She stood up and moved close to him, slipping her hand into his.
As Eric turned to her, emotions flickered, briefly, across his face — apprehension, relief, and something that looked very much like love — and Emmy got it. With her around, Eric was no longer just a son and brother, but an adult too — she was his emotional anchor outside of his fucked-up family, a way to break up the dynamics which, with Owen back in the fold, had reverted to the last default setting, back when the brothers were boys. Just like Rey was there for Owen as he faced the man who was once his abuser.
Eric was right — she'd had no idea what she was stepping into when she agreed to come. But she was very glad she had.
Opposite them, the Senator was building a head of steam.
"Oh, and I have to congratulate you boys on your timing — have you orchestrated this to destroy my campaign? Because, believe me, I'm not going to put up with this emotional blackmail from the pair of you..."
To everyone's surprise, the outburst was interrupted by Eleanor, who was the last to rise and step into the fray.
“Charlie, I can’t believe this is how you greet your long-lost son who is only here because his brother had the foresight to act quickly and get him out of his kidnappers’ clutches before the situation worsened. Need I remind you what happens when Western hostages end up being sold to the likes of the infamous Haqqani network?”
“Eleanor…”
“I think it's time you shut up and listened to what your sons are telling you," she cut in. "Despite what you may think, the world does not revolve around you, and it certainly does not revolve around your reelection campaign."
She was standing ramrod straight in her low heels, her chin set perhaps a little higher than normal, two spots of color on her cheeks the only indicator of the emotion which must've been fueling her, but her voice was as steady as it had been at any point this evening.
"I am ashamed to say that, when you were boys, I let things happen at home that I should never have tolerated. I didn't think at the time that I could do anything. I was insecure, and fearful, and I failed you both as a mother."
She paused to collect herself. Next to Emmy, Eric seemed to have forgotten how to breathe — and Glenison looked as though he'd been punched in the gut. He opened his mouth, but Eleanor raised her hand.
"No, Charlie, don't," she warned, her composure slipping as she forged on. "You called me weak. Weak and unstable and incapable of managing my children. You blamed me when they left. And I was so ill I believed you, I believed that it was my fault, and it made me even sicker.”
She sighed.
"I have put up and shut up and stood by you all these years, and you have constantly put me down. You chased our sons away with your violence and your obsession with control. Now I say — enough. I thought I would never see Owen again, and Eric has managed the impossible. He's made today the happiest day of my life. You can rage and blame and bluster all you want, but I won't stand by this time. This time, I will do what I should've done seventeen years ago — I choose my sons."
The words rang out like a blow around the room, and left in their wake a stunned silence. By Emmy's side, Eric was wide-eyed, and Owen was staring at his mother with mixed awe and disbelief.
Opposite them, Charlie Glenison had aged a decade in the past few minutes. Gone was the confident, domineering figure who had walked in. Emmy was now looking at an old man, his face drawn into a mask of grief and shame, who wouldn't — couldn't — look any of the members of his family in the eye. It was a sobering sight. He let out a sigh and his shoulders sagged a little further.
Evidently his distress touched his wife, whose tone softened.
"That's not to say I've entirely given up on you, on us. I still love you, Charlie. We've been given a once in a lifetime chance to repair our broken family, and if you're prepared to try..."
The atmosphere in the room subtly changed, the released tension rippling like a collective sigh which made even Emmy feel as though she'd been through