Kinsley: A Family that's Actually a Family

I stayed asleep until almost noon, then laid in bed playing on my phone until my stomach grumbled too much to be ignored.  I got up and had some more leftovers from the night before, then took a long, steaming hot shower.  Then, before I could think too much, I got in my car and drove to the hospital.  At the information desk, I found out my mom had been moved to a different floor and got directions.  I rode the elevator up, wondering what I was doing.

When I found her room, I stood quietly in the doorway until she noticed me.  When she saw me, her face registered surprise, then anger.  "Did you come to yell at me some more?" she snapped.

"No," I replied evenly.  "I came to spend some time with you.  I actually don't want to fight with you, I just want to hang out for a little while.  If you don't want me here, I'll go."

Her face softened and she nodded.  "Come in, then," she said.  I walked into the room and sat down in the uncomfortable chair next to the bed.  We looked at each other awkwardly before she asked me how work was going, and I was able to talk about that for awhile.

I stayed for 92 painful, awkward minutes.  My mom took every possible opportunity to throw in a passive-aggressive jab, but I maturely ignored them for the first time in my life.  I didn't feel any better after I left, but I didn't feel worse either.

When I got home, I curled up on the couch and put on a movie.  I dozed off and on while I watched, until my phone rang.  It was 5:30, and Damien was calling.  He told me that he would be at work for a few more hours, so he obviously wasn't going to be able to go to dinner with his family.  "Do you think it would be okay if I went anyway?" I asked impulsively.

"Well...yeah, I don't see why not," Damien said slowly.

I wasn't sure what his hesitation was, so I quickly said, "I won't if you don't want me to, I just thought..." I trailed off, not sure what exactly I thought.

"No, I'm completely okay with it, and I'm sure my mom would love to have you," he assured me. "I just don't want you to go out of obligation.  If you truly want to go, I think that's great and you should definitely go.  But if you're going because you feel bad about yesterday, that's different."

"I truly want to go," I insisted.  "I didn't go to work today, and I just need something normal tonight."

"Okay," he replied.  "I'll call my mom and let her know.  Are you going to head over now?"

"Yeah, in a few minutes."  I knew that they usually ate between 6 and 6:30.  I hung up and went upstairs to brush my hair and teeth.  I touched up my minimal makeup, then headed out.  While I was locking the door, I got a text from Damien that said, "My mom is thrilled you're coming without me.  Can I spend the night with you if I get done early enough?"  I texted back that he could, then got in my car and headed for his mom's house.

Claire greeted me at the door, pulling me into a tight hug.  "How's your mom, sweetheart?"

"She's going to be okay," I replied.  "Thank you for asking."

Claire held me out at arm's length and looked me up and down.  "You need a good meal and a good night's sleep.  Is my son not taking good care of you?  I'll tell him--"

I cut her off, laughing.  "He's been absolutely wonderful, Claire, I promise."

Satisfied, she nodded.  "Good.  He's always tried hard, but sometimes he just doesn't quite get it.  I'm glad to hear he's gotten it together.  Come in, love, let me get you something to drink."  She ushered me into the kitchen.

Adrienne, Damien's 24-year-old step sister, was sitting at the island, flipping through a magazine.  "Oh," she said, looking up and seeing me.  "I thought Damien wasn't coming."

"He's not," Claire responded.  "Kinsley came without him."

"Why?" Adrienne asked, frowning.

"Adrienne!" Claire scolded her.

Adrienne pouted.  "What?  I was just asking why.  She's never come here without him before.  I think it's a perfectly legitimate question."

I answered before the situation could get even more uncomfortable.  "I was looking forward to coming, and I didn't see a reason to cancel when Damien couldn't make it."

"Oh," Adrienne replied.  She looked at me blankly for a couple more seconds before shrugging and turning her attention back to her magazine.

"Sorry," Claire mouthed to me when we made eye contact.  I shrugged and smiled.

Luckily, Adrienne avoided conversation with me for the rest of the evening.  Dinner was amazing, and after the events of the weekend, it was nice to spend some time with a family that's actually a family.

I was helping Claire clear the dishes, despite her protests, when the front door opened and Damien came in.  "You're not supposed to be here either!" Adrienne said exasperatedly.  Damien just gave her a confused look and walked into the kitchen.

I was surprised when he stopped to kiss me before greeting his mom.  "Hi," he said softly.  "Sorry I couldn't make it for dinner."

I smiled.  "It's okay, we had a nice time without you."

His eyes scanned my face and then he cracked a smile and took the bowl out of my hands and brought it to the sink.  "Hi, Mom," he said, kissing her on the cheek.

"Do you need some food?  I can make you a plate," Claire responded.

He shook his head.  "No, thanks.  I ate at the office."

"You know," Claire replied, "I read an article on the internet about why you shouldn't eat at your desk."

"Oh, really?  You should forward it to me, it sounds interesting."  He winked at me over his mom's shoulder and I bit my lip to keep from laughing.

"I'll make you a plate anyway," she declared.  "You can take it with you.  Have it for lunch tomorrow.  If you're going to eat at your desk, at least you'll have a home cooked meal and not some fast food garbage.  Kinsley, I'll make you a plate too."

"Claire, that's so nice, but you really don't--"

"Hush," she replied.  "You're taking some food.  You don't need to worry about cooking when your mother is sick."

"Your mom is sick?" Adrienne asked, looking interested for the first time since I got there.

"None of your business," Claire chided her.

"You said it right in front of me!" Adrienne replied, huffing out a frustrated breath.

"Is there any dessert?" Damien asked, interrupting their spat.

Claire turned and looked at him, hands on her hips.  "Is there any dessert?  Are you my son?  You tell me, is there any dessert?"

"I misspoke," Damien amended.  "What I meant was: what's for dessert, and did I miss it?"

"You didn't miss it, and I threw together a clafoutis.  If you actually do something useful like help that darling girlfriend of yours clear the table, I'll get it ready."

"I would love to," he responded, grinning at me.  I smiled back.  I loved listening to him banter with his mom.  She reminded me of my childhood best friend's mom, a boisterous, loving Italian woman who was always shoving food at people.  Claire had definitely inherited similar qualities from her Italian mother, though it was tempered a bit, perhaps by her French father's genes and disposition.

"What would like me to do?" Damien asked, coming over to the table.

"Oh, you knock that right off!" Claire called from the other side of the kitchen.  "You have eyes.  You can see what needs to be done.  Kinsley, don't you let him pretend like he doesn't know how to clear a table."

"Busted," I said, smirking at Damien.  He just laughed and started collecting the silverware off the table.

We left about an hour later, after having dessert and chatting with Damien's mom and stepdad for a little while.  When we got outside, Damien asked if I still wanted him to spend the night.  I told him I did and we got in our cars and headed to my house.

Once we were home, Damien looked at me carefully.  "How are you?" he asked.

"I'm fine," I replied.

"How are you really, though?" he asked.  "You took the day off?"

"Yeah, I was exhausted.  I'm tired.  I...went to see my mom today."  He nodded but didn't say anything.  "It was weird.  She was angry at me, and we spent most of the time I was there just silently watching TV together.  I also spent a lot of time ignoring her digs at me."

"I'm sorry," Damien said.

I shrugged.  "I had to go.  I had to feel like I tried, you know?  Just because she wasn't there for me doesn't mean I shouldn't try to be there for her."

"Just because she's your mom doesn't mean you have to, though," Damien countered.  It was the most anti-family thing I'd ever heard him say.

"I know," I agreed.  "But it seemed important."

"And?"

"And I don't know.  I didn't feel much of anything, besides annoyed at how passive-aggressive she was being."

"That's okay," he said.

"It doesn't feel okay," I replied.  "I feel like I should feel something.  She's my mom."

"Biologically, you're right.  But it sounds like she certainly didn't act like one."

"She was sick.  Depressed.  I don't know.  I don't really want to talk about this anymore."  I was started to get anxious because I couldn't explain my feelings.

"I shouldn't have pushed," Damien said apologetically.

I shook my head.  "It's okay," I assured him.  "I wanted to talk about it.  Until I didn't.  Talking about my family is still really new to me."  I fidgeted and stood, then sat again quickly.  I racked my brain for something else to talk about but it wasn't working.

"Let's go for a walk," Damien suggested.

"A walk?  Now?  It's dark."

"So what?  It'll help."  Without responding, I got up and put on my shoes.  Damien followed me out the door, and we walked quietly down the sidewalk, our arms brushing occasionally.  I realized quickly that he was right and it was really calming walking in the dark.  It was quieter than during the day, and the darkness was soothing.  After we'd walked for about 10 minutes, I stepped a little closer to Damien and reached for his hand.  He took it without a word and we wound our fingers together.

"You know," Damien said, as we neared minute 20 of our quiet nighttime walk, "my mom really likes you."

"I really like your mom," I replied.  We fell back into silence and finished our walk as quietly as we started.  I appreciated that Damien could be quiet without feeling the need to fill the silence like most people do.

By the time we got back to my house, I was calm.  Probably the most calm I'd been since my shower after our run yesterday morning.  It was strange to think that just a couple months ago Damien did a great job of (inadvertently) making me feel like a crazy person for how I felt about my family (and family in general).  The past two days he'd done a great job making me feel less crazy.  I was relieved that he had gotten to witness some of my family drama firsthand, and that I had finally told him more about them.  I had also gotten a chance to appreciate his unshakeable calm for once.  Maybe I'd work on appreciating that more.

I glanced at the clock as we walked inside and was surprised to see it was after 10.  "You must be exhausted," I said to Damien.  "You were up so early."

"Yeah, it was a long day.  I'm pretty tired," he replied.  "In fact, if it's alright with you, I'm about ready for bed."

"I think that's a great idea," I agreed.  We brushed our teeth at the same time, then he went to get in bed while I washed my makeup off.

When I got back to my room, I found him laying in bed on his back with his phone out, scrolling through something.  He set the phone aside as I tugged my clothes off and climbed into bed, and I curled against his side with my head on his shoulder for our usual couple minutes of cuddling before I rolled back to my side of the bed to sleep.

It didn't take long for my eyelids to get heavy, and I said goodnight and rolled away from Damien, onto my side.  "Goodnight, Kinsley," he replied.  "I love you."

I barely got the words out in return before I was asleep.