Like Mother Like Son Ch. 04

As he walked into the living room, he could hear them. Izzy was chattering away nonstop, as usual. The little girl was stomping on some wrapping paper as his mother attempted to wrap the gift, which was nearly as tall as his petite sister. He tried to make his way around the couch without being noticed, but of course Izzy saw him.

"Gabe! Gabe! Look! You have to see what we got her! Becky's gonna love it!"

"Let me guess, it's pink?" He questioned, still slowly walking away, and only sparing his younger sister a glance over his shoulder.

"Gabriel, I need your help for a minute," his mother breathed, pushing roughly at the strands of hair that had fallen in her face.

He stopped, back stiffening as he contemplated his options. He sighed, knowing that no matter what he did, she would find some way to get at him. He turned and went over to them, not bothering to hide his irritation.

"Hold that," his mother ordered, gesturing with a hand to a particular spot. He held it with his fingers, bending over rather than kneeling, as he wasn't keen on staying long. She began fiddling with the tape, eyes flicking to Izzy, who was tearing at some scraps of paper and making a mess of the floor.

"Izzy!" she said sharply, quick enough and loud enough that the little girl jumped. Izzy had enough sense to look intimidated, and she left the paper alone, though she stuck her tongue out at her brother as though it would somehow make all the difference.

Gabriel was too distracted by his mother's attire as she carefully folded and arranged the glittering paper, to bother saying anything to Izzy. She was wearing a black t-shirt that was far too tight across the chest, then looser as it neared her hips. It was that thin, soft material, clingy enough that even with a bra, he could see that her nipples were hard underneath. The thermostat was set too low, enough that he almost had the urge to shiver. Izzy was prancing around them in her lacy, pink dress, stopping every so often to twirl.

"I didn't know you could wrap a present," he said, surprised he was even making conversation.

"David forgot," she said by way of explanation, shaking her head almost imperceptibly as Izzy started loudly talking to Wilber or William or whatever the fuck that horse's name was. It was walking around on the hardwood floor stiffly, its mechanical joints grinding and popping.

Gabriel couldn't remember a year when his father hadn't wrapped the Christmas presents, or anything else, for that matter. It wasn't something he associated with his mom. She looked strangely domestic in her jeans and t-shirt, trying to perfect every fold that she made. She was being ridiculously careful about it, in a way that might have made him laugh if it was anybody else.

"Being kind of anal about it, aren't you?" he commented, unable to keep his silence.

"I can't stand it when they're not even." He only raised an eyebrow at her, remembering that he was supposed to be pissed at her. Instead he felt frighteningly numb and complacent about it, as though he had expected it all along and the words she had spoken hadn't truly been a revelation at all.

When it was done, he stepped back to admire it. It was strangely picturesque for a present. Even with its garish colors and glitter, the bow was straight and tidy, the folds crisp. Meanwhile, his sister was messing with the supplies again, yanking on bits of ribbon. Izzy threw a spool of purple ribbon at him, smacking him on the shoulder and pulling him from his reverie.

"Ha! Got you!" she squealed, running away to hide behind the safety of the couch. She had left a trail of destruction in her wake when her mother hadn't been looking. Claire took a deep breath, closing her eyes for a second, as though she was gathering the willpower not to scream.

"Izzy, come clean up your mess. Now." Her tone brooked no argument, and her young daughter popped her head around the arm of the couch, looking dejected.

"Why can't Gabe clean it?" Gabriel glared at her, which was enough to make the little girl cower behind the furniture again.

"It's not his mess to clean. Get over here and pick it up."

Izzy didn't need to be told again, scurrying out from her hiding place to sloppily return all the spools to their box. Gabriel only smirked at her, somewhat surprised that he hadn't gotten roped into cleaning it. He couldn't remember how many times it had happened before, where Izzy had made a disaster and he was forced to play some part in setting things to rights. The little girl was a spoiled brat, and he couldn't understand how his mother tolerated it when she was so abundantly short-tempered as it was.

"I'm taking Izzy to her party. David will pick her up and be home later," she instructed her son, picking up the immense present to lug it off to the car. Gabriel made no move to help her.

"Where are you going?" he asked, narrowing his eyes.

"My editor called," she answered curtly. "I'll be gone until late.

Gabriel only nodded, deciding it was more than time for him to rest for a few hours anyway. It would be easier for him to relax without her around for awhile. Truthfully, she wasn't exactly the person he wanted to see at the moment. He also wasn't surprised his mother wasn't going to stay at the party; he could hardly imagine such a thing. As far as he had seen, her relationship with the mothers of Izzy's friends was tenuous at best. In fact, he could recall times he had seen her border on frosty with them.

As a kid, he had lost a few friendships because of his mother. She had been different then, so scathing toward his choice of companions that they often never returned to his house. He suspected some of them had told their parents, which is why his friends had ended up being so distant with him back at school. Parents didn't want their children spending time with a boy who had a cruel mother. The thought made him smile bitterly in the empty entryway. Izzy should consider herself lucky that their mother had toned down since then, at least in that one respect.

He could hear the car pulling away, and he watched it listlessly from the window, letting out a well-earned yawn. His hands were still shaking, and he had a feeling that sleep would be difficult to achieve. He unzipped his sweatshirt and flung it into his chair. He figured he would lay in bed for an hour before he would get anywhere, but he was too moody to deny himself the opportunity.

Gabriel had been too distracted to notice the gold key that had been left on his desk for him to find. It was half-buried under a discarded binder, its surface abused to the point that its metal was cloudy and dull.