Zombies! (Episode 8): The Good, the Bad, and the Zombie Read online

  Deirdre Smith, Greg's wife, had been born and raised in New York. She'd come from a single parent family with four children, including herself. Her mother hadn't been an alcoholic or a drug addict. She hadn't been a prostitute and she hadn't marched an endless parade of boyfriends through their one bedroom apartment while Deirdre was growing up. But as a single parent with four children, she'd had to work three jobs. She was able to spend an average of two hours a week with her children and couldn't afford any sort of daycare. So the kids were taught to lock themselves in the apartment, change their clothing, wash themselves, brush their teeth, and feed themselves all without adult supervision. For Deirdre it had been okay. She'd learned the value of being a parent. For her oldest brother, it hadn't worked out well. The price of freedom was an underdeveloped conscience and a prison sentence that would last well into his nieces' and nephews' adulthoods. The results for her other two siblings were mixed. Her sister was unmarried and wouldn't set down roots. Her younger brother was in and out of jobs and did an awful lot of gambling. They were both decent people, but not particularly stable.

  Through all of this, though, the one thing Greg Smith's parents had focused on was the color of her skin. Deirdre was black and Greg was white. He'd always known it would be a problem. When he'd started seeing her, his friends had all told him to leave it alone or he was going to fracture his family. But Deirdre was not the kind of woman you just leave alone. He'd gone on a couple of dates with her just for fun. He'd never dated a black girl before and was kind of excited about expanding his horizons. But he'd quickly fallen in love with her and that meant he'd had to tell his parents. The reaction was predictable.

  His father thought that he was playing a joke. His mother just sort of locked up. He never knew just how she felt because she never said anything. Anyway, his relationship with his parents became strained. Every time he tried to get them to accept his choice of girlfriend there was a fight. Greg knew that they went to bed every night praying that he would see the error in his ways. Unfortunately, he went on to marry her. And when that had happened, his parents had cut ties with him altogether.

  Greg and Deirdre had been married almost five years when the phone call from his mother came those three days before Christmas. They had two little girls, Kala and June. Kala had turned three in October while June wasn't even a year yet. Greg's parents had never met them. Deirdre's mom had worked herself to death and she never spoke about her father. Ever.

  "What's changed, Ma?" Greg asked.

  "We have," she answered. "At least, our perspective has."

  He couldn't give her an answer right then and there. He needed to discuss it with Deirdre first. After all, his job took up a lot of his time. He'd have Christmas Eve and Christmas Day; he'd made sure of that. But he'd be working for most of the rest of the visit leaving his wife with the bigoted people who'd refused even to meet her.

  He told her about the phone call that night before they went to sleep. She was paging through some book on her electronic tablet and he interrupted her. While he told her, she appeared not to pay even the slightest bit of attention to him. Even when he finished speaking, she didn't acknowledge him. This was a mannerism of hers that had infuriated him after they'd married. By now, though, he was used to it and knew to simply wait until she was ready to answer.

  "They're your parents, Greg," she said to him. "If they're willing to give me a chance, then I suppose I owe it you to do the same."

  From his point of view, she didn't owe him anything. From his point of view, she was well within her rights to tell him that she didn't want to meet them nor did she want her children exposed to their racist attitude. But she didn't. And he found, much to his own surprise, that he was elated. He was getting his parents back. That didn't happen every day.

  With a quick kiss on the lips, he leapt out of bed and went down the stairs to make the phone call. His mother answered and sounded even happier than he felt. She gave him her flight information, which he scribbled on the back of an envelope. When he hung up the phone, he couldn't sleep, so he turned on the TV, checked out some of the on demand stuff and found a movie he hadn't seen since he was a kid. It was blast from the past night at the Smith house. And Greg Smith was loving it.

  ***

  Gwen and Hank Smith got off the plane at LaGuardia International Airport, took their stops at the bathroom, and proceeded to baggage claim. Greg was there to meet them, shifting nervously on both feet. It had been more than five years since he'd seen his parents. The only communication they'd had was via email and even that was infrequent and only with his mother. They looked much the same as he remembered. His dad was a bit more grey and maybe a bit fatter. But his mother was still this trim and fit woman. There were lines on her face now and he could see that she struggled to get her hair to do what it had always done. But she kept herself well. They didn't see him at first and he didn't quite know what to do. He just stood there for a minute, frozen in indecision. Then his mother caught sight of him and the sun rose over her face. She thrust her carry-on bag into Hank's arms and rushed forward. By the time she cleared the distance between them, Greg had his arms open and she fell into his embrace. He was taller than she was. Of course, he'd been taller than she for a long time. But it didn't stop him from burying his face in her neck the way he had as a child. He could smell her hair and a wave of nostalgia crashed over him. She was crying.

  When they pulled away, Greg's eyes were glazed over as well. His father had come up in the interim and stood by awkwardly. Greg looked him up and down, sizing up the measure of the old man. First they shook hands, like men do. Then they shared a hesitant and, frankly, tense hug. Finally, they found their places at the baggage carousel and waited for the luggage to arrive.

  During the ride back to Greg's house in Brooklyn, Gwen spoke about all of the things that had been happening over the past five years. She caught him up on people he hadn't heard from in a long time. Normally, he wouldn't have cared so much. It may have sounded harsh, but he just didn't have time for people who weren't a regular part of his life. Of course, up until a few minutes before, his parents had been among those people. And right now, anything that brought him home was good.

  As they neared the house, he began to grow apprehensive. He wasn't sure if it showed; he hoped not. The meeting between his parents and Deirdre was half a decade overdue. He didn't know exactly how his wife would react to his parents nor how they would react to her. In his mother, he had faith. Behind the scenes, it was she who had engineered this whole reunion. Of that he was sure. Gwen Smith wouldn't reestablish contact only to throw it away by insulting her son's wife. His father, on the other hand, was a different story. Greg had no doubt that Hank planned on giving Deirdre a fair chance. But he was a judgmental man and he would preside over the next few hours like a supreme justice viewing an important case. That particular attitude might not sit well with Deirdre. The possibilities gave Greg stomach cramps.

  Greg's was one of three houses on the block to have a driveway. He pulled into it and got out of the car. He was trying to control his breathing and his nerves and not doing so well. The anxiety, he could see, had spread to his parents as well. Gwen was fidgeting nervously with her fingers and Hank was stiff as a board. In an effort to dispel his own crumbling resolve, he put himself to work unloading the baggage from the trunk. As he was putting one bag on the floor, he heard the storm door open and shut. Someone had come out.

  Heart beating in his throat, he peeked out from behind the car to see Kala walking toward them. Kala was light skinned, more like him than his wife. The genetic combination had made her hair almost unmanageable. Deirdre did some great things with it but this was a kid who was going to blame her parents for what would be an undeserving number of bad hair days. She'd put on her pink Dora the Explorer jacket and hat. She was looking at Gwen and Hank, who stared dumbly back at her. Kala was not a shy kid. She would talk to anyone and Greg and Deirdre had spent the day before explaining about grandparent
s. This would be her first experience with them.

  Finally, her decision made, Kala went right up to Hank. Her head barely reached to his waste and she tilted it up to look into his face. Smokey breath billowed from his nostrils. To Greg he looked like a dragon whose rage was on the verge of being awakened.

  "Are you my grandpa?" she asked him.

  Dumbly, he nodded.

  "My name's Kala. Can I hug you?" she asked, raising her arms.

  Unsure of what to do, he looked over at Gwen, who practically took off while flapping her arms in encouragement. So he reached down and scooped the child into his arms and hugged her close. He kept his eyes tightly shut as he did so, afraid for anyone to see the tears.

  When Greg and Gwenn finally looked away, they saw that Deirdre had also come out of the house. She was standing on the front stoop balancing June on her hip. The look on her face was undefinable. She seemed both overjoyed and protective at the same time. It was as if she believed that Hank's affection for the child was just a front for the hate he felt inside.

  "Mrs. Smith?" she said, approaching Gwen. It felt funny for her to say it. After all, they were really both Mrs. Smith.

  Gwenn turned away from Hank, who wasn't letting go of the child, and seemed startled by the nearness of Deirdre. "Oh, my God, Deirdre, you have to call me Gwenn."

  "And you'll call me Dee, just like everyone else."

  Gwenn smiled, leaning in toward the baby in Deirdre's arms. "This is June?"

  June, very different from her sister, turned her head away, burying her face in her mother's shoulder.

  "It's okay," Deirdre said to her daughter. "This is your grandma."

  Greg came forward, rolling two bags behind him. He kissed Deirdre once and then headed for the house. "It's freezing out here," he said, and then disappeared inside.

  It would be inaccurate to say that that was all it took. Deirdre was still wary of Greg's parents. June, maybe sensing her mother's trepidation, wouldn't go to either of them. Kala played with both of her grandparents but even she was more subdued than normal. They made small talk in the living room while the dinner was cooking. Most of it involved catching up. They tried to bring Deirdre in on the conversation by explaining some of the details. She'd heard some of the stories from Greg over the years and just nodded when others came up. Most of all, though, she could see that Greg was happy and relaxed. It meant a lot for him to have his children playing with his parents and if anything was going to screw it up it wouldn't be Deirdre. Greg's work was far too stressful and this kind of opportunity did wonders to lessen the burden.

  They ate a nice Christmas Eve dinner of lemon trout and stewed potatoes. It was one of the myriad recipes that Deirdre had picked up from watching the cooking channel late at night. Greg loved to eat so he never complained about her television habit. Whatever put a spectacular meal on the table was worth the price of going to bed alone some nights.

  After the meal, Hank looked up from his plate, right at Deirdre, and said. "Truly fantastic, Dee. Thanks so much."

  It was a unique compliment from Hank Smith and not one he would have made insincerely. Food was a special thing to all of the Smith men. If they didn't like a meal, the best you could hope for was that they would say nothing. Deirdre was well aware of this and blushed at the compliment.

  Later on they put the kids to sleep, placed their presents around the tree, and sat in the living room. Gwenn teased Greg about not having roasted chestnuts and Deirdre started to laugh hysterically. During their first Christmas together, she'd gone all out with the preparations. At that time, Greg had been brooding over not having Christmas with his parents so she had wanted to make it special. Well, when he'd walked into the house and smelled the chestnuts roasting, he'd gone straight to the oven, pulled them out, and thrown them in the garbage. After throwing the bag into the can outside, he'd proceeded to spray every room in the house with air freshener while Deirdre had stood by dumbfounded. She told this story throughout fits of laughter and Gwenn began to laugh as well. Hank, far more reserved, still managed to smile and wink at his son, who was both prideful and embarrassed.

  "Why did you do that, Greg?" Gwenn taunted him.

  "Mom, please."

  "Oh, come on, Greg," Deirdre joined in. "Tell us why we can't have roasted chestnuts in the house."

  He sighed. "I don't like the smell."

  "He's gotten reserved over the years, Dee," Gwenn said.

  But she shook her head. "Tell us what they smell like, Greg."

  He sighed again and recited, "It's what it smells like when a fart throws up."

  They burst into tears again. This time his father even joined in.

  ***

  That night, as they got into bed, Greg turned to Deirdre and gave her a long kiss on the mouth. "Thank you. I know how hard it must have been."

  "You have no idea how hard it was," she said to him, though not resentfully. "But if you want me to forgive them, then I will."

  "I want you to forgive them," he said to her. "Not because I miss them or because I think the children should have grandparents. I mean, I do and they should, but that's not why. I want you to forgive them for the same reason I forgive them. I think they're sincere. My dad especially. I'm sure it's tough for you to see it because you don't know him, but I think he's put aside all of his petty racist bullshit."

  "How do you know?" she asked. "How do you know they won't try to sabotage us?" It really was a terrible thing to ask and she knew it. Even had she suspected it, she should have kept it to herself.

  "They couldn't if they tried," Greg said. "I chose you over them years ago and I don't regret that choice. But I watched my dad tonight, the way he was looking at me and at the kids and at you."

  "And what did you see?"

  Greg smiled a small smile. "I saw pride. He wasn't judging us at all. He was just proud of our family and happy that we'd let him back in."

  She thought about what he'd said and finally nodded. Like he said, she didn't know Hank and Gwen and she wasn't able to see the things Greg said he was seeing. But she knew him and she knew that he wouldn't lie to her. She also knew that if it came down to choosing once again, he really would choose her again. That made her feel lucky and secure. And that was all that she needed.

  ***

  Kala was still too young to be terribly excited about Christmas Day. At least, she wasn't excited enough to lie awake all night and drag her parents out of bed at four o'clock in the morning. Still, she never slept past seven anyway. She padded into Greg and Deirdre's bedroom and tugged on her dad's t-shirt. It took a couple of minutes and an adjustment to the strength applied to the tugging, but he finally grumbled to her.

  "Daddy," she said. "Daddy!"

  "What is it, sunshine?"

  "I want to watch TV."

  Breathing out his sleep, he struggled to a sitting position and lifted the child onto his lap.

  "Are there presents?"

  He laughed and elbowed his wife. "Dee, wake up. Kala wants to know if there are presents."

  "All mommy wants for Christmas is to sleep late."

  They both got out of bed and went to check on June. She was still asleep, a minor miracle, so they left her. It wouldn't be fair to make Kala wait.

  Gwenn and Hank were already up and coffee was made. Gwenn had the frying pans on the stove but had waited for breakfast orders before starting to cook. She also wanted permission from the woman of the house before doing so.

  Deirdre let out a snort of laughter. "Be my guest."

  Under the tree was a wealth of gifts for two small children. There were also several new gifts for the children and for Greg and Deirdre. Apparently, Santa Claus really had come for a visit. As Kala ripped into her first gift, the sound of tearing paper was accompanied by the wailing of a small child upstairs. Putting down the present that he was about to open, Greg got up from the couch and went to get June. While he was upstairs, there was an awkward silence between Deirdre and his parents. It went compl
etely unnoticed by Kala who squealed every time she opened up a new toy that was just what she wanted.