A Stereotype for Hannukah

On the 6th of December, Flint duly found himself waiting at La Guardia for the arrival of the flight that was bringing his mother from Kansas. He was doing his best to remain positive, reminding himself that it was only nine whole days that she was going to be in town… He realised that it was probably the longest time that he had spent in his mother's company since he was a schoolboy, and whilst he had changed a lot since then, his mother had, if anything, only managed to get worse. Yes, she did not interfere in his life as much these days, but that was probably only because she was across country, 1300 miles away. Had she been local, it might well be different, and he admitted that when he saw who was calling, sometimes he didn't pick up.

He chastised himself for that as he waited. He had to accept all of her foibles and faults; after all, she was not immortal, and in spite of everything, she was his mother. Whether he would still feel that way at the end of Hanukkah this year was up to debate at the moment. As the door into the arrivals area opened and the passengers from the flight she had been on began to wander in, Flint took a breath, then to his surprise felt a draught…

The voice in his ear was familiar at once, as it whispered, "As tempting as matricide seems, it is completely against all of the rules. Also, as hell is our worst nightmare, your version would probably see you living with her, on your own, listening to her talk about Berneice Rubens all day, every day… "

"Don't even go there! That's the kind of thing that makes you want to die a good death right away! How can you, as a senior angel, be so evil Wesley!" Flint hissed.

"It's not evil if it is being said to keep you out of the danger zone, Flint…" replied Wes, then in a tone filled with a little amusement he said, "Okay, so I think I see her. There is a large fur hat, similar to those in Dr Zhivago, coming in right now, and as your mother's taste in millinery is something of a legend, I am betting it is her…"

As Wes vanished, Flint looked up, and indeed it was her, dressed for a polar expedition, complete with her multi-coloured harlequin pattern leather carry on bag, and what appeared to be a large Hy-Vee supermarket bag full of decorations. He took another breath, and as he stepped forward, mentally steeled himself for the onslaught…

By the time the cab from the airport pulled up outside the apartment block in the Upper East Side that Flint called home, his head was aching. His mother had been asking question after question ever since she had bear hugged him the moment she saw him at the airport. She had not stopped even as he had attempted to heave her two heavy and overfilled cases off the luggage carousel, and there had been a moment when he had considered jumping on the carousel with the cases and allowing himself to be spirited away into the dark recesses of the airport.

In the taxi of course it had been worse; having exhausted every possible enquiry about her daughter-in-law and grandson, she had moved her attention on to his job, and then to the city that he lived in. Then she had begun to make the kind of remarks that any native of a city detests a visitor making about their hometown, particularly if they are employed as a cab driver. Flint could see the driver's face in the rear view mirror as his mother went on and on, and although he didn't appear too angry, neither was he all that impressed as they drove over the East River from Queens into Manhattan. Pulling up, Flint jumped out to open the door for his mother; as she made her way across the sidewalk to the apartment building, he retrieved her cases, trying not to put his back out in the process, and then paid the driver, giving him a handsome tip.

"How long is she staying?" the taxi driver asked in a gruff tone.

"Until the 16th," said Flint quietly, conscious of the pain in his tone.

"Then I wish you all the luck and patience that you will require," came his reply.

He headed inside, dragging his mother's bags behind him, and entered the building to hear his mother complaining loudly about the fact that the doorman had not come out to collect her bags, in earshot of the man in question.

"That is because that is not his job, mom. This is an apartment building, not the Plaza Hotel."

"I am fully aware of that, but surely!" his mom replied, before walking off to the elevator, leaving him to heft the two bags alone.

"Now I know why you looked as if you were heading off to your own execution earlier," said the doorman, who had only been there six months and had never met Mrs Wilson. Flint could merely nod as he hurried after her. He just made it into the elevator before the doors closed. The doorman shook his head, then called upstairs to Flint's apartment to warn them; after all, he liked the family…

Thus it was that as Flint struggled out of the elevator with his mother's cases, it was to see his wife waiting in the hallway for her mother-in-law. "Isadora! It is so delightful to see my favourite daughter-in-law waiting for me. I guess that lazy doorman managed to do part of his job properly and announce my arrival. Now, I hope that you haven't gone to any great trouble just because I'm visiting…"

"How could I not do that when my favourite mother-in-law is here!" responded Izzy, using the same logic as Mrs Wilson - after all, she was her only daughter-in-law… "I have the tea kettle boiling and I have a little something prepared in case you are feeling hungry after your flights."

"That would be lovely, my dear, once I have freshened up," said Mrs Wilson, as Flint heaved the first bag through the front door. "Do be careful of those, dear… Now, am I in my usual room?"

Izzy nodded, and let her mother-in-law head off in the right direction alone, as her husband hefted the second bag into the hallway and shut the front door. She headed over and kissed him, sensing he needed it. "So far she had managed to offend a taxi driver, probably made an enemy of the newest doorman, and almost given me a hernia! I mean, what on earth has she packed? I hope that it isn't all of her Hanukkah decorations from home, or several gross of candles…"

"Maybe it's spare hats," quipped Izzy, and Flint had to chuckle at that idea.

"Well given the weight, she has brought all the matching shoes too…" he replied.

After they had taken the bags between them to her room, they headed into the drawing room, where Mrs Wilson joined them. As they ate, Izzy found herself being bombarded with questions, just as her husband had been in the taxi. They had just finished up when Mirabelle knocked on the door and came in carrying Aaron, just awake from his afternoon nap. All of Mrs Wilson's attention was immediately focused on her grandson; indeed, as Mirabelle would write that night in a letter home, it was as if her son and daughter-in-law became surplus to requirements the moment that he was brought into the room…

Flint was also forced to admit that for all of her flaws, his mother made an excellent grandmother. Every moment that she spent with his son, she devoted herself entirely to his needs. All of her usual standards of behaviour vanished as she played with him on the floor; her hair was out of place, and she did not complain if his hands left marks on her perfectly laundered clothes. Of course, she had regarded Mirabelle with her usual critical eye, and for a moment both parents feared that they would be desperately seeking a new au pair within the hour. Fortunately, Flint's advice to just agree with everything that his mother said on every subject was heeded, and the clash of wills never came. Instead, the young woman and the grandmother found themselves agreeing instantly on some areas of child development and care, and in particular on the need for practical play with old fashioned toys and games.

"You see so many parents these days that merely hand a child his age a tablet computer and expect them to learn from it, to play games upon it. That is absolute nonsense; physical toys are vital for the development of good motor skills and to be able to function properly within the real world as they grow," Mrs Wilson had commented stridently, expecting Mirabelle to react.

She looked a little nonplussed for a moment when she had replied "Oh, but I agree wholeheartedly. Yes, he will need to be savvy with modern technology - even more so than my generation - but he will only really develop fully if he has experience of playing with real toys, ideally of a gender neutral variety."

Those last three words had seen Flint look at Izzy in horror, expecting a conflict. They glanced at Mrs Wilson, who was nodding with a look on her face that her son couldn't quite interpret. "I take it by your last words that you mean no toys which stereotype a sex to a particular role? If so, then I agree. In my day it was nurse toys for girls, doctor toys for boys - and as Isadora illustrates beautifully, that sort of attitude is definitely outdated."

"My point exactly. We have kitchen toys, and we have builder toys. However Aaron grows up, whatever he decides to be, the important thing is that he grows up to be happy, well rounded, and well behaved. Now, we didn't have our usual art session this afternoon as he had an early nap in anticipation of your visit; would you like to join us for one now?"

When his mother agreed, Flint was shocked, particularly as the art in question was finger painting, and he could not recall ever doing something like that in his childhood; in fact, even coloured pencils were not encouraged. For that reason he felt compelled to take a photograph of his mother, a smock over her clothes, sitting in the nursery with her grandson, her well manicured hands covered in washable paint. His father would not believe it had happened without actual physical proof after all…

Once her grandson had been put into his bed, and Mirabelle had headed to her room, Mrs Wilson went back to her usual self. She had sat down and announced that one of the biggest regrets in her life was that she had only been blessed with one child; that it was so very important for a child to have a sibling, and that she would love another grandchild to spoil, ideally a little girl. As she went on, Flint waited for the moment when his wife exploded, but it never came, Izzy sitting there serenely and allowing her to talk. If Mrs Wilson was surprised by the lack of response from her daughter-in-law, she did not show it, and when Izzy's only words after her speech were to ask if she would like a cup of coffee, she replied in the affirmative.

Flint watched his wife leave to make the drinks, his mind only briefly thinking that she would be slipping strychnine in his mother's cup. Once she was out of earshot, he turned to his mother, and said sternly, "Mother, can I make this clear right now. If and when Izzy and I find ourselves blessed with another child, then we will welcome it with open arms. However, if that doesn't occur, then that is equally okay in our eyes. We have a perfect son, successful careers and our health. We do not need any more than that."

Mrs Wilson smiled at him, then said, "Flint, my darling, a mother can spot this sort of thing a mile away. Trust me when I tell you this here and now; Aaron will not be an only child…"

Before Flint could reply, Izzy returned, and he shelved the subject for now. He did however look closely at his wife, and at the coffee cups, which left Izzy bemused. There was no more talk of children, his mother now more than happy to discuss their plans for Hanukkah instead, and then she announced that she would be retiring to bed, tired from her trip. After she had left the room, Flint turned to his wife and apologised on his mother's behalf. "All that talk of children was completely out of line, and I told her so. Then she started going on about how she could tell these things, and wait for it, informed me that she was certain Aaron would not be an only child! I mean, that is really out of line..."

Izzy sighed, shaking her head, and then said quietly, "I think that your mother might be an actual witch…"

"I don't think she is quite that bad…" Flint exclaimed, but then he stopped in his tracks. There was something in the way that his wife was looking at him in that moment; it was the look that she often gave him when she thought that he was being, as she put it, 'endearingly daft'.

"I wasn't going to say anything until I had done another test myself, then had a proper one done at work too. I thought that it would make a good Christmas gift for you… of course, your mother will never forgive me for using the C word…" said Izzy softly.

"Wait, you mean… I… We are going to have another child?" whispered Flint.

"It is very early days yet, but all the signs are there to indicate that yes, you are going to be a daddy again. Do you know, I used to think that I would hate the idea of my career being broken by a child, let alone two children, but now I am actually looking forward to being a mother again. I think by the way that our timing here is perfect; we are in an excellent financial position, we are both still young enough to be able to deal with the disturbed nights, and as an added bonus, I think that when we tell Mirabelle she will have a second child to look after, she will demand to stay…"

Flint was still in a state of shock. He was going to have another child, and well, it was a surprise, but this time he didn't feel like panicking. Instead he felt his heart swell, and the love he felt for the woman before him grow to new heights… "So, it turns out that my mom was right, she could spot it?" he said to his wife quietly, resisting the growing urge to whoop with joy and scream about the news from the rooftops.

"Yes, she was, but if you ever tell her I said that…" began Izzy.

"Oh trust me, I have no intention of telling her that, not yet. If we tell her now, then she would probably volunteer to stay here until the birth, and I am not wanting my new child to come into the world whilst their dad is either doing time for murder, or resident on Wards Island because he's been driven insane…"

Izzy would not be able to find time to take a proper test at the hospital the following day, although she had managed to do another home test on that Friday night, albeit this time with her husband watching anxiously over her shoulder for the positive to appear. When it did, he almost let out a shout of pure delight, but remembered at the last moment that his mom was in the next room. He found however that the good news made her presence in his home a little more bearable. He had been only too happy to head to the synagogue the following day, and the candles were lit as intended at home. They ate well, and spent the time together as a family. His mother had offered to cook Friday night dinner, and he had accepted as he knew she had no intention of making her infamous matzo balls…

On Monday he and Izzy both headed off to work, fully confident that Mirabelle could handle being alone in the house with his mother; it helped that he had presented the latter with a gallery pass, for which she had thanked him, and made plans to head out and see The Met and The Guggenheim, both within easy walking distance of their home. He had a busy day at work, on top of which his father-in-law had appeared, just to see if he was surviving having a visitor. When he asked how Izzy was, it was all Flint could do to stop himself telling him that he was going to have another grandchild there and then, but he managed to control his excitement; there would be time enough to tell everyone once they were sure all was going well…

Flint spent most of his day waiting for a phone call from his wife, as she had promised to get an official test done that day. She had still not been in touch however by the time he was heading out of the office and in the direction of home. He was beginning to worry that the two home tests had both shown a false positive, but if that was indeed the case, then he would deal with it, he had no other choice. He called home to let Mirabelle know he was on his way, and she informed him that the preparations were well under way for the evening meal, and that all should be on time for their guest's arrival. Flint wondered for a moment who she meant, and then he realised that in all the excitement about possibly being a father again, he had forgotten that Beats was coming for dinner. Fortunately, according to the au pair, his mother had not; in fact she had actually said that she was looking forward to seeing him again. Those words made Flint worry; not so much because his mother might be waiting to pounce on his best friend, but that said friend might be freaked out by the fact that Mrs Wilson wanted to see him…

As he approached his front door, Flint heard a shout behind him, and he looked back to see Beats approaching. Flint almost laughed as he saw him up close, and realised what an effort his friend had gone to to make himself presentable for the evening, even down to wearing a bow tie. Beats just shook his head, and said, "I am making the effort on your behalf. I even stopped off at a kosher bakery on the way here and bought proper sufganiyah as a gift…"

Flint's smile widened at that, being a great fan of the round, jelly filled donuts, reliant on his relatives buying them as a child, as his mother did not wholly approve. "Of course, I do know how much you like them. In further proof as to why I am the best best friend ever, I even asked Nick yesterday why he had never attempted to make jelly filled donuts. Given the way that Jeff's eyes promptly lit up, I think that you can bet that our resident baker will be making an attempt soon. So, are we going to stand out here all night, or go in before your mother wonders why we haven't come in yet. I can feel that the curtains are being twitched without even seeing them move."

Flint laughed at that, and they headed inside. It was only as the elevator door closed behind him that he realised that Beats had nothing on his hand. As if anticipating his friend's question, Beats said, "So I did try on the bandage, and it wasn't all that practical for eating and stuff. So I spoke to Elliott, and he agreed with me that if it was good enough for Thes, then it was good enough for the two of us for a short time. He understands exactly why it is necessary…"

Flint watched as Beats unbuttoned a couple of buttons on his shirt, and revealed his wedding ring hanging off a cord round his neck… "You shouldn't be having to do this at all. I should have been stronger and had the courage to invite all of you to dinner."

"Honestly, as we are still getting Ty settled in, this is a better idea. The last thing we need at this point in time is him going to Children's Service and reporting to them that we subjected him to a dragon…"

Flint shook his head, then said, "She might just surprise you there. Apparently she told Mirabelle this morning that she was looking forward to seeing you…"

His words meant that when the elevator opened at the right floor, Flint had to wait for a moment as Beats recovered from his shock, then stepped out gingerly. They both took a deep breath, so nearly in unison that they almost giggled, then headed inside. They found Mrs Wilson waiting for them in the hallway. "I was not quite sure if it was the two of you that I saw outside, given how long you stood there… Anyway, it is very nice to see you again, Nathaniel."

"And you too, Mrs Wilson. How have you been, and Mr Wilson for that matter?" said Beats with a smile.

"We are both well, thank you; just living life as well as we can," Mrs Wilson replied, then carried on with a smile, "I have to admit though that I am a little disappointed. When Flint told me that he had invited you to dinner, I did think you might be bringing your husband and son…"

There was silence then as Flint's jaw fell open and Beats' eyes widened, and he considered bolting for the door. "I have to admit that it was quite the surprise when the court case came up at the Ladies' Circle meeting last year; having read the story, we all came to the agreement that given the circumstances, the boy was better off remaining with his two adoptive fathers. Of course, the names didn't mean much to me then; it was only after Thanksgiving, when the photograph of the three of you appeared in the press that I actually realised that it was you. I have to say that your husband looks charming, and your son seems so happy to be with you both."

As Flint gawped open mouthed, catching flies, Beats recovered his composure, and replied, "We are all very happy together, and in fact we have actually just started to foster another boy that was in a very similar situation."

"Well that is wonderful! As I was saying to Flint and Izzy on Thursday, every child deserves a sibling. Come through to the lounge and you can tell me more about all of them before we go into dinner. I have to say that it is so refreshing to see a young man taking such great care of others."

"Thank you, Mrs Wilson - oh, and before I forget…" said Beats as they headed into the lounge, leaving Flint stunned and flabbergasted in the hallway. He stood there with his mouth still wide open as he heard his mother thanking Beats for his kind and appropriate gift, and offering him a drink. He barely heard the front door open and close again behind him, and it was only when Izzy was stood in front of him, regarding him with curiosity, that he regained his senses.

"My mom knew all about Beats, Elliott, and Dante before he got here, and does not care. I am beginning to think she has been body snatched," he whispered.

Izzy shook her head at him, although his mother's behaviour was the perfect explanation for her husband's current state. Then in a whisper of her own, she replied, "I see… Well, it will make things tonight a lot similar, won't it, my handsome, definite, father-to-be…"

For the first time in his life, Flint realised what his wife was hinting at immediately; he grabbed her and hugged her close, lifting her off her feet in the process, which made her squeal, then laugh. "Do you want to give the game away! Nine days could turn into nine months if we aren't carefully," she hissed, which made her husband shiver at the thought.

"You're right! She would never leave! Okay, so I need to think about the saddest things in the world, like how I felt when I found out that Wes had died," Flint said. His face at once fell enough to be convincing around his mother, but he still looked and felt reasonably cheerful. "I wonder how they are getting on in there," he mused to his wife, not hearing much from the other room. Flint headed in whilst Izzy went to freshen up, and he saw his mother looking at pictures on Beats' phone - he knew at once that they had to be of his friend's husband, son and foster son…

"Dante is doing so well at school, and he enjoys it because he is being challenged. He can also get on with his work because he doesn't fear being bullied," Beats was just saying as he stepped through the door.

"That is so important; it was one of the reasons why I took Flint out of the public school system when we were in Ohio and sent him to Dalton for the final years of his school life. Now, who is the other boy that appears in so many of these pictures? He is in nearly every photo of your son."

"That is Lachlan Rosenfeld; he is Dante's best friend, and to be honest, probably a little more than that… His mother was so helpful to us during the court case, as was his father; he got Wall Street involved in demanding that the city alter its rules on adoption."

"They are both still so young, but yes, you can see in the way that they are looking at each other that there is something there. I am also guessing from the surname…"

"The Rosenfelds are members of the same congregation as us, mom," said Flint, anxious to intervene and end the interrogation that Beats was undergoing. "We can speak to them properly on the Sabbath this week, although I warn you now that I do not want them questioned about everything for hours on end."

"As if I would!" his mother exclaimed, and behind her Beats rolled his eyes, which was no help really. "Was that Isadora that I heard coming in just now?"

"Yes, she is just freshening up, so we will be starting dinner imminently if either of you need to so the same," replied Flint. Mrs Wilson smiled at her son, then excused herself, letting Flint take a seat next to his friend.

"That was frightening! She was being so nice to me! Maybe it's just because I have matured enough that I have become acceptable to her standards… Right, so what had made you so happy? As in lift up your wife in the hallway when she tells you something happy?" asked Beats.

Flint suddenly realised that his friend had a line of sight right out into the hallway, and was so glad that he had been sat there, not his mom. "Oh, nothing… I was just so glad that you and my mom are finally getting on!" Flint replied. He could not failed to miss the fact that his friend raised a quizzical eyebrow at that, which he knew meant that he did not believe a word that he had just said…

The dinner that Flint had been fearing turned out to be a joyous affair. Aaron always loved to see his Uncle Beats, and the two of them sat next to each other on one side of the table; Mrs Wilson sat at the end of the table next to Beats, whilst Mirabelle took the seat at the other end, so she could keep an eye on her young charge. Her usual duties had been more or less subsumed by his 'uncle' however, who was only too pleased to help him with his food.

He had also recalled that Mrs Wilson like to offer prayers at the start of a meal, and he had offered to say them that evening before they began to eat. His offer was accepted and Mrs Wilson was suitably impressed that he knew the traditional form she liked, and was able to say it word for word. To everyone's surprise, and their guests obvious delight, she called him Beats when she thanked him, which made him smile warmly. Then they began to eat, and he made conversation with her, embarking on a discussion of the traditions of Hanukkah, and how important it was that they continued to observe them.

"I'll be honest with you, I am not from an overly religious family, my parents not allied to anyone particular church or faith. However, they always believed that if I wanted to be, then it was my decision, and they would back me up. As I have grown older, I have become more minded to believe, and my visits to the synagogue with your son, and indeed our fellow former Dalton boy Ethan, have convinced me that there is a place for something spiritual in my life."

"That is good to hear in these increasingly secular times," replied Mrs Wilson, not witnessing the way her son was gawping across the table at his best friend. "So many people of your age group profess to no face, or mix and match as they please, adopting the elements of other faiths into their lives…"

"Ah, the whole debate about where Christmas fits into the life of the Jewish community. My view is this; it has to be hard for parents these days with young children not to give in and buy presents for their children, given how they are bombarded with toy commercials non-stop. So the best approach is to be tolerant, to acknowledge it, and show tolerance in our dealings with the holidays of other faiths. In this world there are far greater evils to contend with, and that is where our focus should be…"

Mrs Wilson looked at Beats for a moment when he finished, and across the table, Flint and Izzy prepared for a backlash, but instead she merely nodded, and said quietly, "As long as it is in moderation, you may have a point…"

Eventually it was time for Beats to leave, and he surprised Flint by saying that they should all come to the Spotlight one evening later in the week, so that he could introduce Mrs Wilson to his family. The fact that she accepted on their behalf at once was also a shock to Flint. He walked Beats out, but not before Izzy had whispered in his ear, "You can tell him our news. I know you, and you are bursting to tell someone. I trust him not to spread it around."

As they headed back down in the elevator, Beats turned to his friend and said, "Well that was certainly interesting. I actually enjoyed it, and your mom turns out to be a really cool person when you get along. I know I might have pushed it with the comments about Christmas, but she didn't explode. So yeah, other than her awful taste in hats, she is pretty cool…"

"I never imagined the day would come when she would call you Beats, or when anyone would describe her as cool, least of all you," said Flint, shaking his head. "Trust me when I say that she is still a nightmare a lot of the time, which is why I couldn't tell you what was making me smile earlier, and why you must promise me that you won't tell anyone what I am going to say to you now." He paused as Beats crossed his heart in a symbolic gesture he always made when told a secret. "Basically, you are going to be an uncle again. It is very early days, but we are expecting another child."

"That is brilliant!" shouted Beats, promptly flinging his arms around his best friend in a bear hug, and then momentarily lifting him off the floor, which made Flint laugh. He knew that Beats would stay quiet, and that he was genuinely pleased for them both…