5 - Decorating Drama

December 3, 2016

The afternoon sunlight shone brightly from the Navesink and into their New Jersey living room, glinting off glass ornaments that were dispersed across the sofa cushions, the coffee table and every other available surface.  Those were “their” ornaments, compiled from a box of “his” and two boxes of “hers”.  There was also an assortment that hadn’t survived the last year, and those were in a wastebasket by Charlie’s feet. 

The menial chore was providing Charlie and her impatience with a distraction while they waited for their children to arrive for dinner and tree decorating.  Jon was untangling the lights, because he didn’t trust her not to wrap them around his neck. 

He was not a dumb man. 

Considering how he’d stonewalled her for the last forty hours on all things Caleb, his health was definitely at risk. 

No matter how creative she was about prying information, his answer was always the same – Caleb would tell her everything she wanted to know.  Reminding him of wedding vows and where his loyalty should lie was useless.  He just gave her that watered-down stink-eye along with a cryptic reminder to look beyond the negative.

It irritated her enough to get laid twice last night and once this morning. 

Then again, maybe that’s why he did it….

“What time is it?”

Without looking at the massive mantle clock that he called a watch, her husband calmly advised, “Two minutes later than the last time you asked.”

Most of the kids weren’t scheduled to be there until early evening, but the son who was still dodging her phone calls told Jon he’d be there by three. Two minutes later than last time she asked meant it was two forty-seven.

If he’s late, I’ll kill him and Jon both.

“Don’t be a smartass with me.  I wouldn’t be so uptight if you’d tell me what to expect.”

“So you’ve said – several times.”

His emotionless tone was annoying, and she threw a pom pom Santa at him.  “You’re an asshole.”

“Also something you’ve said several times.”  Crinkled blue eyes looked up from the strands he was sorting, and they held a Santa-eque twinkle that did nothing to soothe her annoyance.  “You gotta get some new material, Counselor.”

“Okay, fine.”  A reindeer missing one eye went into the wastebasket that wouldn’t be thrown out until all six kids gave their approval.  “Tell me what you want for Christmas, because I have no idea.  I don’t have a spare four million that you didn’t earn, and we don’t need anymore houses or cars.  You wear the same jeans and shirts day after day, without even caring if they’re clean.  It makes it hard.”

One more neatly wound light string went next to the tree that awaited adornment.  “Technically, you didn’t get me anything last year, since I tore up the check.  Anything’s a step up.”

She’d kill him right then and there if it wasn’t for the irony.  “That’s exactly what Lilah said, so take that, smartass.  You think like Lilah.”

“She’s right once in a while,” he grunted and straightened with a grimace that gave her a sadistic smile.  All the bedroom anger was taking a toll on his back, but he still stopped to bend and steal a quick kiss.  “What I want is for you to be reasonable when Caleb gets here.  Don’t go into Counselor mode and put him on the witness stand.  He’s been thinking about what to say for a fucking week, so let him say it before you pounce.”

Huffing, she dropped her hands in her lap.  “How about you stop making me a heinous bitch in this story?  It’s easy for you to tell me to be reasonable when number one, you know everything already, you smug SOB.  Number two, this isn’t one of your kids.”

“Don’t start that shit with me,” he growled, hooking impatient hands over his hips to hit her with a scowl.  “You know Noah and Caleb are as much my family as Jesse or Jake.”

“Yeah, but they’re more like nephews than your babies, Jon.  If this was Jesse, you’d be having a conniption.  And if I was the one keeping these secrets…”  She rolled her eyes with a scoff.  “You’d either be furious or pouting.”

“Kind of like you are?”

“My point exactly!” Charlie crowed.  “You wouldn’t like it any better than I do, so stop being so damn righteous.”

It was obvious that her point hit home, because Jon shook his head with a slow sigh.  Things were different when the shoe was on the other foot and he’d just switched feet.

Gently sweeping some of the ornaments to one side, he cleared a seat on the coffee table to sit in front of her.  “Look,” he began gently.  “If this was Jesse….  I don’t know.  Maybe I would take it a little harder, but that’s the only difference.  I’d still make him accept responsibility for his actions.  There is no easy way out in life, and these kids – our kids – have to learn that.”

“So you’d let him blindside Dorothea while quietly sitting on insider knowledge?” 

Charlie found that hard to believe, but he was adamant.  “I would.  If he isn’t smart enough to tell us both at the same time, and only deal with it once, then yes.  Absolutely.”

“It doesn’t sound like Caleb had anything to ‘deal with’ by telling you,” she grumbled. 

“I tell ya what.”  Strong hands came to wrap around hers and squeeze.  “I will make sure you get full disclosure before you go to sleep tonight.  If Caleb leaves anything out, I’ll either prod him or tell you myself.  Swear to God.  But he didn't get a free pass from me.”

Her husband was a jerk sometimes, but he wasn’t a liar.  This was the guy who gave her divorce papers with his marriage proposal, and again as a security blanket on their wedding day.  He had earned and deserved her trust.

“Okay,” she sighed reluctantly, shoving a hand through her hair before nailing him with a stern look.  “But I need you to say it’s going to all be okay, Jon.  I need you to reassure me this is going to work out.”

Chiara didn’t need him to tell her jack, and Jon knew it.  She was smart, and mentally processed things a hell of a lot faster than he did.  There were probably a dozen contingencies already established in her mind to make this work out in a way she could live with.

“No, you don’t.  You know it already, if for no other reason than because you won’t settle for anything less.”

“But I want to hear it from you,” was her insistence, and the toughest women he’d ever butted heads with showed him a rare sliver of insecurity.  “I trust you.  If you say it, my heart will believe it.”

Chiara wasn’t one to spout romantic notions.  As a guy from Jersey, they didn’t impress him much anyway, but this was probably the nicest thing she ever said to him.  Her trust was epic, especially considering the mind games that damned Owen had used to manipulate her. 

If she trusted him, what choice did Jon have after but to give her the reassurance she wanted?

Tucking a knuckle under her chin, he met cocoa irises and firmly asserted, “This is going to be okay.”

“Are you just saying it, or do you really think so?”

The lingering ghost of doubt inspired him ooze enough confidence for both of them. “I really think so.  Hell, his path is taking a turn none of us expected, but he’s your son, baby.  You raised both your boys to be smart, capable and self-sufficient.  I get that this wasn’t your dream for him, and so does he, but this is not even close to the worst thing that could happen.”

“I realize that,” was the perturbed grumble that came with the relocation of Jon’s hand from under her chin to her denim covered thigh.  “Part of this anger is tied to vanity, to be honest.  I’m too young to be a grandmother.”

“You’ll be the hottest grandma in Jersey or Brooklyn, and I’ll make being a rock star grandpa all the rage.  This is only gonna pimp our images, baby.”

For the first time today, he was treated to a genuine smile and laughter, even if she did pat his face just a little too hard.  “You’re cute, Bongiovi.  Annoying as hell, but cute.  I’m going to keep you.”

He was about to make an equally wise-ass remark when the voice they’d been waiting for called from the foyer.  “Anybody home?”

That quickly, Chiara’s smile faded, and shimmering eyes hardened with worry and unhappiness.  “Keep me from killing him, Jon.  I don’t want to spend Christmas in jail.”

“Living room!” he called out before lowering his voice.  “You’re not going to kill him.  You’re going to be proud of him.”

The counselor's facial expression conveyed disbelief, but she kept it quiet as Caleb entered the room with his head held high – followed by Noah.  It was a good move bringing his older brother along, because that prompted her to rise with a smile. 

“If it isn’t my handsome son.”  Stepping into Noah’s arms for a hug, she tipped a kiss up to his cheek.  “Nice of you to bring this other guy with you, since he seems to have forgotten who his mother is.  At least I assume he has, since nobody blocks their own mother’s phone calls.”

Cutting Caleb a look that screamed “dumbass”, Noah gave her a quick squeeze and release.  “And on that note, I’m going to look for something to eat before dinner.  No bloodshed on the Christmas ornaments, okay?”

“Coward,” Jon called after him, secretly amused.  He could hardly blame the kid for wanting to avoid the showdown. 

And it was going to be a showdown. 

Chiara’s arms were folded over her chest, and a flattened mouth matched equally flat eyes.  His wife wasn’t going to calmly sit and listen to what her youngest had to say without flaying a strip from Caleb’s hide first. 

“Your son or daughter will be in college before I get over how you’ve handled this, Caleb Foster.”

“I’m sorry you’re upset,” he sighed, sliding from his puffy jacket and draping it over the back of a chair.  “But I had my reasons.”

“Well, I would hope so.  I hate to think you were asking Jon to do your dirty work just because you’re lazy.” 

The boy’s eyes darted his way, but Jon just shrugged.  Caleb was on his own now.

“I thought maybe you’d take it better coming from him.”

“No,” she interrupted sharply.  “You thought I’d yell at him instead of you.  Instead, you both get it.”

Caleb didn’t look as much like his mother as Noah, but there was still a resemblance.  Jon couldn’t miss it in the identical set of their jaws and taut facial features.  He offered a moment of gratitude that this son was the more laid back of the two.  His temper wasn’t quite as fiery as Chiara’s and Noah’s.  That would make this go more smoothly.

He hoped.

“It’s not yelling I wanted to avoid, it was disappointment.”  Jon was proud of how the boy didn’t look away but spoke directly.  “Look, Mom.  Becca and I are having a baby.  I’m sorry, but it is what it is.”

“Did you even-“

“Yes, I used a condom,” he interrupted, clearly having prepared himself for that inevitable question.  “It just wasn’t effective.  I have super sperm or something.”

When the counselor covered her eyes with one hand, Jon smirked.  Putting her off balance was one way to reroute the conversation, but she recovered quickly and the hand fell away to remind, “Your super sperm leapt the condom in a single bound six months ago, Caleb.  Six months!  Why in the hell did you wait so long to tell anybody, regardless of who it was?”

Dejected brown eyes shifted to the windows before asking, “Can we sit down, so I don’t feel like you’re constantly about to lunge at me?”

A sharp flick of the wrist directed him to take the chair where his jacket rested, and Chiara took the same sofa cushion as before.  It enabled Jon to splay a palm over her thigh and curve his fingers into the denim as a silent reminder to be reasonable. 

“I am being reasonable,” she muttered under her breath before resuming the inquisition.  “We’re sitting, so tell me why.”

Lifting his Yankees hat to swipe a restless hand through his hair, Caleb reseated the hat and squared his shoulders.  “I wanted to have answers and a plan first.  You were already going to be mad about the baby.  Me showing up scared and clueless wasn’t going to help matters.”

Finally, the rigidity seeped out of Chiara’s spine, and weariness replaced aggressiveness.  Jon would bet she didn’t like being perceived as unapproachable by her kids, and her tired words proved him right. 

“Caleb, I am your mother.  I expect you – want you – to come to me when you’re in trouble.  Yes, I’m going to have emotional reactions that you may not appreciate, but it’s because I’m scared and clueless, too.  We could’ve figured it out together.”

One of the kid’s lanky shoulders lifted with diffidence.  “You always said if we make a mess, we have to clean it up, so I tried.  When Jon said I had to be a man if I was going to be a dad, I went back and tried harder.  Now I’ve got it.  I’ve got all your answers, Mom.  I still need your help, but I have a plan.” 

A sheen of moisture glazed Chiara’s eyes, but Jon’s formidable wife blinked them away and dipped her chin with acquiescence.  She was ready to listen now, and he was confident that everything was going to be okay, just like he promised.