So far, so good, Andy thought, as he and Kelvin walked down the stairs into the cellar.
Kelvin was happy that his mother was the only one home when they arrived. She hugged him tightly and hugged Andy, too, putting him immediately at ease. After a short catching up period, she told him that his room was available downstairs if he wanted. So they dragged their luggage downstairs.
Kelvin opened the door and smelled Snuggle with an undertone of moldy concrete. Andy looked around the cramped room. The queen-sized boxed bed took up most of it. On one side was a dresser, and the other side a wardrobe. A black shaded light hung low over the bed. Books were piled on the nightstands, the dresser, and the floor.
“It’s like I never left,” Kelvin said, manhandling the luggage into an available corner of the room. “What do you think?”
“It’s nice,” Andy said. “Your mom’s really nice.”
Kelvin sat on the edge of the bed, on the wooden railing around it. “I told you she would be.” Then he fell backwards onto the bed. It moved.
“A waterbed?” asked Andy, surprised.
“Brrr, it’s cold! Let me turn the heat on.” He struggled up and went to a nightstand, feeding a rope of an electrical cords, and finding a remote at the end. He turned a dial. “It’ll be nice and warm by the time we get in it later.”
“I guess I’m sleeping with you?”
“Of course you are.”
“Your parents won’t freak out?”
“Mom wouldn’t have told us to come down here if you weren’t going to sleep with me, right?”
Andy nodded. Kelvin walked up to him, put his hands on his arms. “Will you stop worrying?”
“I’m not as smart as your family,” he said. “When you were talking to your mom, I didn’t know what to say.”
“We were talking about stuff I was doing,” said Kelvin. “You told her about the stuff you did, too.”
“Not all of it,” Andy muttered
Kelvin kissed him lightly. “C’mon, let’s go back upstairs.”
Kelvin shut the door and led Andy back upstairs to the house. The cellar led out into a large parlor, full of cushiony couches and chairs, surrounded by bookcases, a baby grand piano set in the corner. He followed Kelvin back into the kitchen, which was to the right of where they stood.
“Need anything, Mom?”
His mother wasn’t in the kitchen. Kelvin looked out the bay window over the sink to see his mother harvesting the last bit of herbs in the matchbox-sized garden. Kelvin knew from experience that the garden would be choked with all sorts of flowers and herbs in the spring. Now it looked dying or dead, bare for the Boston winter. He plucked his coat from the back of the chair and beckoned Andy to come follow.
They went outside, the air brisk and chilly. The light coats they had brought would not stand against a stiff wind chill. His mother was tall like Kelvin, long brown hair pulled back into a French braid that went all the way down her back. She wore a thick plaid chemise jacket, a sweatshirt beneath, jeans and work boots. She pulled up herbs by the roots and put them in a basket at her arm. “Need any help, Mom?” asked Kelvin again.
“No. I’m just getting the last of this basil out. I’ll need them for the tomato sauce.”
“No turkey?” he asked.
“Of course there’s a turkey!” She turned to face him, smiling. She glanced at Andy. “What would Thanksgiving be without a turkey?”
“What are you going to use tomato sauce for?”
“Lasagna. I’m making everything from scratch.”
“Even the cheese?”
“I made that last week. It’s ready to go.”
His mother didn’t have to work, not with his father teaching at MIT. She was an awesome, if eclectic, cook, trying assorted recipes on her kids over the past 30 years. Boring American food was served only on Thanksgiving, and she needed a recipe book for even that.
“Is Mattie coming?” he asked.
“Yes. He’s bringing his newest wife and Layla.”
“He’s on wife number?”
“Three.”
“And Juliet?”
“Boyfriend number fifty. I think this one’s a keeper, though.”
“You said that last year.”
My mother walked up to Andy and, smiling, handed him the basket. “Can you take this?”
“Sure,” he said.
“Let’s go back in. Do you like hot cocoa, Andy?”
“Sure,” he said again.
Kelvin’s mother patted his shoulder. “A man of few words, I see.” She led the way back into the kitchen. After divesting Andy of the basket, she got a hunk of chocolate and grated some into a cup. “So how did you two meet?”
They looked at each other. Kelvin said, “We were working together, and, well, we started seeing each other afterward.”
She suddenly perked her head up. “I think your father’s home, or it might be Mattie.”
Andy let out a breath, glad that someone else was approaching the house. He heard a door close as Kelvin’s mother went out of the kitchen. She left the milk and a pan on the stove, leaving the stove lit. Kelvin shut the stove off.
Andy could see through the kitchen door to the TV room and then the foyer. The door burst open and a little girl in white leotards, a pink tutu with white stockings and ballet slippers came running in. She had blond pigtails on either side of her head. “Grammy!” she yelled, and ran into Kelvin’s mom’s arms.
She bent down and hugged the girl. “Layla!” She straightened and hugged a very tall blond man, tall enough that he had to duck into the room. “Mattie!”
Mattie had a round face like his brother, but was ungainly tall, with long legs, long arms and large hands. His hair was cut short, not very flattering. “Hi, mom. Who else is here?”
Kelvin got up. He stood next to Andy, who pushed away from the table. “Hey, Mattie.”
“Kelvin?” Mattie pushed a little past the girl and his mother, and took two steps, crossing the room into the kitchen. He held out his hand and pulled Kelvin into a hug. “How the hell are you?”
“Good, good. This is my boyfriend, Andy.”
Mattie pulled back from Kelvin, and looked at Andy. Andy felt even smaller than usual next to this giant. Mattie smiled at Andy and held out his hand. “Matthew. Call me Mattie. Everyone in the family does.”
Andy smiled. “Andy.” His hand was swallowed in the big man’s paw.
“Grammy’s got hot chocolate!”
Mattie turned to the little girl. “Layla, this is Andy, Kelvin’s boyfriend.”
Layla curtsied. Andy chuckled and bowed formally. “I’m a ballerina!” she said.
“Do you know how to dance?” Andy asked.
“Uh huh.”
“I can play music and you can dance to it?”
She brightened. “Can I, daddy? Can I?”
Mattie said, “Let’s get our stuff, first. C’mon, we’ve got some bags in the car.”
“I’ll help you,” said Kelvin.
Layla sat down at the kitchen table.
“Where’s Nancy?” asked Kelvin’s mom, turning to put some milk in the pan.
“Nancy’s going to stay home. She said she’s not feeling good.”
Kelvin’s mom frowned. “I was hoping she was going to come.”
“I’m glad she didn’t,” said Layla. “She won’t let me wear my ballerina clothes.”
Kelvin’s mom rustled Layla’s hair while Andy swallowed a chuckle. Layla turned to Andy. “When can you play the music?”
Kelvin’s mom rushed in. “Honey, we’re going to eat and then after, he and Juliet can play something for you to dance to in the music room.”
Andy got apprehensive. That’s what the piano was for. He’d never played accompanying a piano.
Mattie brought in an overnight bag and was talking to Kelvin on the way in. “I think I saw dad,” said Mattie.
