Chapter 23: Daytime Drinking
"Doesn't it feel weird?" Naomi queried. Her half-opened eyes gazed at the drifting clouds as she grasped Finley's hand. She and Finley were sprawled out on their backs on the grass. Having convinced Owen and Amelia to let them stay behind while the family attended Oliver's soccer game, the couple soaked in the sun beside the lakeshore sharing a six pack of Owen's beer.
Finley chortled, "Weird? Baby, I feel incredible." He sat up halfway, leaned over to his girlfriend and kissed her.
As she giggled and returned the kiss, she clarified, "Ok, not weird. I dunno… kind of like we're on a ride at the fair or on a boat."
Laughing, he admitted, "Yeah, a little." He grabbed their fourth bottle of beer and held it up, "Do you want more?"
"Sure," she agreed as she sat up and felt lightheaded. She balanced herself by putting her hands on the ground. "Woah…give me a second."
"What?" Finley curiously wondered as he leaned toward her and handed her the beer. She grabbed the drink and finished the last third of it. Then, falling into a fit of giggles, Naomi lowered herself to the ground. Her laughter was lighthearted and contagious, causing Finley to join in the mirth. The couple laughed until their sides hurt.
"Wh… Wh… Why are… we … even laughing?" Finley inquired.
With tears in her eyes, Naomi giggled, "I don't know." She scooted closer to Finley so she could rest her head against the side of his arm.
Finley glanced over at Naomi and rested his head against hers. He sighed and mused, "I could stay like this all summer." Their eyes met and the boisterous laughter resumed.
"Hey, guys, what's so funny?" Owen questioned from afar as he approached.
Under his breath, Finley mumbled, "Oh crap. Set the towels on top of the bottles."
Following Finley's recommendation, Naomi spread the towel out as if she were changing angles to catch better sun rays. She murmured through her smile, "You do the talking."
Finley offered one quick nod before faking a smile and greeting Owen, "Hey, Dad. I thought you guys were going to be gone until 4." Naomi, in an attempt to appear casual, stretched back out on the grass and closed her eyes.
Turning his chin toward his shoulder and pinching the bridge of his nose, Owen studied his son briefly before checking his watch. "It's 3:45pm., Fin."
"Wow, time flies!" Finley overacted.
Nodding his head slowly, Owen lowered his eyebrows and squinted. "Everything ok, you two?"
Grinning, Finley shrugged and lied, "Great. We're just kicking back." He sprawled out, put his hands under his neck and surveyed the clouds. Tilting his head, Finley invited, "Come join us, Dad."
"I'm good, Finley. Thanks," Owen responded thoughtfully. Internally, Owen's gut was screeching; something was amiss. "I'm… I'm heading back up to the house. Mom and Bronwyn sent me down here to tell you to come on up in a bit… they're baking cookies."
Naomi smiled and quipped, "Will do. Sounds great." Owen stared at them with his mouth slightly open, then grinned and headed back to the house.
"Holy shit, that was way too close," Finley whispered once Owen was out of earshot. "Let's figure out how to get the bottles up to the house without anyone knowing." Naomi blew out a puff of air and began giggling. "Baby, it's not funny," Finley warned.
"I know," she admitted as the giggling continued. "I'm laughing because you told your dad to come join us. What were you thinking?!"
"Fuck if I know," Finley chuckled. Naomi laughed hysterically in response.
Meanwhile, Owen returned to the kitchen with a perplexed countenance. He dipped a spoon into the bowl and ate a scoop of dough. Amelia spotted Owen's expression and commented, "That's your 'something's up' face. What's up?"
"Come over here," Owen encouraged as he walked to the large windows.
"Keep stirrin', Bronwyn. We're almost ready to put the dough on the cookie sheets," Amelia encouraged as she met Owen at the window.
"What do you see?" Owen inquired as he put his arm around Amelia's waist and pointed toward Finley and Naomi.
Amelia looked directly in Owen's eyes with one eyebrow higher than the other and opined, "Umm… Finley and Naomi."
"Do they seem… I don't know… normal?" Owen questioned.
"Owen," Amelia emphasized his name, "what's your concern?"
"Something was… off," Owen conveyed with concern. He cleared his throat and shrugged, "I'm probably imagining it. Never mind. Let's get those cookies going."
Amelia suggested, "Do you want me to go check it out?" As he approached Bronwyn, Owen nodded. She waddled to the kids with her eight-month-old baby bump. They were so focused upon one another that they didn't hear her approach.
"Ok, seriously, baby…c'mon… be serious," Finley was urging while smiling widely at the same time.
Naomi giggled and took a deep breath, "I promise. Serious. Yes." She held her lips together tightly, trying to contain her laughter.
"What about the bottles?" Finley wondered.
Amelia had a hunch they'd been drinking. Their voices were sing songy and Finley seemed as if he was trying to focus but could not do so. "What bottles?" Amelia asked in her best Mom voice.
Panic struck in the kids' faces. Their eyes widened and they both inhaled sharply. Neither met her eye directly and Finley promptly folded his arms, "Hey, Mom. How was Oliver's soccer game?"
"Fine," Amelia stated plainly. "You guys need help with some bottles?"
"Huh? No," Finley responded feigning a perplexed expression.
Amelia stared at both kids. "Look. At. Me. Both of you, look at me," she insisted firmly. Both kids peered up at her from the tops of their eyes as they lowered their chins. "What's going on?"
Continuing to attempt to convince his mom that everything was normal, Finley shrugged and explained with a slight slurring of words, "Mom. Really. We're… uh… everything's fine. Are the cookies almost done? Is that why you came down here?"
"Naomi Grace," Amelia uttered sharply, "what's going on? Fess up." Naomi's gaze wandered around the area as she grinned uncomfortably and shrugged lightly. Folding her arms, Amelia drew in a breath, "Here's the deal, guys. I am certain you're both hiding something. We can go back and forth all day, but I'm only going to become angrier with each exchange."
Finley smirked and poured on his best charm, "Mom, really…"
Holding her hands in front of her body, Amelia piped up, "Bottles? I'm guessing the bottles don't belong to the twins… maybe bottles belonging to your dad, Finley James?"
Naomi pursed her lips and looked down at the grass. She mumbled, "Just tell her, Fin."
"No big deal, Mom. We just had a couple beers while everyone was at the game," Finley shrugged with a smile meant to downplay the situation.
"There we go…" Amelia commented flatly. She narrowed her eyes and shook her head slowly. Eventually, after a lengthy pause, Amelia ordered, "Naomi, why don't you head up to the guest room? Fin – grab the bottles, put them in the recycling, take the towels to the washer and head to your bedroom. Dad or I will be up later."
As Naomi stood unsteadily, she sputtered, "Dr. Shepherd-Hunt, I'm very sorry. What we did was…"
Amelia interrupted with her hand in the air, "Naomi Grace, I love you like one of my own, but I can't talk to you right now. Go upstairs please." Naomi, shuffling her feet, walked toward the house.
Finley bent down to gather the bottles in a towel. Tottering, Finley attempted to stand back up. He looked up at his mom whose lips were pursed tightly. With a tightened jaw and lowered brows, she bore her eyes into Finley. He'd never seen her so intense. Her body seemed like a lid on a pot about to over boil – the fury she was holding inside was evident.
"Mom…" Finley began with hesitation. He grinned in an attempt to soften her mood.
"How many bottles, Finley? How many do you have there?" Amelia asked curtly.
Finley gulped and reported, "Six. Well, we didn't open one, so five empties and one unopened."
"Hmm…" Amelia hummed.
"Mom?" Finley began to plead.
"Go…go to the house, now," Amelia growled.
"I'm going," Finley assured her softly.
Owen, Oliver and Bronwyn were laughing in the kitchen as they continued the cookie baking adventure. Naomi came in and caught Owen's eye. He looked at her with raised eyebrows, wondering what had transpired. Meekly, Naomi simply whispered, "Excuse me, Dr. Hunt," and proceeded up the stairs.
"What's up with Naomi?" Oliver wondered aloud. "She looks kinda scared and kinda sad all at once."
"Mommy's been outside with them. Maybe Naomi gotted in trouble," Bronwyn weighed in.
"Let's not worry about Finley and Naomi right now, guys. Let's get these cookies in the oven," Owen suggested.
Amelia came in next. Immediately noting the tension on her face, Owen stepped away from Oliver and Bronwyn and approached his wife. He guessed, "Something was up, wasn't it?"
"I need to sit down," Amelia shared with a grimace as she headed to the couch.
"Ollie, can you bring your mom some water, please?" Owen requested. Owen followed Amelia to the couch and put his arm around her shoulders.
Oliver brought a large glass of water to Amelia and studied her, "Are you ok, Mommy?"
With a smirk, Amelia twisted her arm around Oliver and drew him toward her for a hug, "I'm fine, buddy. Thanks for the water."
"You look super mad and frustrated," Oliver observed.
Amelia looked up at Oliver and suggested, "Ollie, I am mad, but I need to talk to Dad about it right now. Can you go help Bronwyn?" Oliver nodded, smirked and ran toward the kitchen. Much to Oliver and Bronwyn's dismay, Amelia and Owen mumbled softly and could not be overheard. She was giving Owen a summary of the situation when the door between the garage and inside hallway opened.
Finley stepped inside and Bronwyn spotted him immediately. She whispered, "Finley, are you in trouble?"
With a sideways smile, Finley nodded dramatically and whispered back, "Yeah. Big trouble."
"What'd you do?" Oliver wondered.
Finley shook his head and pointed upstairs, "I gotta go."
"Finley James!" Amelia called out with an edge in her voice.
"Yeah?" Finley responded as he froze in his steps.
"Let him go upstairs, Mia," Owen advised softly so only he and Amelia could hear. "I'll talk to him later."
"I want him to tell you what he was doing," Amelia insisted in a low volume.
Owen breathed deeply and commanded benevolently, "C'mon over here for a second."
Embarrassed that his siblings were watching with deep curiosity, Finley approached his parents. Owen patted the cushion next to him and Finley sat down. Quietly, Owen asked, "Give me the bullet, Finley. One sentence."
"Naomi and I had a few beers while you were gone," Finley admitted as he looked directly at Owen.
Nodding his head slowly, Owen sighed, "Not a great choice, huh?"
"No," Finley answered as he hung his head low.
"Go to your room. We'll be up later," Owen ordered.
"Dad, I'm really sorry and Nai is too," Finley added.
"I know," Owen responded as he stared directly at his son.
Clarisse, Naomi's mom, was originally planning to pick her daughter up after dinner. When Owen called and shared the news, Clarisse offered to come over immediately. However, as she and Owen discussed the situation, Owen put forth an idea. He proposed that both kids and all three parents could gather together for a conversation. The consequences both would face would be similar, and meeting as a group would show the kids that their parents were a united front. Amelia joined the conversation on another line and the three sketched out a basic outline. They decided Clarisse would come over for dinner and that the group would chat after that. Until then, Clarisse had no problem with Naomi stewing in the guest room.
After the phone call, Owen went upstairs. He knocked on the guest room door and waited for Naomi to respond. With a serious expression that conveyed disappointment more than anger, Owen entered the room and walked over to the window where Naomi was standing. He stood next to her and joined her in watching the water as he shared, "I like to stare out there when I have something on my mind."
"It's pretty," Naomi weakly replied.
Owen put his hand on Naomi's shoulder, "I came up to let you know that your mom is coming over for dinner in about an hour. After we eat, the five of us will sit down and talk about this afternoon."
"Thanks for letting me know," the scared teen responded softly as she continued taking in the view.
His heart sunk even though he was disappointed. Empathetically, Owen patted Naomi's shoulder before suggesting, "Why don't you sit tight in here. I'll send someone to come get you when dinner's ready."
Naomi nodded and, with trembling lips, regarded Owen, "Thanks for being so nice about all this."
With sagging shoulders, Owen inquired, "Do you need a hug?"
Leaning immediately into Owen's chest, Naomi wrapped her arms around him and began crying. He stroked the back of her head and shhh'd her. "I'm not going to lie, Naomi. You and Finley screwed up and are going to face some serious consequences, but all three of us love you two. You know that, right?"
Naomi sniffled and wiped away her tears. She pulled away as she nodded, "Yeah. Thanks." She wrapped her arms tightly in front of herself and turned back toward the water. Owen pursed his lips and patted Naomi's shoulder before stepping out.
Heading down the hall to talk to Finley, Owen sighed as he considered that parenthood was not always joyous and wonderful. He knocked on Finley's door, "Hey…"
"Come in, Dad," Finley said without emotion. When Owen walked in, Finley was lying on his bed and repeatedly bouncing a Nerf ball against the ceiling.
"Clarisse is coming over for dinner and all of us will talk after we eat," Owen disclosed as he popped his hands into his pockets.
Not looking at Owen, Finley responded flatly, "Ok. Did someone tell Nai so she's not just sitting in there?"
"I just spoke with her. I'll send one of the kids up to get you when dinner's ready," Owen sighed.
Finley continued to avoid eye contact and muttered, "Can't wait."
Dinner was a mixture of awkward and uncomfortable as the older kids ate silently and the parents attempted small talk. Bronwyn and Oliver held up the table conversation for the whole while the twins offered comic relief and flirted with Clarisse. After the meal came to a close, the parents and older kids sat at a round table on the patio. Oliver and Bronwyn played with the twins in the playroom, really wishing they could know what was being discussed outside.
Clarisse began the conversation, "Let's cut to the chase, guys. You two stayed behind when everyone went to the soccer game. Dr. Hunt and Dr. Shepherd-Hunt trusted that you could be left alone, and you betrayed that trust by drinking nearly a six pack of beer. To say we're disappointed is an understatement."
Glancing at Amelia and then at Clarisse, Owen leaned his lower arms on the table, "The three of us have talked about where to go from here. You're both going to have the same consequences. We want to be clear from the beginning that we have a zero-tolerance policy on drinking. All electronics need to be turned over – phones, iPods, gaming consoles, everything – and you're grounded for three weeks. Unless you're helping out with extra chores, attending practice, eating or using the bathroom, you'll hang out in your bedroom."
Naomi's eyes widened in shock. She seldom broke rules or upset her mom, so such extreme consequences felt like being sent to prison. The only other time she'd been grounded was when she argued about cleaning the kitchen and refused to do it. For that, she had to come right home after school for two days. Finley sighed heavily and looked up at the sky as he grasped Naomi's hand under the table. More than anything, he was pissed at his unreasonable and overly reactive parents.
Amelia moved her chair between the kids and sat down. She began calmly, "I'm sure you're both pretty done at this point. Maybe you're furious or sad or both, but I need you to listen to my story. Can you turn your chairs so we're making our own circle of three?"
The kids scooted their chairs without a word. Amelia reached out to hold each of their hands as she resumed, "There are parts of my past that I'm not proud of and I want to share some of that story with you. When I was about your age, I started drinking. It started out pretty low key – a couple beers, a couple glasses of wine, maybe a little bit of vodka in a big glass of orange juice. It made me feel happy and relaxed – I was just having a drink or two, no big deal." With a reluctant and regretful chuckle, Amelia added, "Pretty soon, I was pouring a third of a handle down my throat or drinking shot after shot of whatever I could get my hands on." Amelia paused to let that much sink in.
She looked directly at Finley and Naomi until they each met her gaze, then she continued, "Pretty soon, alcohol wasn't enough. Drinking until I passed out or blacked out wasn't enough. But, that was no big deal, right? Just a little pot or just one of my mom's pain pills. Nothing big, nothing to worry about. It wasn't like I was using around the clock or taking huge amounts of pills…yet. And I did a pretty efficient job of hiding it."
"By the time I was 18, I had stolen prescription pads and forged my mom's signature so I could get pills. I was damn lucky I didn't die and that I was never arrested. I was high all the time and I was a complete mess. I was destroying myself and Uncle Derek and Grams…they saved my life by being hard asses, by insisting I go to treatment, by being willing to be the bad guys. I'm an addict and they made me face it."
"Now it's my turn to be the hard ass. I'm going to do everything I can to keep both of you from even taking step two on the same path. I'll harass you and I'll watch you like a hawk. I'll do whatever it takes to keep you from drinking and taking drugs. I'll come down hard with tough consequences because I love you both. You are amazing, intelligent, talented people who don't need to follow my crappy path."
"We're not just angry because you're kids and we're parents. Each in our own way, we've seen what can happen when drinking gets out of hand. You're both 13. You've got eight years until drinking is legal. Until then, like Dad said, all three of us have a zero-tolerance policy. Do either of you have any questions or want to say anything?" Amelia concluded.
"I apologize," Naomi sputtered. "We knew better. I'm sorry."
"Me too," Finley echoed. "We just wanted to try it. We figured we were safe trying it here at home."
All three parents stared blankly in response. Clarisse broke the tension, "Naomi, let's head home. Do you have a purse or a bag or anything you need to grab?"
Barely audible, Naomi answered, "Yeah."
"Go get it," her mother urged calmly. "Owen, Amelia, thanks so much for dinner and for having Naomi over today. I'm sure we'll be in touch." Clarisse hugged Amelia, whispering in her ear, "I'll call you later." Owen patted Clarisse's back and offered a quick hug.
"Finley?" Clarisse put forth. "I love you, hon." Not interested in hugging her or interacting with any parent, Finley at least glanced upward and smirked.
"Finley," Owen stated firmly. He looked at him with expectant eyebrows and a flat stare.
Standing up, Finley lamely hugged Clarisse, "Sorry."
Naomi came down with her purse and a bag. She hesitated at the bottom of the stairs, then walked over to the group. "Bye," she offered meekly as she hugged Amelia and Owen. She turned to Finley and hugged him tightly, whispering, "We'll figure out a way to talk, k?"
He nodded subtly, "Take care, Nai."
Once Naomi and Clarisse walked through the front door, Finley turned and headed toward the stairs.
"Finley?" Amelia beckoned insistently. He turned and looked at her expectantly. "Get the kitchen cleaned up before heading upstairs." Ready to scream and rant, Finley took a deep breath and walked over to the kitchen with his jaw firmly set.
Owen whispered in Amelia's ear, "I know you probably want to throttle him, but why don't you give him some space? You two need to go to separate corners."
"Yeah, I'll go check on the littles," Amelia agreed.
Without a word, Owen joined Finley in the kitchen and helped him clean it. Having such a thoughtful and calm Dad made it really difficult for Finley to hate him.