Cabin Affairs: Revisited

Step 4. The Neighborhood, part two

Step 4. The Neighborhood, part two

Playlist: “Awkward” by Craig David

“More coffee, Patricia?” Matthew asks Eric’s mother.

We had taken the three sets of parental figures on a full tour of the new house when they arrived before sitting down to enjoy the brunch I prepared and had warming. There were many ‘oohs’ and ‘ahs’ as we went from room to room. Matthew’s man cave in the basement was by far the favorite of the whole house - which it had better be after how much it cost. In fact, we almost lost all the men in there at one point in the tour.

I think that seeing Eric’s setup in the garage, including his bikes and tools for work, allowed everyone to understand how such a space would be helpful while he grew his home remodeling and estate business. Matthew’s parents were impressed by the setup, even though they asked if all these things would be difficult to move down the road. Matthew was the one who responded, saying that the garage was a base of operations for Eric indefinitely, and as far as he was concerned, it belonged to Eric as long as he wanted it. I shuffled us out the garden in the backyard immediately after that. It’s fortunate how much my mother-in-law enjoys her gardening.

We also had the downstairs guest room organized to look like Eric’s permanent place of residence, though he has never really used it. His bedroom, bathroom, and closet reside in the master, just like Matthew’s and my own. We never explicitly stated to the parents where Eric’s room was. Instead, we let them assume whatever conventional norms they want today.

Aunt Cathy had even reluctantly stayed in a hotel room with her boyfriend on this trip so as to make the situation more believable. At first, she wanted me to just be honest with everyone. After pointing out the religious and social conflicts with Eric’s and Matthew’s parents, she began to see my reasoning.

“No, I’d better not drink anymore. Caffeine is not exactly on my new diet-approved list,” Patricia answered my husband.

“I’ll take some, my sweet boy,” Maria interjected to her son before turning the conversation back to Patricia. “And how is everything with your recovery? I must say, you look fantastic.”

“You really do!” Aunt Cathy added. “You’ve gained back nearly all the weight you’d lost since the last time I saw you at Jenny Lynn’s birthday party back in the old house.”

“Well, thank you ladies. I’ve been feeling really great lately. Next week is two months officially in remission. I am currently breast cancer free! Although, I still get major anxiety before every scan, and I don’t think that will go away. But God has a plan. I accept what is, and that I am not always in control. The whole experience has taught me to find more joy in the moment. For example, these pancakes are perhaps the best I have ever had. What’s the big secret, Jenny Lynn?”

“Big secret?” I ask with more shakiness in my voice than I would’ve preferred. Matthew places his hand over my knee to keep it from boobing up and down, knocking on the dining table. Just his touch calms me.

Patricia continues on as if she doesn’t notice my nervousness. “Yes, dear. What’s your secret for making pancakes taste so good?”

“It’s all in the syrup, mom,” Eric answers, bringing all the attention in the room to his smile.

That damned perfect, mischievous grin of his threatens to give away our real secret. But having both my men trying to keep me calm does bring a certain confidence back to my voice. “Yep, it’s all about the maple syrup. For my birthday last year, Eric had arranged for a chef to come cook breakfast for the family. He brought a special maple syrup that is ordered specifically for that hotel. Now, that’s all I ever use. What’s it called again, E?”

“I think it’s called Bedford Farms from someplace in Canada,” Eric answers.

Patricia snickers and shakes her head at the two of us. Matthew squeezes my knee for more comfort and acknowledgment that he is sitting right beside me - both literally and figuratively. Still, the three of us are silent.

Why did I let the kids leave the table early? Where are my little distractions when I need them?

“What’s funny, Pat?” Henry asks his wife.

Great! Now, we’re prolonging the awkwardness.

“Oh, it’s nothing really,” Eric’s mom replies, gesturing at first to Eric and I, then to the rest of the table. “I’ve just always thought it cute that they call each other by their initials. They’ve done it since they were kids. I can’t believe it stuck all this time. Or that we’re even sitting here all together. That I’m around to see it. It’s just a funny set of circumstances.”

You don’t even know the half of it, Patricia! I think to myself.

“I know what you mean, Patricia. It’s like they had a secret language when they were kids. I guess it comes from being so close,” Aunt Cathy adds. I shoot her a look, which goes unnoticed. She has no fear. Ever.

“Doesn’t that ever bother you, Matthew?” Maria, his mother, asks with a modicum concern.

My husband just shrugs the question off. “Eh, not really. They’ve done that since I’ve known them. We really don’t sweat the small stuff around here. And we don’t give much credence to the nomenclature.”

My God, Matthew is so brilliant. He always chooses his words in such a way that he can manipulate the conversation, or derail a train of thought before it crashes and destroys us all. That is the benefit of years in a courtroom, I suppose. In this case, he’s shutting down his mother’s worry about my closeness with Eric by focusing on our long history of friendship. Then he used the pronoun ‘we’ to describe the three of us, subtly making the concept a normality. I really hope that one day it is.

“Well, as much as I hate to argue with a lawyer, I must disagree with you on that one,” Aunt Cathy speaks up with an air of polite banter. “I think Shakespeare was wrong. There is definitely something in a name. I once broke up with a guy because he kept calling me baby. I’m a strong, independent woman. Who wants to be referred to as a child all the time?”

Her boyfriend, Gale, shuffles a bit in his seat. He’s the worrying type, even though they have been dating for years. But to my embarrassment, it is Matthew who pushes the conversation forward. Leaning over to me on his right side, he asks me loud enough for the table to hear, “What do you think about that, baby?”

Baby. The term he only uses when we are sexually engaged and his dominant side is in control. While he keeps his voice light and playful, my brain cannot separate the lust that usually accompanies a question like that from my sexy husband. I cannot even bare to look at him as my cheeks grow hot. What’s worse, Eric laughs because he knows what this moment is doing to me. After all, he’s the only other man to see that part of our relationship up close and personal.

“Hey, I’m all for nicknames,” Eric jokes. “I tried Matt, Mattey-boy, and snook ‘ems, but nothing took.”

Matthew snorts. Their bromance is on full display. “I told you. It’s Matthew or sweet cheeks. Nothing else!”

“Sweet cheeks?” Matthew’s dad booms out in laughter, slapping his knee. “You boys are getting pretty close living together. Poor Jenny Lynn is going to start feeling left out.”

“I don’t think there’s any chance of that. Right, sweet cheeks?” Eric asks Matthew.

Matthew moves his hand from my knee under the table to around my shoulder. All the while exchanging an equally dark smile with Eric on the opposite side of the table. “No chance, beef cake. Jen’s always getting stuck in the middle of things.”

Maria, Matthew’s mother, is wearing her eyebrows practically in her hairline. “The three of you are very familiar, aren’t you?”

Someone hand me a bucket of ice water to dump all over Matthew! Actually, make that two buckets. Because now both Matthew and Eric are laughing. I wonder if they know the price they will pay for these jokes.

Patricia saves me. “Well, I’m not the one to ask about names. I named my five boys according to the alphabet. Adam, Benjamin, Chris, Dillon, and Eric. Who knows if I would’ve continued with the trend, but I stopped when I got my girl.”

“I thought you had five boys?” Maria asks, now redirected to the original topic of conversation.

“Oh, I do. I was referring to Jenny Lynn. She’s our only girl,” Patricia clarifies. Maria seems as happy with that answer as I am.

Patricia’s sudden display of maternal love fills me in a way I do not expect. I know in my gut that she would struggle with the concept of our romantic threesome, but at least I know I have her acceptance as good enough for her family and her son. Perhaps that is why losing both my parents so abruptly as a little girl never left me feeling utterly alone. I had Aunt Cathy, of course, but Eric’s family took me into their hearts. Then, Matthew’s family loved me from the start, and embraced our surprise pregnancy early on. I have been beyond fortunate to encounter such openness in my life.

On the other hand, everyone has their limit. Particularly in that older generation. Just because love may be unconditional does not mean you should unnecessarily test it. At least we have made it through this first visit without many hiccups.