Recipe for a Perfect Family

This is part 2 of a two-part story. Click here for part 1.

-----

“He—the doctor had been telling him to start watching what he eats more, to try and get his cholesterol down, and he was down to only smoking two cigarettes a day—you know how much your father loved smoking—and he stopped taking a beer every evening when he came home from work; he only drank when we had guests over…” Margaret wipes a tear from her cheek. “And even with all these habit changes, he had a heart attack.” She blows her nose. “And this happened two weeks ago.”

Jenna shakes her head from side to side, in small, quick motions. She pushes herself back from the kitchen island and begins pacing, looking anywhere but in her mother’s eyes.

“Ju would have told me if that were true.”

“No. No, I told Ju that I wanted to be the one to tell you.”

“Yes, but it is very much like her to not keep promises.”

“But she kept this one.”

“No.”

“Look, sweetie I—"

“Don’t 'sweetie' me.”

“Jenna, there is no good way of learning that your parent has passed away, but it doesn’t mean—"

Tightening her fists at the thought of where this conversation is headed, Jenna cuts off her mother, turns to face her, and meets her gaze. She doesn’t break eye contact.

“He was barely a parent to me.”

“He was for the first 17 years of your life.”

“A parent is forever, and he failed at that.”

Jenna pushes herself from the island once again, turning her back to her mother. Without letting her mother see, she wipes off the tear that just ran down her cheek.

“I can’t begin to imagine what emotions you’re going through right now, and even though you two didn’t see eye-to-eye, you’re allowed to feel—"

“I don’t need your permission to feel anything. I…”

Margaret leans forward, and although she herself has tears in her eyes, she pushes the Kleenex box across the kitchen island, offering it in return to her daughter. Seeing this gesture from the reflection in the window, Jenna pivots, arms crossed tight.

“I don’t need a stupid Kleenex. Cause you know what? I’m not even sad. I’m just pissed.” Jenna grabs the nearest object—a pen—and closes her fist tight around it. “I’m pissed at you.”

Margaret tries as hard as she can to keep herself together for her daughter. Her lips are pressed tightly against each other, and she is barely breathing, forcing herself to stay silent.

“When I opened my door to you today, although I didn’t look it, I was hoping that I would get an apology. That after all these years, after all that you’ve missed, that you would have finally realized that you’ve fucked up and want to be a part of your daughter’s life, that you want your daughter in your life. But no. You’ve come here because the man that you sided with is dead, so you no longer have to take sides? Because your marriage is no longer on the line and you can do whatever you please?”

“No, I—”

“No, I don’t care what excuses you have, 'cause the truth is that you’ve stayed loyal to a man who didn’t even have what it took—a man who couldn’t even consider opening up his mind to new possibilities. I had told you months before him that I was gay. You were and still are okay with the fact that I am gay. But you never defended me! You never tried talking him into changing his mind! I mean for Christ’s sake Mom, he didn’t even let me pack a bag! He stood on the porch till I walked out of his life. And you… you didn’t even help me organize a way to get my stuff while he wasn’t there. Ju did. You just watched me leave.”

Jenna paces some more, faster than before, fidgeting with the pen’s cap.

“The least you could have done, and this is the very least and much lower than what I actually think would have been the best thing to do, would be to have reached out to me in secret. Text me on Facebook, call me while you’re shopping alone. Anything.”

Not realizing her strength, the pen’s cap falls to the ground. Before bending down to pick it up, Jenna turns her head to her mother.

“But you didn’t even do that.”

Margaret had tears falling down her cheeks but didn’t bother wiping them away at this point. She closed her eyes and took long, heavy breaths.

Jenna wipes off the first tear that appeared in the corner of her eye, then immediately recrossed her arms, looking out the window above the sink. It was completely dark outside, even though the stove only indicated 5:13. Remembering that the alarm for the meatloaf was going to go off in 2 minutes, she resets it, puts on her oven mitts, opens the oven and pulls out the dish. She lifts the tinfoil up, then, with a small laddle, scoops the gravy from the dish and pours it over the meatloaf.

“But I’m also really mad at myself.”

Jena gently puts down the ladle and folds the tinfoil back over the dish. She puts her mitts back on, reopens the oven door, slides in the dish, and closes it more gently than she usually does, as if trying to not make a sound. She pulls off the mitts, puts them down on the counter beside the stove, then finds her way to the sink, where she leans on each side and stares at her reflection in the window.

“When I met Gwen—when I married Gwen—I had no desire to see him. He didn’t deserve to see me on what was supposed to be my happiest day. He didn’t. I don’t regret my choice to not have him there, but he still managed to rob me of a part of the magic of that day. I didn’t get a father-daughter dance. I walked myself down the aisle. It was not what I had always dreamed of. And for this I’m mad at dad, because even though I was being stubborn by not even inviting you, he would have said no anyway. And that was the only thing I could say to myself to allow myself to enjoy the day.”

“But then we had Artemis. And Eros, and Rhea. And I am so unbelievably proud of them, and proud of me, proud of everything that I managed to become without him, but all I could think was how much I just wanted to show up and show off everything that he is missing out on. Everything that any parents would usually dream of but that he chose to give up. To show him his three extraordinary grandkids. To show him that I am so, so happy with my wife, and job, and house, and kids.”

Jenna lets the tears run down her cheeks, and into the sink.

“But I never did. Every year while visiting Ju I would drive by the house, but I never found the courage to stop. And I hate myself for it.”

Snaping out of her fixation, Jenna quickly wipes off a few more tears, then, with a more serious expression, turns around to face her mother, who was still in the same position.

“But more than anything else I’m pissed at dad. I’m pissed at him for making me need therapy. I’m pissed at him for being so close-minded. I’m pissed at him for making me mad at everyone and everything and for ruining so many beautiful moments in my life, because any time I accomplished something, the lack of his—and your—presence just made me sad. Every. Single. Time.”

Margaret let out a sigh paired with more tears than before, taking another handful of Kleenexes to dry the waterfall going down her cheeks. Jenna, face now dried by the anger inside of her, turns abruptly as she hears the sound of a car door close coming from outside. She looks out the kitchen window to confirm her thoughts. She immediately starts picking up all the used tissues and throwing them in the garbage can. Her mother, having heard the door closing as well, follows suit and helps her daughter hide all traces of emotional interaction. They both take the few seconds they have left to make sure they look presentable – Margaret pulling out her phone and Jenna looking in the reflection of the kitchen window. Once made presentable, Margaret leans slightly forward to find her daughter’s eyes.

“For what it’s worth, I regret what I did.”

The mother and daughter both listen as three kids and an adult make their way into the house. Shoes are being taken off, children are laughing as they get stuck in their coats, bags are being dropped on the floor.

“And I want to move here. I want to be the mother I should’ve been.”

Jenna stares at her mom, unable to blink. Half a second later, the tallest of the kids appears in the kitchen with a grocery bag. The child notices the stranger, gives her a shy smile, but heads over to her mother. Jenna wipes off her cheeks one last time before greeting her daughter.

“Hi, sweetie. Oh, my God. Is this all candy for tonight?”

“One bag of chips is for you, but the rest is for us!” exclaims Artemis, the oldest.

Jenna takes the bag from the child and tucks it in a corner in the kitchen. Two other munchkins enter the kitchen, followed by Gwen, who seems to recognize the figure and gives a quizzical look to Jenna, who nods back in response. The two younger children run over to Jenna, ignoring Margaret completely, hugging their mother’s legs, giggling.

“Woah, woah! Attention overload!”

Margaret can’t help but smile as she watches the scene unfold, more tears forming once again. Jenna notices this while she lifts Rhea into her arms. Gwen lifts Eros onto the counter, then turns around to empty the grocery bags, and Artemis finds herself a seating spot right beside Margaret. Over her shoulder, Gwen keeps her eyes on Jenna. Sensing this, Jenna looks over to her wife who mouths “You okay?” Jenna nods again, with watery eyes. As Rhea starts pulling on Jenna’s sleeve, Jenna wipes the corner of her eyes before returning her attention to her kids.

“Alright. Hey, do any of you know who this is?”

All three kids peer at the stranger and shake their heads no. Gwen looks back to see their answers, and exchanges a knowing look with Jenna as she turns her attention back to her task.

“This is Margaret.”

“Hello, Margaret.”

“Hi.”

“Hi.”

“And, Margaret, this is Rhea, Eros, and Artemis.”

“Hello, Rhea. Hello Eros. Hello Artemis.”

“And this is Gwen.”

“Nice to meet you,” says Gwen, once again looking over her shoulder.

“Nice to meet you too.”

They all exchange small nods of acknowledgement, Artemis even going in for a handshake, which Margaret goes along with.

“So you know how Grandma Finnick is your Mama’s mom?”

Once again, all three children nod along.

“Well, Margaret is Mommy’s mom.”

“So, she’s also our grandmother?” asks Artemis.

“Yes.”

Eros shares a look with Artemis and Rhea, then turns to his mother. “Do we just call her Margaret?”

“That would be up to her to decide what she wants to be called.”

Artemis, Rhea, and Eros automatically shift their attention to their grandmother, who is taken aback. Margaret looks over to Jenna, not sure how to proceed, but Jenna’s encouraging expression makes her relax a bit. Margaret looks from one child to the next, then settles her gaze on Eros.

“I guess you can call me Oma.”

Rhea had lifted her arms in celebration, testing out the name, and, following her lead, everyone rejoiced. Then, as if on time, the doorbell rang. Artemis jumps off her stool to run to the door, and Jenna puts Rhea down on the ground to then helps Eros off the counter. They both run to the entrance, Gwen following behind them, to welcome their guests for the evening. Margaret watches the kids as they disappear from the room, then lets her gaze linger on the doorframe that leads to the entrance.

“You can stay for supper if you want.”

“Oh, no, I don’t want to intrude.”

“Mom.”

“I don’t even know who your guests are.”

“And my children barely know who you are, so you are going to stay and get to know them. Okay?”

Margaret hesitates but, watching the children pour back into the kitchen full of joy and innocence, breathes out and smiles back at her daughter.

“I’d love to.”

-----

I'd love to know what you thought! Visit my Instagram (@n.m.blom), my Facebook page (Noémi Blom – Writer),

And, of course, if you liked what you read, you can find more of my stories right here, on my Vocal profile!