute how that translated to our current situation or what he intended to do. I stared at him and waited for him to say more.
My father studied my face, and then continued. "I was wrong. So wrong. I know a lot of water has passed under the bridge, and I don't know how I can, but I want to make this right."
I pressed my lips together and inhaled deeply. I looked at my mother, who wiped a tear from her eye. A million emotions filled me and I sat up straight.
"Wrong about what?" I said, frowning at my father. I needed to hear him say it — all of it.
He blinked at me and rotated his hat in his hands as he spoke. "I suppose it wouldn't do to just say, I was wrong about everything. But I was. I'm sorry about everything. I'm sorry I interfered in your personal life. I'm sorry I held the business over your head."
I sat still. Everything inside me felt like I was made of stone. They both looked at me like they expected me to say something, but I had nothing. I didn't know what I wanted, but whatever this was — it was not enough.
"I realize it is going to take more than one apology to fix this," my father said. He sat back, and sighed. In that moment I realized how old he looked. I hadn't seen my parents in months and they both looked so much older.
My mom reached over and took his hand, and I noticed how wrinkled both of their hands were. These were my parents' hands? They were such towering figures in my life. As a child, your parents are tall, strong, invincible, and they held all the power.
Now looking at my parents I realized something that hit me like a revelation. They were getting old. Something in my heart softened, but only a little bit. Even old people can make someone's life horrible. It's not like once you hit seventy you magically turn into a good person.
I looked at my mother. She never directly did anything against me, but she didn't help me either. She didn't stick up for me, that I knew of. There was no evidence that she ever had. She looked really distressed though. I felt Jack's solid warmth beside me and thought about how I would back Jack up no matter what.
But Jack wouldn't do something like my dad did. I would never have to worry about standing by my man when he was wrong. Not like this.
Still, I wanted to hear what my mother had to say.
"Mum?" I said, my eyes telling her everything. She met my gaze and I could tell she felt my reproach. "Why didn't you ever help me?"
"I should have stood up for you more," she said, her voice cracking. "I didn't know. It was a different time, and I didn't know any better. But you are my son and I should have known anyway." She burst into tears and buried her face in her hands. "I'm so sorry, Ianto. I failed you."
As if sensing the mood in the room, Jellybean backed away from my mother, who'd stopped petting him, and laid down on the floor beside me.
My eyes flicked to my father, and he looked like he was going to be sick. I'd never seen him apologize like this in my life. But could I believe it? A dark thought occurred to me.
"You're not dying or something are you?" I said to my dad, my voice pointed. The possibility made me feel a jumble of anger, grief, and frustration all at once.
Despite himself, my father laughed, just a brief grim chuckle. He shook his head. "No. I'm glad I at least had the sense to try to do this before something like that happened." He looked up at me and said, "But in a way I am, because I'm not getting any younger and a life without being in my son's life is not a life I want."
Another disturbing thought occurred to me.
"Wait a minute. Is this because you are trying to retire?" I narrowed my eyes at my father, taking the measure of his reaction.
He shook his head, his mouth turned down in a sad line. "No, son. I know I held inheriting the business over your head, assuming you would do what I wanted, but this isn't about that."
"So you don't want to retire?" I raised an eyebrow, and leaned back into Jack's support. "I mean we both know that isn't true."
My father sighed. "No, I do want to retire. But this isn't about the vet clinic." He looked at me, his eyes meeting mine back and forth as he gauged my response. "The truth is, you can have the clinic if you want."
I opened my mouth to retort, but before I could say anything he continued. He held up his hand as he spoke. "You can have the clinic if you want, same kind of deal we had talked about before — or not if you don't want. This isn't about that. I only keep working these days to stay out of your mother's hair."
My mum smiled a little in the corner of her mouth, though she tried really hard to control it. Even I had to allow myself some amusement at his admission. My dad drove my mother crazy when he was home all day every day.
"Okay. I don't even know how to reply to that. I have a good job, at another clinic," I said, confusion clouding my words. I'd become a vet, just like my dad, and he'd dangled taking over his practice over my head for years. Then he threatened to take it away if I didn't break things off with Jack. I picked Jack. It became a running joke between me and my friends: Did you know that when you get a degree it's good in more than one place? I got a job in another clinic in the next town, and though I miss Sarah, my friend and one of the vet techs, it's been great to have my personal life out of my professional life.
"We are going off track here," my mother said. "Forget about the clinic. We don't care about anything except having a relationship with you. And with our grandchildren."
Ah yes. The grandchildren. I ground my jaw while I thought. I guess Lisa really isn't letting them see the girls. I made a mental note to get her an extra awesome Christmas present.
"Is this actually just about the grandchildren?" I said. Sadness and pain flooded into my heart. Did my parents actually want to atone for the past or were they just trying to get past me to the girls?
My mother shook her head and wiped a tear away. She looked to the side and swallowed hard. Then she faced me, her eyes shining with tears. "This is about you, Ianto. You are my baby boy. You are our son. We want to mend this with you."
I spent so many years hardening my heart against my parents' invasions of my identity I found it hard to thaw out based on one conversation. I stared at them both for a long moment, and then managed to grind out, "It's nice to hear that you are sorry. But as you can see, I've built a nice life without your interference or support." I tried not to sneer the last word, but it was hard. "I'm sure you can imagine that it's hard for me to believe you or to allow the idea of letting you back in to hurt me more."
My mum looked up at me, stricken. Her mouth hung slightly open and I knew this was killing her. But all those years before were killing me. This was self preservation.
Jack squeezed his arm around me, offering support. My parents noticed his hug, and looked at us, back and forth, taking in the full measure of us, I suppose. Maybe they were wondering if they would ever see us again, or maybe they were realizing how much of a unit we were. It didn't matter what they thought.
I had no desire to explain my relationship with Jack to my parents. I had no desire to explain anything to my parents. But I did need to tell them something, so they would at least get out of my house and this awkward conversation could end.
So maybe they were wondering what I was going to say next. I didn't know either.
But it was my dad who spoke next. "I thought this might be your reaction. And I don't blame you." He glanced at my mother. "We don't blame you. But…"
"But," my mother interjected. "Please don't decide right now. Please think about it. Talk it over with Jack."
She paused and indicated him, smiling at him in a way only a mother grateful to someone for taking care of her child could. "Sleep on it."
"You are my son," my father said. "I know you, like me, feel that talk is cheap. I don't want to just tell you I'm sorry. I want to show you I'm sorry. I want to fix this."
My mind raced, thinking about the years of pain and the repercussions of the direction he forced me on the lives of so many people. "How on earth are you going to do that?" I said, my voice blunt and thick. "Fix this? How? Do you have a time machine?"
Jack squeezed my shoulder. "I think that's probably enough for tonight," he said. He stood up, pulling me up with him.
My parents both stood, bewildered by Jack's declaration, but obeying his command of the room. Jack walked toward the door and opened it. "Thank you for coming by. We will discuss this, and get back to you."
My parents gaped at me, marvelled at Jack, and filed out the front door. "Good night, and please watch your step," Jack said politely.
Relief filled me as Jack rescued me from my parents and this painful conversation. Jack closed the door and turned to me just as my knees buckled. He held out his arms and I ran into them.