If By Chance - 21. Chapter 21

Given the fact that they’re barely a year apart in age, one would think that Lexi and Marti would be at each other’s throats more often than they were. I mean, yeah, there are the occasional taunts and arguments that go with any sibling pair, but it could definitely be a lot worse. I suppose, though, that over the years they’ve had to learn to respect each other’s boundaries. Otherwise, how would they ever have a moments peace?

Gerald promised Lexi that he’d take some time out of our schedule to let her show off her gown, and a promise is a promise. Listening to Mike and Erin go on about their offspring, one would expect that an afternoon alone with the two of them would be spent breaking up fights and bandaging wounds. That said, I was pleasantly surprised by the civility they displayed, not just to Gerald and I, but to each other.

“Oh my God, I love it,” Gerald gushed as Lexi extended her arms slightly and took a full turn, giving everyone in the room a full view of the gown she and her mother picked out for the wedding, a turquoise halter top that made her look much older than her 14 years. Her hair was pulled up tightly into a bun, accentuating her tan and showcasing her long, golden earrings. Her high-heals were a perfect match with her earrings, and she walked around the room with grace and poise, as if she weren’t wearing them at all. I knew that someday soon, she’d break her fair share of hearts.

Her brother, on the other hand, seemed visibly irritated with his shirt. It was obvious to me that whoever measured his neck did a piss poor job, because he almost appeared to be choking on his collar. His neck and shoulders were a lot thicker than most kids his age, almost disproportionately thick compared to the rest of his body. He’d been bragging about weight training, and my guess was that he was spending more time working on his traps and neck than anywhere else. His chest and arms were developed, but not as noticeably as his neck and shoulders. I silently motioned him over to me, and as he approached, I gently loosened his tie and undid the top button on his shirt, then I fixed his tie so that no one would notice that his collar wasn’t fastened.

“How’s that?” I asked as he let out a sigh of relief.

“I don’t think mom and dad are going to like this,” he cautioned me, but I dismissed his concerns with a wave of my hand.

“It looks fine, and I think if we stay quiet, they’ll never know,” I told him with a wink. “Now let’s do something with that hair of yours.”

With that, I pulled a chair out that was sitting against the wall and put it in front of the vanity, then I patted the seat. Marty took a seat and I went to work as Gerald and Lexi watched, obviously amused with what they were seeing. I used a spray bottle to dampen his hair, then I gave it a vigorous massage. I grabbed the tube of Spiker Ice that I had purchased just an hour earlier at the small convenience shop in the hotel, and I carefully dispensed it into my hands, rubbing my palms together until I was sure I had an even amount on each one.

Ten minutes later, Marty’s hair was a work of art that consisted of about twenty tightly twisted independent spikes. Nothing outrageous, mind you. His hair wasn’t that long, so the spikes themselves were no more than about two or three inches high, but they looked great on him and when he got up and looked in the mirror, he beamed.

“Okay, you two, go stand in front of the wall,” Gerald told them. The siblings complied, and at my fiancé’s urging, they linked arms and smiled. It was a quite a sight to behold, so I made sure that Gerald took several pictures for us to save when we got home.

Spending a few hours with Lexi and Marty was a drastic change from the company we’d been keeping earlier in the day, when Gerald and I sat down to breakfast with his mother. If ever there were such a thing as a human train wreck, it would be Mrs. Ballard. Just the fact that she could bring herself to sit across the table from me and Gerald with a smile as if nothing were the matter was astonishing, especially when it was so obvious that nothing was okay in her world.

The night before, her arrival caught the two of us off guard. So far off guard, in fact, that I looked cautiously around for Gerald’s dad, practically expecting him to assail the two of us at any moment, at least verbally.

“Wait right here,” Gerald said quietly before leaving my side to approach his mom, who was tucking her credit card back into her purse. Just like the pictures I’d seen, she looked good. She was wearing a blue evening gown and a shawl that seemed to compliment her attire. Sizing her up, I guessed that she was probably a size two, but definitely no bigger than a three. She initially smiled when he walked up to her, but I watched her smile fade as his mouth moved, and I could only wonder what they were talking about. After a brief dialogue between the two, she pulled an open envelope out of her handbag, and I was able to make out what she said next by watching her lips move; You invited me.

I watched as Gerald closed his eyes, took a long, painful looking breath, and let his head fall back, and that was all I could take. I assertively walked up to the desk and took my place next to my fiancé, ready to take a stand for him. My mind was racing, trying to think of something to say, anything at all, but Mrs. Ballard beat me to the punch.

“So you must be Dennis,” she said in a neutral tone, and in response I cleared my throat. I was honestly intimidated to be in her presence, and at the moment, I couldn’t understand why. Looking back, though, I know that it was because I had spent months rehearsing, gearing up for what was supposed to be the confrontation to end all confrontations. I wanted to put her and her husband in their places, and at the same time, be the knight in shining armor that would take Gerald off into the sunset once I had righted all of the wrongs that his parents imposed on him.

Instead, I stood silent, struggling to find the right words for the moment, not sure if we were going to have a fight or an amicable discussion. Would we talk about what she and her husband put us through all of those months, or would we act like it hadn’t happened? Would Gerald insist that she leave, or would we cave in and let her presence cause us undue tension? Did she come to ruin our wedding, or was she there because she had a sudden change of heart?

At the moment, the only thing running through my head was Holy Shit, probably the only inappropriate remark I could have made at the moment, so I kept it to myself.

Luckily, Gerald broke the silence and the awkward moment passed us by.

“Mom, this is Dennis,” he said. “Dennis this is my mom, Yvonne.”

I politely extended my right hand to her, and much to my surprise, she accepted it with a firm grip and a welcoming smile. I made momentary eye contact with her as we shook hands, and just like that, I knew what she was up to. Before I had the chance to release my grip on her hand, she leaned into Gerald and wrapped her left arm around his damp frame for a hug.

“You two are soaked to the skin,” she observed with a small amount of concern. “You’ll catch colds.”

“We’re fine,” Gerald said rather shortly, releasing the hug and putting his arm around my waist. “We were just heading upstairs to change into something dry.”

“I see,” Mrs. Ballard said in a tone that did little to hide her sudden distaste, as if she were just coming to the realization that we were staying in the same room. “Well I have to finish checking in. I’ll let you two go get changed.”

“Dennis, why don’t you go up without me,” Gerald said. “I’ll be right up, sweetie.”

With that, he leaned in and gave me an affectionate peck on the lips that I was sure singed his mother’s eyes. When he pulled away, he gave me the sweetest smile that I couldn’t help but return before turning to make my way back toward the elevator.

On the way up to my room, I contemplated the reasoning and potential impact of Gerald’s mom coming to our wedding. On one hand, it could mean that she was finally coming around to the fact that Gerald was in love and ready to chart his life’s course with me. On the other hand, it could be that she was there to try and talk him out of the wedding. Maybe a last ditch effort to change his mind and convince him that he was making a huge mistake.

Neither of those two possibilities bothered me in the least. I mean, if she was finally coming around, then I could welcome that kind of change. It would certainly be great for Gerald, and maybe she could get away from her abusive husband. Or, if she there to try to talk Gerald out of the wedding, I knew she’d fail miserably. My fiancé lived with nothing but terror his entire life until he left for college, and he was finally in a place where he was safe, loved and recovering from the nightmare of his childhood. There was no way he was going to walk away from the life he had, or the future we were planning.

Unfortunately, though, there was a third possibility that sent a chill through me. It was the most plausible of all explanations for her presence, and the thought of it was making me ill. Somewhere deep down, I just knew that she was there to extend an olive branch. Not one where she begged for forgiveness from her son for the way she’d been treating him. No, that one was most likely not forthcoming.

This was an olive branch with wisteria vines hiding in the leaves, waiting to latch on to us as soon as we accepted it and never let go. She would never be okay with our marriage, but she would always be in the picture. Not just a phone call away, either. Most likely, she would be in our faces at least three, maybe four times a year. Maybe more than that. She’d try to drive wedges between us and be as much of a weight on our relationship as she could. When we needed privacy, she’d be there to intrude on our space.

I’ve seen it before. I’ve had friends marry against the wishes of a parent and, unbeknownst to them, that parent found a way to prevail upon their new life and ruin what was supposed to be forever. I could see it from a mile away, but how do you tell someone whose friendship you cherish that their mother or father is out to get them and their significant other?

“My mom wants to have drinks with us at the bar,” Gerald said when he came back up to the room. “I told her I’d discuss it with you, but that I really didn't like the idea.”

Deep down, I knew I was making a mistake, but for whatever reason, I talked Gerald into meeting with her. Maybe I thought we’d get something accomplished, or that the confrontation I was expecting the first time around would actually materialize. Who knows?

Whatever it was, though, proved to be enough for me to convince my fiancé that it was something we ought to do, so he acquiesced. While he was in the shower, I was busy in the mirror, obsessing over my skin tone, of all things. Not so much for Gerald’s mom, but for my wedding day. Looking back, I guess I was probably distracting myself, at least subconsciously, from the issue of Mrs. Ballard, which is what I probably needed to do.

Because while on the surface I was still confident that things were going to be okay, deep down, I was silently dreading the possibilities. I didn't want Gerald to pick up on my anxiety, though, because I was afraid he’d think I didn't trust him not to cave in to his mother’s disapproval. After everything we’d been through, all the months of counseling, all the tears we cried, all the fights and eventually, all of the healing we’d done, I wanted to trust his judgment.

I slowly traced my fingertips along a deep crease across my forehead and grimaced. The only time that crease came out was when I was under pressure, and man, was I under a lot of pressure right then and there. I closed my eyes and used both hands to massage my temples, wondering what was going through Gerald’s head at the moment.

There was no way that this wasn’t weighing on him. In fact, I was sure that for every ounce of stress and strain I was experiencing at the moment, there was a pound of it resting on his shoulders. I also knew that he needed support if he was going to bear the brunt of the load, so I told myself to stop being so self absorbed and be there for him. To be his support system and take the pressure off of him, no matter what the next few days had in store for us.

“Gerald, you look like you’ve been taking care of yourself,” she observed with a polite smile as Gerald and I took our seats across the table from her.

“Thank you mother,” he said rather coolly, then he changed the subject. “Do uncle Mike and aunt Erin know you’re here?”

“I haven’t talked to either one of them,” she said with a dismissive shrug. “Your father might have called them after I left, but if he did, I wouldn’t know about it. He wasn’t exactly pleased with me coming here, you know.”

“Then what are you doing?” he countered, and Mrs. Ballard looked a little stunned by his tone.

“You know something, Gerald, just because your father feels a certain way doesn’t mean I go along with him lock step,” she told him. “I wanted to be here for you, son.”

“Mom, don’t,” he practically spat, shaking his head in disbelief. “You’ve made it perfectly clear to me over and over again how disgusted you are with me.”

With that, Mrs. Ballard lowered her head, but I wasn’t sure if it was out of shame for her past behavior, or because she didn't want to admit to the truth that Gerald’s accusations contained. I reached over and took his hand, giving it a supportive squeeze just as a cocktail waitress walked up to take our order. I asked for a shot of Glenlivet, Gerald ordered a draft Michelob Ultra and Mrs. Ballard ordered bourbon.

“Make mine a double,” she added, and for a brief moment, I almost felt for the woman. She was obviously there against the wishes of her husband, and against the wishes of Gerald and I. Mike and Erin probably wouldn’t welcome her arrival with opened arms, either. She was essentially an island at the moment, I had to wonder what the hell she was thinking about when she decided to pack her bags and catch the ferry to Provincetown. When she looked at the two of us with pleading eyes, I almost had to look away.

“I’m not here to start trouble, Gerald,” she said. “Dennis, I know what you’re thinking, too. I just want to be here to see my son get married. I don’t want to try to talk him out of it, I don’t want to ruin your ceremony. I just want to be there.”

“Why?” Gerald demanded.

“Because you’re my son and I love you,” she said, her eyes moistening. “Gerald, I’ve missed you terribly since you left for your last year of school. Did you honestly think that you could come to Provincetown and that I wouldn’t come across the bay to see you?”

“I don’t know what to think anymore,” Gerald said, his voice tinged with sadness. “This last year would have been hell without Dennis and his family. You and dad had so many chances to be there for me, and instead, you added to my problems. As usual.”

“Gerald look at me,” she said, her voice shaky and her composure fading. “What do you think would have happened to me if I hadn’t gone along with your father? Be honest.”

Before he could answer, the waitress returned with our drinks. I watched with great interest as Gerald and his mom both downed their drinks in one swallow, neither one taking their eyes off the other. I guess taking a double shot of bourbon to the head is no great feat, but I was a little shocked to see Gerald down his beer so quickly and immediately ask for a refill. I simply shrugged and followed their example, though I quickly found myself wishing that I had ordered a beer chaser for my scotch. When the waitress walked away to fetch our second round, Gerald spoke up.

“I’m surprised he let you out the door to come here,” he said a little smugly.

“It wasn’t easy, trust me,” she told him, shifting a little uncomfortably in her chair. “I paid a price, son.”

“What did he do?” Gerald asked, his tone changing from smug to serious.

“Don’t worry about it, I’m fine,” she told him, but Gerald pressed on.

“Did he hit you?” he demanded, and once more, she lowered her head. Gerald closed his eyes and let his head fall back, then he let out a loud sigh and straightened up.

“Are you okay?” I asked out of the blue, shocking myself as much as anyone else. Mrs. Ballard looked up at me with a sad smile and nodded, then she looked back down.

“Where at?” Gerald asked, and she rubbed her right arm. Before he could say another word, she removed her evening shawl and revealed a dark purple bruise that covered her entire bicep and the back of her shoulder.

The look on Gerald’s face was indescribable. I guess I could liken it best to a feeling of distress and helplessness, almost the way I felt when I was four and saw my dad pull my mom’s hair. But it was plain to see that this wasn’t a new emotion that was sweeping over my fiancé at the moment, and that was what made it even more heartbreaking to watch. I turned my attention back to Mrs. Ballard just in time to see a stream of tears falling from her eyes, but almost as soon as she spotted me looking at her, she straightened up and wiped them away as she cleared her throat and put the shawl back over her evening gown.

Our second round of drinks came, then a third, then a fourth, fifth and sixth. It was obvious to me from the way we were throwing them back that Gerald and his mom were driving toward the same goal, and that I was simply along for the ride. At some point the conversation completely ceased, and the mission was simply to get fucked up and forget about the fact that Gerald’s mom endured a beating from her husband just because she wanted to see her son.

The next morning I was up with the sun. I hopped out of bed and took care of my three morning S’s, gratefully taking note of the fact that I wasn’t hung-over. I meticulously applied shaving lotion to my face, then I slowly ran my razor down each side of my face, careful not to knick myself or to gouge the ends of my sideburns. As the blade glided down my neck, my mind flashed back to the night before and what a whirlwind it had been. I’d seen Gerald cry, and I’d been with him in what seemed like his weakest moments, but there was no way to compare what I’d seen in the past to what I witnessed the night before.

Because it wasn’t tears we were dealing with. No, it was something far more traumatic for him than I ever imagined. Because in the moment that Mrs. Ballard removed her shawl, I was able to see the wounds on his soul. I was able to see the scars on his broken heart, one for every time he wanted to protect his mom but he couldn’t. From the time he could walk, talk and understand what domestic violence was. Not because he learned about it in a classroom or from an after school special, but because his father had introduced it to him.

I stepped into the shower and soaped up, letting the steam rise around me as I soaped up. My mind was racing with worry. I wondered how depressed Gerald would be when he woke up, and I couldn’t help but think back on the awful story he told me about his dad waking him up to show him what he did to her. How he was trying to keep his eyes closed because he was frightened, and the horror that must have come over him when he was dragged out of bed and had to witness the end result of a monster’s rampage.

More than that, though, I worried about what was waiting for Mrs. Ballard when she returned to Boston. Would he do it again? Of course. It wasn’t a matter of if, but of when. And that had to be in the back of Gerald’s mind already. How couldn’t it be? What was she going to do? Did she actually have somewhere safe to go when her husband went overboard? What did Mike and Erin know about everything?

I stepped out of the foggy bathroom just in time to be greeted by a very rugged looking Gerald. Obviously he wasn’t sharing in my good fortune, but he still managed a smile when he saw me.

“Morning babe,” he said, his voice hoarse from thirst. “Call your mom and dad. We just got off the phone.”

I gave him a peck on the cheek, then I did what he said. I halfway explained to my mom that Mrs. Ballard was there, but I left out the rest. I hated to keep facts from my folks, but this was Gerald’s issue at the moment, and it needed to be his decision if we talked about it with anyone else. I invited my mom and dad to have breakfast with us, but they declined, mainly out of deference to Gerald and his mother I think.

When Gerald got out of the shower, I waited for him to get dressed. When he sat down on the bed to put his socks on, I took the opportunity to sit next to him and wrap my arms around him. Sometimes, I find it’s more comforting to sit in silence and just let the moment unravel on its own. Gerald was the first person that I ever wanted to just sit with, the first person that I ever found intimacy with where there was no sex involved. Holding him tightly in my arms and listening to his body, its entire functionality from his lungs to his heart, was a special way of making love with him. Because there was a connection there that was so real and so profound, and I found myself wishing that we could just stay where we were for the rest of our lives.

Unfortunately, there was business to tend to. Unspoken business and commitments that we had made to others. We had phone calls to make and loose ends to tie up. There was one bit of unspoken business that I couldn’t get out of my head, that I wanted to approach Gerald about, but I had no idea if it was appropriate or not. Finally, I just blurted it out.

“We have to help her get away.”