Page 47 of The Wives of Hawthorne Lane
The front door swings open, the sound of it interrupting the moment.
“Sebastian?” Georgina calls as she stands from the table. Christina looks at her, a mixture of disappointment and resignation heavy in her pretty green eyes. Georgina’s heart contracts in her chest. Her daughter is so young to have her dreams snatched away from her, but she doesn’t know how to help her.
“We can talk more about this another time, okay? I promise.” She wishes that Christina would understand that Georgina isn’t trying to hurt her, she’s trying to protect her, to let her down more gently than her father would.
“Yeah,” Christina says with a sigh. “Fine.” She slouches in her seat.
Sebastian saunters into the dining room. “I’m home. You can stop calling me now.”
Georgina releases a heavy sigh, folding her arms over her chest. “Do you have any idea what time it is?”
“No.” Sebastian shrugs. “Not really.”
“You were supposed to be home for dinner.”
“Well, I wasn’t.”
“I can see that,” Georgina snaps.
Sebastian rolls his eyes as if his mother is nothing more than a bothersome gnat. “I had dinner out anyway.”
“Out?”
“Yes,” Sebastian sneers. “Out. As in outside of this house, as in with my friends and not mymother.” He spits this last word as though it’s unpalatable to his tongue.
“That’s incredibly disrespectful, Sebastian. You can’t speak to—”
“Mom!” he shouts.
From the corner of her eye, Georgina sees Christina jump in her seat.
“It was one fucking dinner, okay?” Sebastian’s palm comes down so hard on the table that the china rattles. “Get off my fucking back about it!”
Georgina stares, open-mouthed, at her son. At this nearly grownman standing before her with such disdain in his eyes. When had he become so angry? When did he start to hate her this much?
“What exactly is going on here?”
Everyone in the room turns at the same time to face Colin, who stands menacingly in the entryway to the dining room.
“Well?” he demands.
No one dares to speak.
“Sebastian,” he barks. “Outside. Now.”
—
Georgina paces the floor ofher bedroom. She’d come up here earlier after Colin pulled Sebastian outside, hoping that if she cracked open the window above the yard, she might be able to catch a snippet of their conversation. She hoped Colin would take a firm hand with Sebastian for once, that he’d rein their son in where she’d clearly lost control. Georgina couldn’t make out much of what was said but she distinctly heard the sound of laughter floating toward her.
As she waits for Colin to come upstairs to change, she busies herself by fluffing the pillows, smoothing the duvet, reorganizing the books on his nightstand so that the corners align just so. It’s what she does when she’s anxious: She cleans. It brings her some comfort to take control of her surroundings, to bring order to what she can. Georgina recognizes that this is likely a by-product of growing up in the relentless chaos of her mother’s hoarding, feeling ashamed of the dust and the dirt but being powerless to change it. Though, Georgina supposes, she could certainly have developed worse habits.
She hears the heavy thud of Colin’s footsteps ascending the stairs, and in moments he is pushing open the bedroom door. Georgina looks at him expectantly, waiting for him to recount the details of his discussion with Sebastian, but he says nothing as he pulls on the knot of his tie, loosening it around his neck. Normally she’d take Colin’s lead, wait for him to talk, but he looks, Georgina thinks, surprisingly calm, given the circumstances. Perhaps she could just ask…
“How did it go?”
“Huh?” Colin works at his cuff link. “Oh, fine. It’s been sorted out.”
“So you spoke to Sebastian about his behavior?” She can’t stop thinking about the laughter she overheard. She imagines the two of them outside sharing a joke, doling out pats on the back. She wonders if the tone would have been so jovial if it wasChristina’sbehavior in question. She doubts it. Colin has always been far too indulgent with Sebastian.
