Left-Handed Engineers From MARZ
Christmas at Portia's - Zephyr

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After wading through tension-filled greetings of in-laws, Zephyr finally took shelter in the kitchen. Reg had been right behind him, but then Tammy and Brit gave Reg a shoebox full of odds and ends and begged him to build them toys. Zephyr supposed that Reg had gone off somewhere less cluttered to do his thing. He really should check, but he really needed to sit and calm his nerves and see if Portia had any coffee.

No, Zephyr thought, first he should check on Reg.

In a minute.

Every inch of surface area in the kitchen was covered with dishes and ingredients and utensils. Zephyr removed a used mixing bowl from a chair, balanced it on a stack of plates, and sat down wearily in front of a plate of homemade chocolate candies. One of the things he hated most about holidays was that, immediately after a three-hour drive, he had to deal with his mother. Could she have greeted him with the word, 'Hello?' Or perhaps, 'Great to see you' or 'Glad you could make it.' No, instead she implored him not to ruin the holiday for everyone else this time. Wonderful. The brawl he'd had with George last year was not entirely his fault, and when Reg had disappeared, it was Zephyr's problem more than anyone else's. And the Christmas before that... as far as Zephyr was concerned, the Muellers had set him up for that disaster.

And he was particularly frazzled this time because of the bad weather. He had just known they were going to hydroplane into oncoming traffic and die in a spectacular explosion. They hadn't, but still... they probably came very close. Zephyr couldn't even remember the stretch that skirted the mountains; he must have blacked out again. Maybe Marsh thought he'd been napping.

Portia dashed in and checked the four pots bubbling on the stove. Satisfied, she paused to give Zephyr a long, warm hug. "You look good," she said.

"Hah."

"Rest a minute. Coffee?"

"Yes please," Zephyr said, managing a grateful smile.

Just then Marlone waltzed in, her wide grin exaggerated by bright red lipstick that matched her tight sweater. "That friend of yours is cute!" she told Zephyr. "What's his name? Marshall? A real looker."

"That's nice," Zephyr grumbled.

"Very polite and personable, too." She pulled a cheese log out of the fridge and shifted around some things on the table to make room for it.

Portia gave Marlone a burning glare as she pulled out an onion and a cutting board. "Mom, you've only been married a few months, and you're already ogling other men! Jesus Christ!"

"Now young lady, don't take the Lord's name in vain," Marlone shot back reproachfully, inspiring an amused snort from Portia. "I am not ogling anyone! And I'm obviously not his type. But for someone who is closer to his type, he'd be a real catch."

Marlone gave Zephyr a meaningful look. Zephyr refused to acknowledge it.

Portia burst out laughing. "Holy shit, Mom, you can't be serious! Marsh ain't like that."

"I'm not like that either," Zephyr added. "I don't know if you noticed, but I've already got someone. Why the hell would I be interested in..." he made a face in the direction of the living room to punctuate the thought, "...Marsh?"

"Yeah!" Portia exclaimed. "You can't expect Zephyr to cheat on Reg!"

"Reg, Reg, Reg." Marlone stood over Zephyr and put her hands on his shoulders. "I only want the best for you, Sweetie, and Reg... isn't. He's like a big child. He can't do much of anything for himself. You have to watch him every minute. You're always telling us, 'Don't let Reg do this,' or 'Don't give Reg that.' He's dragging you down, baby. You deserve better."

"God, Ma, that's so fucking low!" Portia exploded. When she called her mother 'Ma', there was trouble brewing, and she looked good and ready for it. Zephyr was happy to let her argue for him. She was much better at it, and the fact that his mother had called him Sweetie and Baby in the same thought had him speechless in itself. It made her sound like she was being affectionate or something, which not only ill-fitted her, but covered up the fact that she was... asking him to break up with Reg. Zephyr choked at the implication. If Portia weren't already launching into strings of obscenities, Zephyr would have done it for her.

When Portia finally paused to take a breath, Marlone shot back, "You go ahead and give me lip, girl, but that doesn't change the fact that at least I care that he's throwing his life away! You act like the good little sister, but truth is you never give a flying fuck if he makes bad choices! And he does make bad choices! He always has! There's gotta be a point when you have to give the people you love a kick in the ass to get them out of their bad choices, and that's what I'm doing, goddammit! I'm not going to sit here anymore and watch Zephyr cling to his bad choice!"

"Reg is NOT a BAD CHOICE!" Portia screamed back. "He's a goddamn fucking human being! WHO are YOU, you self-righteous psycho bitch, to say whether he's good enough? There is NOTHING WRONG with Reg!!"

"There's a LOT wrong with Reg! And you know it! He can't dress himself, he can barely talk... he's like a six-foot-tall child that will never ever grow up! Zephyr's 32 years old and he's still playing house! And what for? Reg will never learn any life skills; he'll never go to college..."

"They fucking MET in college!" Portia countered.

"He has a master's degree," Zephyr offered against his better judgment. Luckily he was ignored.

Portia continued, "He drives, he has a career and an income bigger'n Dan's... for a child, he's a pretty damn successful one."

"But Marsh does all those things too, plus he's intelligent and pleasant and normal and he can take care of himself!" Marlone protested. "I have nothing against Reg personally, but I want to see my son have better. Relationships are supposed to be mutual! What's so mutual about a guy who only exists in his own little world? Especially when there are so many other men out there who can give Zephyr what he's missing, like the one sitting..."

Marlone and Portia paused as Marsh entered the kitchen timidly. They pasted on silly grins with disconcerting suddenness, and Marlone began fussing over Marsh while Portia returned to chopping onions.

Zephyr sighed to himself. His head hurt and his back hurt and he wasn't even going to question the condition of his self-esteem. His mother had been right, he thought, about Reg's inability to hold a conversation. They'd worked hard on that shortcoming together, almost every night, for a couple of years. But success had been limited, and Zephyr had to admit that the issue brought him a certain amount of dissatisfaction.

But nobody was perfect, right? Life was a series of compromises. Reg didn't offer a lot of opportunities in verbal communication, but he made up for it in other areas. He was warm and affectionate and so gentle. And very consistent. He had his own ways to meet Zephyr's needs, and those ways worked, and Zephyr could almost always depend on him to be there when he needed him. And Reg was safe and comfortable. Not much made Zephyr feel comfortable, but when he was stressed and overwhelmed and defeated, he always found time alone with Reg comforting. Reg knew all of his secrets and shared many of them. Even if they couldn't talk about them. But Zephyr had never been able to talk about important things anyway. Talking was a source of stress; a sign of nervousness. It wasn't something he enjoyed, although he did it compulsively. But it wasn't a problem with Reg. They had their own communication methods; quiet, subtle, comfortable methods that Zephyr was reasonably good at. Reg didn't require him to phrase anything just right, because with their methods, phrasing was irrelevant. Reg had his own expectations, but Zephyr found them easy to meet. Certainly easier than anyone else's expectations.

Maybe it was all about expectations. Maybe Marlone's issue was simply that her expectations weren't being met. Zephyr was well aware that what he and Reg had was unusual and difficult to understand. Maybe that was all there was to it.

Damn his mother, he thought. She had no right. It was the same thing she always tried to pull on him; only this time she had gotten better at playing the motherly love angle. Well, this time he was not going to fall for it.

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