Cowboy Baby Daddy

“Why are you here?” I asked, once I’d taken their coats and hung them in KO’s hall closet. My mother was examining the living room with a critical eye while my father had settled himself as far away from Howard as he could.

“It’s certainly not for a social visit, Emily,” my mother sniffed. “But it’s nice of you to ask. We’re here to see what happened to the house and find out why you didn’t see fit to tell us about the fire. We had to hear about it from our friends on the Waltham City Council. What were you thinking, Emily? Do you have any idea how embarrassing that was for us?”

“I’m sorry,” I said, looking down at the floor and feeling like I was a child again. “I didn’t mean to keep you out of the loop. I’ve just been busy trying to get the insurance claim filed and find a new place to live.”

“Your mother has been all out of sorts about this, Emily,” my father said, looking disdainfully around KO’s living room. “If you couldn’t afford a proper place to live, you really should have called. We would have paid for better quarters.”

“I know, Daddy,” I nodded, feeling ashamed and angry at the same time. I hated the way my parents could apply just enough guilt to make me crumble. “I said I’m sorry. I just wanted to take care of it myself.”

“Very well, what’s done is done,” my mother said, trying to sound magnanimous. “But you never sent me a thank you note for the present I sent you for Christmas.”

“I’m sorry, Mother,” I said quietly. “It got burned up in the fire.”

“My God, Emily, must you always be so careless?” she exclaimed. “The very least you could do would be to acknowledge the gift was received. I swear, it’s like throwing money down a well with you.”

I could feel my throat beginning to constrict as the tears formed in the corner of my eyes. I was angry at her for making this whole situation worse by scolding me for a breach of manners, and yet I also knew she was right. I should have written the note.

“I’m sorry, Mother,” I said. “It was a mistake.”

“Indeed it was, I’m glad you can acknowledge that much,” my mother sighed. “I’m not sure where I went wrong with you. Your sister turned out so well and you, well, you are a disappointment on so many levels, Emily.”

“Why are you saying this to me?” I cried. “Why did you even come visit? If you wanted to torture me, you could have done it over the phone and with a lot less hassle for all of us!”

“Oh goodness, don’t go getting so dramatic, Emily,” my mother said, as she rolled her eyes and laughed uncomfortably. “We came to see how you were doing and if you needed anything.”

“I need to not be tormented by you!” I spat.

“Emily, do not speak to your mother in that tone of voice,” my father warned. “I’ll not have it.”

“Then tell her not to bait me!” I protested. I had completely reverted to child mode now and was anxious to get away from the two of them. I hadn’t seen them in several years, and time had softened the edges of our conflicted relationship, but now the sharp angles and jagged lines of everything that had gone on between us reasserted themselves and reminded me why I kept my distance.

“Emily Jean Fowler, get a hold of yourself!” my mother scolded. Howard hopped off the couch and stalked over to where my mother stood staring out the front window. I watched as he gave her a cold stare and then swiped his claw across her ankle. “Ouch! You little beast!”

My mother pulled her foot back as if she were preparing to kick the cat, but I swooped in and scooped him up off the floor, holding him in my arms as we both watched her examine the scratches.

“That cat is a beast,” my mother said angrily. “You ought to have him put down.”

Howard’s growl began as a low rumble, and I knew that no good would come of it, so I walked back to the bedroom and put him on the bed.

“Stay here while I get rid of the beasts in the front room,” I said, without humor. Howard blinked once as if to acknowledge our shared disdain, and then curled up on my pillow with a watchful eye on the door.

“Mother, Daddy,” I began, as I entered the living room. “I’m sorry you came all this way for nothing. I don’t—”

There was a knock at the door, and when I opened it, I was both relieved and dismayed to find Blake on the other side. I regretted not having explained my family situation to him, but I also knew that it most likely would have been the kiss of death to our budding romance. Now, I had no choice but to deal with it. I just hoped he’d forgive me later.

“Blake,” I said, giving him a weak smile. “Just in time to meet my parents. Blake Gaston, this is my mother, Charlotte Fowler, and my father, William. Mother and Daddy, this is Blake Gaston.”

“You’re dating someone?” my mother sniffed, as she looked Blake up and down.

“It’s so nice to meet you, too, Mrs. Fowler,” Blake smiled, as he extended his hand. My mother gave him a limp shake and a smile that did not reach her eyes. Blake turned to my father and did the same. “Mr. Fowler, it’s nice to meet you.”

My father started at the offered hand and then asked, “Are you on the faculty at Waltham University?”

“No, I’m a firefighter with the Waltham FD,” Blake replied.

“Oh, I see,” my father said, with obvious disdain.

“I’m sorry, sir, is there a problem?” Blake asked, as he shot me a confused look.