Page 21 of Brighton

“Mother, how dare you suggest I catnapped or dognapped somebody’s beloved pet.” I feigned an innocence I clearly did not possess, and Brighton smiled. “It’s not my fault if people let their pets out and didn’t pay attention to them. That was their problem. Besides, I found them better homes.”

“Right, my dear, innocent child. Edward keeps trying to talk me into getting a pet. I don’t know why I refuse. I do quite enjoy it when Simon comes to visit. Maybe I could meet your girls sometime or visit the shelter Edward volunteers at.” I swear to all things holy, I nearly fainted at her words. Never once had she offered to come to Ms. Kitty’s and I’d mentioned it a million times over to her.

“I’d love that, Mrs. Fulton.”

“Please, call me Laura.”

Brighton blushed. “Thank you, Laura.”

“Dinner is nearly ready, Laura,” Suzette called out from the kitchen. “Do you want to eat where you’re at or would you like for me to set it up in the dining room?”

“Honestly, I think here will be just fine, Suzette. There’s plenty of room for the four of us to eat here.” I loved that Mother always included Suzette when it was time to eat. Mother never forgot her at Christmas nor for her birthday. Nor did I, she had a gift under the tree from Brighton and me.

I swear my eyes bugged out of my head. Mother was very formal with her dinners and always had them in the dining room where we sat miles apart and barely conversed. This right here was a true testament to how she felt about Brighton. I knew he was the one and as much as I’d like to say even if Mother felt otherwise, it wouldn’t change my mind, but it would be something that always bothered me. Now I saw that Brighton had not only won my heart but was well on his way to earning Mother’s.

“Here, Suzette, let us help you.” Brighton and I rose at the same time and followed Suzette to the kitchen and helped bring the food out.

“This looks fantastic as always, Suzette. Please, have a seat and I’ll carve the turkey.” A few minutes later our plates were filled with turkey, ham, stuffing, all the traditional items that one would think of for a Christmas dinner. Oddly enough it always seemed to mimic Thanksgiving. Meal planning for the holidays lacked creativity and must’ve been chiseled in stone somewhere. We’d never veered from it, and I wondered if the world would end had we changed it.

“I am stuffed. That was fantastic, thank you, Suzette,” Brighton said after we’d eaten our fill. Suzette immediately rose to start clearing the table but there was no way we were going to let her get by with that. Even Mother stood and helped bring the dished back to the kitchen and together the four of us had it cleaned and quickly put away.

“Let me start a pot of coffee,” Suzette said, “we have pie and ice cream and can have it in the living room next to the fire in view of the gorgeous tree.”

“That sounds wonderful, darling,” Mother said, “we’ll meet you there.” The three of us went into the living room and while I started a fire, Mother and Brighton got comfortable. As soon as the flames caught, I cuddled in behind my boy on the couch.

“This is the life, the way the holidays should be. Good food and family to share it with.” I couldn’t remember the last time I was this comfortable.

“I second that,” Suzette said as she came in and sat a sterling silver tray laden with a matching coffee pot, creamer and sugar bowl, and four cups and saucers on it down. “I’ll be right back.” Moments later she returned with a second tray that had four plated slices of pie topped with a perfect scoop of vanilla ice cream.

“Please tell me that’s your homemade apple pie?” My mouth salivated as I inhaled the glorious scent.

“It is indeed. This one,” Suzette pointed to me as she spoke to Brighton, “more times than I could count finished off one of these pies on his own.”

“Who, me?” I said as innocently as I could muster, again not something I pulled off well. “If I recall correctly, I had too much and vomited.”

“And wasted a perfectly good pie,” Mother added, and everyone laughed.

Suzette began passing the plates out. “Here, let me pour the coffee.” I was the only one in the room who knew how everyone took theirs. I dolled them up, passed around the cups and sat, ready to dive in. When that first bite hit my mouth, a salacious moan escaped.

“Are you all right over there, son, or do you need a few minutes alone?” Mother teased. Brighton nearly choked.

“Mother, did you just crack an inappropriate joke?” I was dying inside. This was a new side of her I’d never seen and I freaking loved it.

“I believe I did, dear boy. I’m not as innocent as you believe me to be.” She winked at Brighton who giggled. What a wonderful evening this turned out to be.

Chapter Eleven

Brighton

This is how a family should be, wanting to spend the holidays together and enjoy their company to their fullest. Children laughing, playing with new toys, consuming far too much sugar. Bellies full of fantastic food. Sitting around the tree laughing and basking in one another’s company. Not the cold,it’s just another dayway I was raised. Sure, I understood some families didn’t celebrate for religious reasons, but my parents didn’t have those beliefs or a lack of funds that stood in their way. They were just boring old fuddy duddies and honestly, they stripped me of so much of my childhood. No wonder I turned into a goof when the slightest bit of attention was paid to me.

“This was my bedroom as a kid,” Daddy said as we stepped inside the room we were sleeping in tonight. It had a massive king-size bed anden suitebathroom that was the size of my kitchen and bathroom combined, probably even bigger. There was a large walk-in closet, and in the corner of the bedroom was a seating area with a sixty-inch television. This bedroom was a separate home in its own way.

“This room is bigger than my apartment.” I could easily live in this space. Add in a small refrigerator and microwave and I was set.

“Yes, and the scary part is that it’s exactly how I left it when I moved away for college.” Daddy shook his head. “I often wondered why I never hung posters, though. Mother chose most of the artwork in here and I never cared enough to protest. It’s actually done up quite nice.”

“That’s too funny.” I could imagine Daddy in here as a teenager, though he was right, it was completely devoid of the teenage angst. Posters of music groups and what not. Come to think of it, my old room was much the same way.

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