Free Cocoon by Emily Sue Harvey

Barth, Zoe was not mollified.
    Seana pushed away the troubling thoughts and focused on Barth and Peyton securing the tree on its stand, still struggling with the sheer bulk of it, amid much laughter and silly jokes about imagined hernias.
    After Peyton left, Seana had marinated in the lingering warmth of his visit.
    Barth had insisted that they continue to attend the dance studio evening parties. “Zoe needs us to support her, whether she knows it or not.”
    Seana agreed. So tonight, they’d dressed festively and arrived to find the place full. First person Seana encountered was Joanie, dressed to the sparkly red fingernails in a sequined, green pants outfit and gold dance slippers.
    Barth migrated over to chat with Fred Johnson, the grocer, who wasn’t very fond of dancing but came to please Elsie, his wife.
    â€œWell look at you, Joanie!” Seana grinned and was rewarded by a twinkle of Christmas-y emerald eyes, the tint of the day. The two hugged and Seana spotted Zoe across the room, resplendent in a form-fitting silvery pants suit. Her long ebony hair was loose except for the front and sides, which were pulled up and tethered atop her head with sparkly silver ornaments.
    â€œLike it, huh?” Joanie whispered as she caught Seana’s pleased response.
    â€œI do. Did you –”
    â€œMy handiwork. Wanted to give Scott Burns a little thrill, dontcha know?”
    Seana chortled. “It worked. He looks like ol’ Brutus at a barbecue cookout.” And heaven help her, he did, as he hovered near Zoe, who barely glanced his way.
    About that time, Zoe’s gaze collided with Seana’s. Zoe quickly schooled her features and made her way over to her mother. “Hi, Mom.”
    â€œHi, honey.” Seana wanted to throw her arms around her daughter but the solid wall of resistance was up. It was in Zoe’s stance, thick and impenetrable.
    Manilow’s “I Wrote the Songs” rolled from the speakers and partners began to pair off into a sedate foxtrot. What with all the ages and degrees of dance expertise, it proved to be entertaining.
    â€œI was thinking, Mother,” Zoe looked off as if studying the crowd for their dance technique. “I want to have the family Christmas get-together here at the dance studio this year. It’s already decorated.” She looked at Seana and shrugged, her expression bland but challenging. “For a change.”
    Change.
    Seana swallowed soundly, willing her emotions away. They’d always had the celebration at her house. Always, because as the kids had always said, “It’s home.”
    Now, even that was disputed. A sharp arrow pierced her heart. “Sure.” She nodded and forced a smile. “Fine with me.”
    Zoe looked at her for long moments, like trying to decide something.
    â€œMom – I resent calling your house, only to have to go through Barth to get to you.”
    â€œBut, honey, he lives there, too.” Frustration flailed inside her.
    â€œI know,” the reply was crisp. “But I called and asked to speak to you the other day and he said you were taking a nap. I told him it was important and he said he couldn’t disturb you.” She threw up her hands. “He refused to let me speak to you. I don’t have access to my mother anymore. It was important or I wouldn’t have called.”
    â€œI’m sorry,” Seana said. “But Barth is sort of – protective. I haven’t been feeling well lately and he’s insisted on my having more rest.” She didn’t mention that stress over the family situation was the main culprit.
    â€œHe doesn’t have to protect you from me,” Zoe fairly hissed. “And when I’m trying to talk to you, he’s always there, hovering, injecting his own thoughts and – just intruding.”
    As if fate were conspiring with Zoe, Barth appeared at Seana’s side, smiling and