It was clear outside. Not warm but not damp either; without the threat of rainclouds. The mid-October weather was great for painting, I thought. So I took myself to my Mother's house where I knew the porch was in dire need of a touch-up. She was a very house-proud woman and the outside of her home ought to have reflected that as much as the inside.
Mother was still at work when I arrived so Izzy let me in and helped me locate the paint buckets in the basement. She didn't want to help with the job, despite that she would paint her room at any given interval. Instead Isabelle sat on the dry part of the deck reading a magazine while Max and I got on with it. My little brother had been more than keen to throw on some old clothes and help out.
It wasn't long before a familiar car pulled into the drive. Mother ran her window down while she waited for the garage to open – which it did automatically. She looked surprised and happy, which was exactly the effect I was going for. She needed a little more happiness and a little less work in her life. I hadn't realised how much she used to do for us all until she'd stopped. Now I was well aware of how much aid she really could use.
"You didn't need to do this!" She gasped when she headed up the pathway.
I shook my head. It wasn't about having to. And there was no reason to make a big thing out of it, in my opinion. "How was work?"
Izzy grabbed Mother's briefcase and ran it inside while we exchanged the usual pleasantries. We asked each other about work and both responded that things were just fine. I didn't mention the whole 'there's a good chance my boss wants to jump my bones' thing. That was between me and Magnus. And I guess Zach too, although we hadn't talked about it.
Max slid by us, very careful not to get paint on our Mother's suit at the risk of letting all hell rain down. I took the bucket from him and lowered it over the fence when he reached the bottom of the steps so he wouldn't trip and drop it everywhere. We didn't need white grass to match the fence.
"Thanks Alec." He grinned and went back to the beams. I think Mother was planning to ruff up his hair before she saw the flecks of white in it and changed her mind.
To make up for not helping us paint, Izzy offered to help cook dinner. Not good. What was worse was not having an excuse to turn down a plate of potential food poisoning. Magnus was working late; I had nothing to get back to. I crossed my fingers and hoped Mother would keep Izzy relegated to the chopping board.
Max had gone inside to get changed before dinner when my Father arrived. I was surprised to see him then and a little ashamed that I hadn't seen him at all lately. When he neared we both nodded in acknowledgement.
"Back entrance." I told him. "The paint is wet."
Father looked me up and down and asked me if I'd decided to roll around in the paint myself. I laughed. My jeans were already distressed, so the white smudges and fingerprints might have even been passable if my t-shirt hadn't also been splattered. My trainers were beyond repair so it was a good thing I'd worn old ones and not my boots. I could feel a drying patch of paint on my left cheek, as well.
When we went to the back of the house I saw that the fence there could do with a coat or two as well. I'd have to come back for that.
"Aren't you coming in?" My Father questioned me from the doorframe. I noticed that he hadn't knocked before he opened it, which I found weird. I wasn't sure if he'd earned that privilege of if he'd just forgotten that he didn't live there anymore.
"I need to dry off." I explained. "I didn't bring spare clothes."
"Borrow something of Isabelle's." He suggested. I could only blink at him completely clueless. "I don't mind."
This was a man who rarely joked, so you always could tell when he did. And this was apparently not one of those times. I closed my eyes and prayed for patience.
"I think you're confusing gay with... something else." I informed him.
As predicted he got that enlightened look on his face. Wow. Just wow.
"Am I?" He asked.
"Yes." I insisted, reminding myself not bang my head against the wall of the house. I would have ended up smearing paint on it. That wouldn't be good. "Wrong identification."
Thankfully we were interrupted before I had to listen to more of my Father's failed attempts at understanding me. Mr Diversity, he was not. Izzy did bring out clothes, which caused him to give me a doubtful look, before he realised they belonged to Simon. Then he turned a stern glance to her.
"It's for sleeping in." She said. It only hardened his features. Bad move. "He was going to throw it out so I-"
"Quit while you're ahead." I told her, before she dug herself a hole. She could explain the T-shirt that way, maybe, but not the lower half.
I went into the garage to change, washing my hands and face with the hose tap beforehand, then headed inside. Simon was smaller than I was, but he wore clothes that were too big for him a lot of the time, so the tightness wasn't too bad. I could have done with a little more length in the legs, though.
When I got in Isabelle was laying the table and talking about drama club. She was going to play Juliet in their next production, which of course left her giddy.
My sister was every teenage girl who thought Shakespeare was the most beautiful thing in the world, even if they'd never read a play. And of course, Romeo and Juliet must be the most romantic thing ever. I wasn't convinced, even after all the times Izzy had made me watch a film adaptation.
I remembered one of them, 'Fortune's Fools', which did the modern-retelling thing without the original dialogue (a la Luhrmann). It had been one of Izzy's favourites for a while, perhaps because it had starred a certain French actress I knew.
"I think Cam played Juliet once." I said, thinking it was a valid addition to the conversation until everybody went quiet. I carried on laying out cutlery and trying to figure out why that had been wrong.
"Cam being... Camille Belcourt?" Mother ventured reproachfully.
Izzy chimed in next, before I could confirm. She was adjusting the centrepiece - we always had one on the table - her disapproval simply rolled off in waves.
"I didn't know the two of you were close." She sounded like she'd rather chew glass than talk about this.
Now I knew what the 'mistake' was. I was supposed to pretend like Magnus and everything about him didn't exist in my sister's presence. Well, tough luck.
"She's Magnus' best friend, so I see her a lot." I bit back at her.
This, of course, wasn't strictly true, but I did hear from Camille over the phone a fair amount. She was a busy woman but she liked to check up on what was happening and Magnus didn't always tell her the whole story anymore. Which I was sure irritated her to no end. That was when she'd call me for my half.
Izzy rolled her eyes. Mother tried to look accommodating. Father looked like he wanted to be anywhere else. The whole thing was unpleasant for him in the oddest of ways; so close to home yet so out of his comfort zone.
"And… How is Magnus?" Mother asked politely. She couldn't hide the strain behind her smile. I must have got my defective subtlety gene from her. Izzy was the one who got our Father's outstanding facial control.
"He's great!" I smiled right back at all of them, to show that I wouldn't take them poking holes in my relationship decisions anymore. They were my decisions, after all. If I wanted advice - from Izzy especially - I would ask for it. "He sends his love, by the way."
My sister looked like she wanted to say more but was cut off. Mother sent her love back and Father changed the subject; and that was the end of that. We called Max in, we ate, we chat about other things and I arranged a day to come back and paint again.
I sighed when I finally left to drive home. When did I start to hate family gatherings?
Another family life chapter. I hope it was enjoyed and should get the next chapter "Break The Cycle" in the next couple of days. A big thank you for reading and reviewing as per usual!