Rock and a Hard Place

chapter 17

“Pass the gravy, would ya buddy,” Peter said to his young cousin Ryan.

They’d gathered around the Thanksgiving table with the large extended family. Peter wondered about Libby stuck with her crazy aunt. He doubted a turkey dinner was involved. Al he could picture was her alone thinking he dumped her. He tried to cal her using another phone, but the a*shole, Garrett, had canceled the cel service to her number. Now Peter had to wait until the next day to get Libby’s service reinstated and to replace his phone.

“This one’s empty.” Ryan looked up at him with angelic eyes.

“Here, Peter. There’s plenty in this bowl.” Carly, his Uncle Steve’s stepdaughter, offered another bowl of steaming turkey gravy. She delivered a coy smile and al but batted her eyes. Peter pretended not to notice. He didn’t want to encourage her.

Determined to bury his worry about Libby, he stuffed himself with food. Usualy he loved Thanksgiving, but this year, the gathering of twenty odd people was more than he could handle. He took the bowl from Carly’s eager hands. “Thanks.” He forced a smile and ladled the rich gravy over his second helping of turkey, stuffing and cheesy potato casserole, turning the contents on his plate into a thick stew.

“Where does he put al that food?” Grandma Jamieson commented, looking at his mounded plate. Peter smiled at Grandma and shoveled in another mouthful.

His mother looked at him warmly. “Ever since Peter turned fourteen, he’s always eating; and he runs everyday, so that boosts his appetite even more. It’s near impossible to keep these boys fed.”

Peter responded with a black look. He didn’t feel like making nice with his family. They stil seemed like traitors.

“I can’t imagine your grocery bil,” Becky, Uncle Steve’s new wife, commented. “My Carly eats like a little bird. I swear she forgets to eat some days.” Aunt Becky bragged about her daughter’s ultra skinny body. The girl wore her clothes so tight they left little to the imagination. Carly took a tiny bite of green bean and feigned embarrassment.

“Girls are too skinny these days,” Grandma said. “Look like they could blow away in a strong wind.”

At the other end of the table Garrett sat next to Uncle Steve, Mom’s cool older brother, who always drove hot cars and dated even hotter women. Aunt Becky finaly landed him last spring and became his second wife. She could pass for under thirty, but Carly was seventeen, so it wasn’t likely.

“Now that we’ve inhaled most of this meal, who wants to start with their thanks?” his mom asked. Every year she forced them to participate in this ritual. Peter and his brothers groaned, while Carly glanced around the table, confused at the mention of this unknown tradition.

His mother eyed them. “Boys, you disappoint me. This year, more than any other, we have so much to be thankful for.” Peter scraped potatoes from the side of his plate and stuffed his mouth. He looked directly at his mother and shrugged.

“Fine. I’l start.” She wiped the corners of her mouth with a linen napkin then set it aside. “I am thankful for the amazing doctors and medical staff at Cedars-Sinai.” She reached out and took her husband’s hand. “Without their dedication and talent, I might have lost you.” She gazed at his dad; tears weled in her eyes.

“And I thought you were going to say you were thankful to get a few days freedom while I was in the hospital,” his father said.

His mother shot him a wry expression.

“I’m thankful we get to go swimming after dinner,” Ryan chirped in.

“But not until half an hour after dinner,” Grandma said.

“Aw,” Ryan responded.

“Mom, that’s an old wives’ tale. Leave the kid alone,” Uncle Steve said.

“Nonsense. If the rule kept you alive al these years, it obviously works.”

“I’m thankful for video games,” Ela, Ryan’s older sister, offered, successfuly getting the conversation back on track.

Each person in turn offered up something to be thankful for.

Next came Garrett.

“I’m thankful, Peter’s got such a weak left hook.” He rubbed his bruised cheekbone for effect.

Their mother pierced Garrett with a powerful stare. Carly looked from Peter to Garrett and back again, intrigued. Peter set his fork down, his jaw clenched. He’d love to slug him again. The a*shole deserved it and much more.

“What are you thankful for Peter?” Grandma asked, oblivious to the tension between the two brothers.

Peter looked from Garrett to his father and mother.

“Absolutely nothing.” He controled his anger. He didn’t want to upset Grandma.

“Peter,” his father warned. “We al have something to be thankful for. Try that again.”

Inside he fumed. He was thankful to have Libby, but then Garrett derailed that and he stil hadn’t been able to get a hold of her. They’d tracked down her aunt’s phone number, but there was no answer. Al he could think about was his need to talk to her and clear everything up. He wanted Libby with him. Other than that he only felt anger; anger at his family’s interference, anger at being stuck in this fake happy holiday celebration and anger at the clueless girl sitting next to him star struck over his every word.

Al eyes focused on him, including his father’s.

“Al right. What am I thankful for? Let’s see. I could say our sold out tour or our platinum album, but no, that’s pretty shalow.” He gave a pointed look at each of his brothers and his parents. He thought of Libby and how alone she must feel. “I’m thankful to have a family I can be mad at. Even though they make my life a living hel, at least they exist.” His words were clipped and short. “Because if I didn’t have a family, I’d be al alone in the world. Can you imagine how lonely and difficult a life would be if I didn’t have Mom always hovering or Dad caring enough to stay on our asses, or brothers to piss off and fight with?”

Peter set a defiant stare at his parents driving home the sad reality of Libby’s life. His mother looked down at her plate.

“That’s enough,” his father said. A silent void filed the room as the relatives shared uncomfortable looks. “Why don’t you make yourself useful. There are a lot of dishes on this table that need washing. Perhaps that’l help clear your head.” The guests watched the awkward battle. His young cousins looked confused.

“Fine with me.” Peter shoved back from the table, grabbed his dishes and went to the kitchen.

“I’l help you.” Carly popped up and chased after him.



# # #

Peter’s waterlogged hands sank deep into their third round of dishes. Now it was the serving pieces. Despite his pleas to be left alone, Carly stuck with him and dried every piece. Stacks of clean, dried china and silverware lay as evidence of their work.

“What did I do to make you hate me?” She leaned against the kitchen counter, an irritated expression on her face.

“Huh?” Peter looked up from the dishwater.

“I’ve been trying to talk to you al day and you treat me like I’m diseased. What’d I ever do to you?” She folded her arms across her chest, the damp dishtowel in hand.

“Nothing. Sorry. I’ve just got a lot on my mind.” He turned back to his sulking and dunked another serving bowl.

“Guys can be such jerks. Steve said you were realy nice, but I think he must have been talking about Garrett.” Peter’s head snapped around, he eyed her closely. “That’s a good one.” He fought the smile that threatened. She’d been trying to crack his defenses al day and had saved him a ton of work by helping out. The least he could do was be nice.

“What’s got you so pissed?”

Peter glanced at her, an eyebrow raised.

“Helo, you’ve been brooding al day and your little speech in there just proves you’ve got major attitude. You mad you got stuck with family al day?”

“I’m stuck with family every day. Today’s better than most.

With more people around, it helps distract them.” He rinsed another platter and placed it with the mounting pile of china stacked in the drainer. “You’re faling behind.” He pointed to the waiting dishes.

Carly glared at him, then resumed her chore. After that Peter finaly alowed himself a smile. He found it easier to be nice to Carly. He joined in the conversation and they talked about their favorite movies, what music they most recently downloaded and their dream cars. As Peter refiled the sink, Carly placed another plate with the huge pile of clean dishes on the island counter.

“God there’s a lot of dishes. Your dad is nasty to make you do al this.”

“Yeah, Jett’s real good at doling out punishment.”

“What do you do for fun around here?” Carly asked.

“Oh, I don’t know.” With the faucet on, Peter grabbed the spray hose and turned it on her. Carly shrieked in surprise and tried to block his water assault with the platter in her hands. He shot the spray across the room as she tried to dodge it. By the time they were done, both were laughing from the water fight and Carly’s skiled towel snapping. He ended up having a good time despite himself.

And after al, Carly was pretty cute.



# # #

Karen Jamieson’s heart warmed as she watched Peter play cards at the table with al the kids. Up until this afternoon he’d been angry and sad. It hurt to see him so heartbroken after Garrett’s little stunt. While she wasn’t exactly proud of what Garrett had done, she wanted the best for Peter and thought it better for him to move on. Clearly, Peter didn’t agree.

“Take that!” Peter slapped his last card on the pile and won the hand.

Carly sat next to him soaking in his every word. She glowed each time Peter looked her way. Her brother’s stepdaughter did a great job of distracting Peter. The timing couldn’t be better. Libby seemed like a nice girl, but her situation was complicated. Perhaps Carly could help him forget her. Peter grinned at Carly again.

Karen’s hopes inched up another notch.

“Ready for pie?” she asked. Hungry voices cheered. How these kids could be hungry again so soon amazed her. “It’s ready in the kitchen. You can join the adults in the living room.” The mob of kids bustled past; Peter and Carly shared a joke as they walked by.

Fifteen minutes later everyone sat in the great room. The huge room overflowed with comfortable furniture and oversized potted plants; a baby grand stood in one corner. The boys often used the room to practice or just sit and play whatever instrument they were in the mood for. She loved listening to their music. It amazed her to have such gifted sons. On one side of the room Adam’s camera sat on a tripod waiting for the traditional family photos.

“Peter, would you play something for me? It’s been so long.” Karen’s aging mother-in-law asked.

“Sure, Grandma.” Peter said from his seat next to Carly. He stood and placed his empty plate on the coffee table. He smiled at Carly as he stretched his fingers. Carly looked pleased.

Peter sat behind the piano. “What would you like to hear?”

“How about something new? Are you working on anything?”

“Mom, Peter is always working on something new. The kid can’t seem to turn his writing off.” Jett shared a proud glance with her.

“Al right, play something pretty for me.” Grandma said.

Peter rewarded her with a loving smile. The two of them always shared a special connection. Karen recaled when she was in the hospital delivering Adam several weeks too early. Tiny Adam stayed in the hospital for more than a week while Jett’s parents took care of Garrett and Peter. During that time four-year-old Garrett watched television and played outside with neighbor kids.

Peter, however, stuck by his Grandmother’s side. If she worked in her flowerbeds, three-year-old Peter was with her. When she did laundry and made beds, little Peter tried to help, chattering away.

He loved to help her make cookies and insisted that Grandma teach him the piano. When they picked him up, the young boy already mastered Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star.

Peter drew in a breath and released it. He looked thoughtful for a moment then began to play. At first his fingers barely touched the keys. A beautiful melody rose from the piano. The room quieted as he artfuly mastered the instrument.

Karen watched him transform before her. He became one with the music, and it warmed her soul. His body moved gently as he played, lost to the world around him. She recognized the tune, but couldn’t place it. It wasn’t from anything they’d ever recorded or practiced together, yet the tender piece touched her with its beauty and the loving way he performed.

Even the young kids in the room snuggled in with their parents as Peter’s playing built in strength and power. His hands moved over the keyboard effortlessly. The instrument became an extension of him. Grandma watched and listened, pride beaming on her aged face. Karen noticed Carly sitting alone on the love seat in obvious awe.

When Karen looked at Peter again, sadness filed his eyes.

Now she recognized the melody. This was the song he wrote for Libby, “Angel Kisses”. The energy of the music intensified as the angst of the tune built and Peter laid bare his broken heart. Karen bit the edge of her lip. Music is what feelings sound like. As she watched her beautiful son, she could see how deeply he loved Libby and that every note of music written was for her.

She glanced at her husband who shared a concerned look.

This was no simple crush that would easily pass. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to get Peter together with Libby for just a day before they left for Europe.

The beautiful music slowed and returned to the beginning melody. Peter’s emotion filed the room. He was a master at moving an audience. When his long fingers struck the final chord, his head dropped to his chest. First the room echoed in silence, and then burst with applause.

Peter reached up and brushed away a single tear.

Little Ryan turned to him mother. “Why’s Peter crying?” he asked.

Carly looked despondent on the love seat, her joy and awe, replaced by reality.

Peter’s heart was already taken.