He picks her up after work on a Friday, and they drive down the coast. They spiritedly debate Stones vs. the Beatles and share stories about concerts they have been to. They grab burgers from a truck stop and keep going.
Gradually, she feels nervous. What was I thinking, agreeing to spend the weekend with people I don't know? Owen seems nervous about something too, he becomes less chatty and more brooding.
They pull up to a cozy two-story home in a quiet suburb. She is startled by the sheer number of people that pour out to greet them. Owen is swamped by small children clamouring for "Uncle Owen", plus the rest of his family. If they try to hug me, I'm jumping back into the SUV.
Owen, ever the gentleman, introduces her to his parents first. She's not surprised that they are casually friendly in a somewhat hippie way. His father, Jon, is as tall as Owen, and greets her shyly. His mother "Call me Charlie" is as short and rounded as Bailey, but redheaded and blue-eyed like Owen. Then she's introduced to a gaggle of redheaded brothers and effusive sisters-in-law, and several children ranging in age from a baby to a ten year old.
Charlie shows them where they will sleep – Owen's childhood bedroom, now her painting studio. Her art supplies have been shoved haphazardly against the walls, and a bed has been made up out of a camp bed and spare blankets.
"It'll be like camping," Owen chuckles, sitting down on the bed as Charlie leaves them alone to get settled.
"I don't camp," she notes dryly. "So this was your room?"
"Yep! It's the smallest bedroom, but I picked it out when we moved here so I got to have my own room without my little brothers breaking my stuff."
She nods, absentmindedly looking around the room. She tries to imagine what it must have looked like, filled with Owen's mementoes and toys, and fails. What was he like as a child?
"Look at this." He jumps up and points out marks on the doorframe.
"Your growth chart," she notes with amusement. "You grew tall fast."
"Runs in the family."
"I noticed. Even your sisters-in-law are tall. Only your mom is shorter than me."
"Are you okay with this?" he asks, carefully watching her. "I didn't think to ask if you'd prefer a motel instead. We all just pile in and my parents always find a space for everyone to sleep."
She shrugs. "You have a big family and I'm an only child, so I'm not used to so many people in one house. I'll live."
He nods, satisfied. Then smiles. "Hey, one of my teenage fantasies just came true!"
"Your what?"
He wraps his arms around her. "I finally have a hot chick in my room!"
She rolls her eyes yet moves in to kiss him. The door bangs open and two red-haired boys walk in. "Oh yuck!"
"Don't you know how to knock?" Owen asks, grabbing one of the boys and tickling him.
"Grampa said to tell you he has beer and snacks in the kitchen," the other boy announces.
"Well let's go then," Owen says.
**
After a bite to eat, washed down with beer, Cristina gets a tour of the Hunt family home from Owen and his parents. The home is somewhat cluttered, especially with all of the people crammed inside of it. She is relieved that they aren't overly neat, like her.
They go down to the basement, currently filled with sleeping bags for the older grandchildren.
"I have to show you my special room," Jon Hunt says, reaching for a door. She notices that Owen is watching her reaction carefully.
Jon beckons her inside as he turns on the overhead light.
"A train room!" she smiles in surprise. In front of her is a train table with an elaborate model train layout and dioramas. The walls are covered with shelves crammed full of trains and parts.
"You like model trains," Owen notes with surprise as Jon beams.
"Are you kidding? My father had a train room, but nothing as big as this. And his layout was N scale like yours. I helped him put together the buildings from kits." She bends down for a closer look at a miniature farm.
"Owen, you've made your father very happy," Charlie smiles. "One of you boys finally brought home a woman who likes model trains. You're going to be his favourite daughter-in-" Cristina looks up, eyebrows raised. "Ooops, sorry, Owen said not to assume anything."
"It's all right," Cristina says, turning her attention back to the table. "Nice work on the river here."
"Owen helped with that," Jon says, stepping forward eagerly. "He helped me put together a lot of these buildings here."
**
That night, after finishing the tour and sitting up chatting with the adults, they finally go to bed.
"You ready for me to turn out the light?" Owen asks, as Cristina puts her toothbrush away in her bag.
"Yep."
They crawl underneath the blankets and Cristina snuggles close to Owen as he puts an arm around her shoulders.
"Look up," he whispers.
She looks up. "Oh wow, Owen! Who did that?"
He laughs. "My mother."
"Your mother painted constellations? On the ceiling? That glow in the dark? That must have taken her a long time!"
"When I started getting interested in astronomy, she bought a book and painted them so I could learn how to recognize them."
"Your mother is much cooler than mine. My mother freaked when I drew math equations on the wall with crayon."
"Your dad sounds like he was cool." He kisses her forehead.
"He was," she sighs. They lie in a comfortable silence, both searching out the constellations until they fade.
"So you're okay so far?" he asks.
"I am, yes." She pauses to collect her thoughts, stroking his arm. "Your parents are nice, your whole family is, actually. Very welcoming. I'm glad I came. I didn't know we both liked model trains."
"Some day, I'm going to have a train room too. That was one of the things I didn't like about the Army moving me around all the time – no way to set up a decent train table."
"I should get one too. We could give each other buildings for our birthdays. And we should go to a model train show together, Seattle has a good one."
"Sounds good."
**
Cristina wakes up early in the morning, partly out of habit, and partly because of her needs. She quietly crawls out of the bed and goes off to the bathroom.
When she comes out, she is surprised to see Charlie waiting outside, dressed in her robe. "Is everything okay, Cristina?"
She nods. "Yes, thank you."
Charlie smiles softly. "I heard you up and I was afraid that Owen was having another of his nightmares."
Cristina raises her eyebrows curiously. "No, not tonight."
"Good," Charlie nods. "Would you like to join me for some tea downstairs?"
**
Cristina sits down at the table while Charlie plugs in the kettle.
"Owen had terrible nightmares every night when he first came back after being discharged. He wouldn't talk about them. Then he up and left for Seattle and hasn't been back since. I've been worried about him."
She joins Cristina at the table. "I'm not asking you to tell me anything you don't want to, Cristina. But I am curious about how my boy is doing."
Cristina nods. "I've only seen one nightmare. He says that he doesn't get them every night. He's – doing okay, as far as I know. He doesn't like to talk about it with me, either."
"Can I ask when you met?"
"We met on his last leave before he went back to Iraq, before the attack. We met at the hospital where we both work now, he had helped with an accident and rode in on the ambulance because he'd trached a guy and was keeping him alive." And then I stapled his ass shut and he pulled an icicle out of me and kissed me like he knew me and I haven't been the same since.
"Sounds like Owen."
"Tell me about him as a boy."
Charlie smiles. "I don't know if you know this, but he was born while Jon was in Vietnam."
"That, I know."
"Ah. My friends and family were so upset at the thought of me being alone with a baby, but you know what? Having him saved my sanity. I missed Jon very much, but once I had his son, I was so busy that I didn't spend all day missing him, like I did before. Owen was a great distraction. He was always curious, he crawled early, he walked early, just so he could get his hands on stuff and figure them out."
Charlie laughs. "A lot of people said that I should find him a male role model until Jon came back, but I ignored them. I figured I was as good as any man, I was a tomboy growing up, I played with my brother's trains and popped him a good one when that upset him."
Cristina smiles.
"So it was just Owen and me for a while. He kept me very busy with his curiosity, and I loved it. I still missed Jon, but I loved that he left me with a bright and active son. Even when he came back, and the other boys started to appear, Owen and I had a special bond."
Charlie's blue eyes darken. "And then that god-damned war broke him."
Cristina raises her eyebrows.
"Pardon my language, but it's true. He's changed and I hate that. It's not his fault, I know that, but I hate what it did to him, that he doesn't tell me stuff any more."
Cristina, at a loss for words, gets up to unplug the now whistling kettle.
"I'll get that, sit down."
Cristina sits down again and watches as Charlie puts tea bags into two cups, pours the water in, then brings the cups to the table.
"I'm afraid I'm not the fanciest hostess," she smiles and shrugs.
"It's all right, I'm not the fanciest guest."
Charlie smiles at Cristina. "I like your style. Do you know what Owen said about you when he called to say he was bringing you?"
"What?"
"He said, 'Mom, she's smart, she tells the truth and she doesn't beat around the bush. You'll like her.' And he was right."
Cristina smiles. "Well, he was right about me liking your family too." She pauses, a little appalled and surprised at how sociable she's being. "Listen, Owen – he's trying. Trying to get through what happened and figuring out how to keep on going day to day. I only met him the one time before, but I can tell that he's changed. But – but he's okay."
Charlie smiles softly. "I'm glad he has you."
**
A couple of hours later, Owen makes his way downstairs. He's surprised to see Cristina and Charlie quietly laughing over something on the couch.
"What are you two laughing –" He looks. "Oh Mom, you didn't!"
"Nice pictures," Cristina teases, pointing to the open album in her lap. "I really like this one of you in Grade Eight –"
"Nine."
"Whatever. You could play connect the dots on your face."
"Thanks Mom," Owen grumbles, sitting down next to Cristina. "And you're mean, Cristina."
She laughs and kisses his cheek. "Apparently you like that I don't beat around the bush."
He groans, "What else has she told you?" as the women laugh.
"Can we come up now?" a small child yells from the basement.
"Time for Gramma to make breakfast," Charlie notes, standing up. "Hope you like cereal, Cristina."
"Sounds good."
"Let's go to the porch," Owen says, pulling Cristina up and out the door before she can say a word.
"Owen, what's wrong, did you have a nightmare?"
"Did I?" he asks her, frowning.
"No, why are you asking me?"
"I woke up and you weren't there. I thought something was wrong."
"Nothing is wrong, you didn't have a nightmare," she assures him, wrapping her arms around his waist. "I got up early like I always do, your mom was up, we went downstairs to have some tea and we just kept talking."
"That's all?"
"That's all. Your mom is so cool, we were having fun together. And she gave me excellent dirt on you." She nuzzles his neck.
He chuckles. "Maybe it was a mistake bringing you after all."
"Ha ha."
"So when do I get to meet your mother?"
"Never."
"Ha ha."
"Count on it." They kiss. "So what are we doing today?"
"There's breakfast, and then we'll probably hang out here for the morning, have lunch, then go to the park down the street for football."
"Yay."
"You could watch the kids if you really don't want to play."
"I'll play!" They kiss again.