“Sharon and Eric are in the living room with your dad. Supper’s ready,” Joyce said. “I’ll just call them in.” Walter, who hadn’t moved from the table, had a game of Solitaire spread out in front of him. He flipped a card and looked up.
Adam handed Carrie a glass of iced tea. It was filled so full that she worried her unsteady hands would spill it all over him. She took it just as he said, “Sorry to have to go so quickly, but I have a few things to work on that I have to get done if I’m going to take time off at Christmas. I’m gonna eat my supper in the office.”
The look on Joyce’s face—that loving smile she’d seen—withered into disappointment, her mouth turning down, her hands dropping by her sides. Carrie watched her chest rise as she took in a slow, deep breath. She’d seen a look like that before once on her own mother’s face. When she was sixteen, she’d told her mother that she was going to her friend’s house to study, but she really went to see her boyfriend. What she hadn’t anticipated was that her friend was away for the weekend and hadn’t returned her mother’s calls, so, when Carrie got home, her mother had that same look on her face—she was saddened, defeated, her reality changed. That was the only time she’d ever lied to her mother, and she never did it again. That look was still burned into her memory, and to this day, she felt remorse for having upset her mother. Adam didn’t seem to have that response at all, even though he’d clearly let Joyce down. His face was empty of emotion, matter-of-fact, unaffected.
“We have come a long way to see you, Adam,” Joyce said. “I would appreciate it if you would eat supper with us at least.”
“I told you not to come before the twenty-first. I’m not trying to be rude, I just don’t have the time…”
“I know that’s what you told us.” She walked closer, looking up at him to make eye contact. “I just thought you may feel differently once we were all here.”
Carrie took a step back, leaving the two of them still facing each other, their expressions set, their eyes on one another like some sort of standoff. Carrie was glad that Joyce was finally bringing to light all the thoughts Carrie herself had had regarding his absence.
“Do you think I can just not work?” he said. “That it’s something I can put down any time that I choose? There’s no one else to run the brewery but me. I can barely take the four days off that I have. Do you know how busy this time of year is?”
“You don’t want to stop working. The brewery has been very successful for you, and you love the success, even more than your family. That’s what I think.”
Carrie saw irritation on Adam’s face, near anger. “What do you know, Mom?” he snapped, but then he shrunk back, realizing the tone he’d just displayed. Carrie’s family had similar values to Adam’s, and the one golden rule in her household was never to talk back to one’s mother—it was a show of the very worst manners. It was clear by the way he recoiled that the rule was engrained in Adam as well. So for him to go against his mannerly inclination and say such a thing showed that Joyce had hit a nerve.
“What do I know?” Joyce’s head was turned to the side, her eyes clapped on him, steadfast. “I know that your marriage was a disaster. I know that you have no relationship with your own children. I know that you can’t relate to any of us anymore because the only people you ever socialize with are from work. We all represent your failures—your marriage was a mess and you got hurt unbelievably in the process; your connection with your children is a failure because you work so much you don’t know how to relate to them; and your relationship with your family has failed—I think that’s why you threw yourself into your work; you barely spend time with any of us. Especially Sharon.” Joyce blinked to clear tears that were forming. More softly, she said, “I know you’re great at work and I’m proud of you for what you’ve achieved. I know how much you like to be successful at things. But you have to try to be better with everything else, including the things that don’t come as easily for you.”
“You don’t understand,” he said, his face like stone. Carrie had never seen him so closed off before. What his mother had just said had bothered him, she could tell, and this ruthless, stubborn Adam was quite intimidating, a stark contrast to the gentle person she’d seen. “I have worked my entire life for what I have right now,” he said, his voice now more controlled. “I’m not going to give this up. I’ve worked too hard for it, and—that’s right—It’s what I love to do.”