“Where is he? I told him to be here for six, and it’s twenty past! He always has to defy everything we ask of him.” My mom snaps, slamming her fork down on the table by her plate, making everything rattle despite being solid oak, and everyone sits tensely as her voice echoes around the giant dining room. “I am so sick of this.”
My mom's shoulder-length blonde highlighted hair falls gracefully over her right eye, so she flicks it back with manicured nails. Still looking like a woman in her young thirties, not her mid-forties, she barely has a wrinkle or blemish on her delicate face. Her cheekbones are rosier than normal, even on her sallow skin, and I watch my mom's beauty and elegance with awe, impressed by it even when she’s pissed off.
Elisa withdraws further into her hair, so her fork seems to be delivering food into a veil where food disappears, as my stepfather sighs at the head of the table and checks his watch for the fifth time. It’s only the four of us waiting for Dane. Supposed to be a cozy small celebration, yet this room suddenly feels wildly claustrophobic even though our table seats eight.
“Mom…. ignore it and eat. It’s Bryan’s birthday dinner. Dane will show up. You know he will…. late because it’s what he does, but he will still come home.” I try to soothe her with soft words and some logic, but we all know Dane will show up when he feels like it, regardless of the date. “He does this to annoy you, and it’s working.” Anytime she gives him a set time, he ignores it. I sigh and push my food around, hating that he has ruined yet another family meal.
“The food is really good, Mrs. Masterson. You should eat it before it gets cold.” Elisa pipes up shyly, her sweet voice coming out from the hunched-up figure as she aids in smoothing my mom’s ruffled feathers. She’s been an extension of our family for years, as she lives two houses away and practically grew up with me since I moved in here. My mom loves having her around and always invites her to family-related events. I think she felt Elisa was a sibling I needed because I was an only child, and Dane hated coming here for visitation, so he would dodge it.
“Honey. It’s fine. He’ll show up when he’s hungry, and I told you I didn’t need anything special today. I’m happy to spend time with my family at any time. It’s just another year of reminding me I’m old.” My stepfather gives Mom a tight smile, trying for light-hearted warmth, but her grip on her water glass tightens, and she sits up straight, tenser.
Bryan is nothing like his son. He’s handsome in that mature guy kind of a way and fit because my mom is a stickler for health. He compliments my mom with their good looks – the typical Florida, wealthy, good-looking couple.
Where Dane is tanned, with pale eyes and black hair, Bryan is pale naturally, a little freckled in places with light brown hair turning grey and smiley hazel eyes. Dane’s all angles and smoldering gazes, while Bryan's happy face always seems approachable. The only thing Dane seemed to get from his DNA was their height. Tall and stocky as though they were meant for the sports field.
My mom furrows her already frowning brow further. Her happy mood from half an hour ago has been dying by the second.
“I’m so tired of dealing with this. Anything I say, he ignores. Anything I do, he throws back in my face…. what am I supposed to do with him?” She exhales heavily, eyes misting over as though this is the worst stress of her life, and sometimes, I don’t get why she tries so hard. She wouldn't always be at his throat if she let him be and didn’t demand anything. She can’t change him. Since he moved in, it’s like she tries so hard to be his mother, whereas before, she didn’t give him the time of day. I just don’t get it.
“Stop expecting…. It only sets you up for disappointment. You know how he feels.” Bryan reaches out his hand and covers the one beside my mother’s discarded fork, squeezing her, and I try to focus on my food. The steak is getting cold as I’m picking at it, but I have no appetite, thanks to the atmospheric tension caused by Dane.
A clatter in the main hall sounds like the front door swinging shut, and then minor scuffing and boots squeak on the marble floor. Low voices follow it, and I stiffen, knowing what’s coming. It sounds like Dane brought Tyler with him, and my mom is already in the worst mood over his being late. Even though she asked Elisa, she never asked any of Dane’s friends. She never does.
“Listen, honey… he’s here. Relax, eat. Let’s enjoy this. Let it go and have a nice dinner for once.” Bryan lets her go and sits back to pick up his cutlery again, but my mother does not move. I catch her in the corner of my eye, pushing her shoulders back and raising her chin, and I inwardly deflate. Mom is moving into battle mode, and I know she will go off at him when he comes in here.
“Sorry, we’re late, Mr. and Mrs. Masterson… we had a delay with school things,” Tyler mumbles, striding in first, seeming sheepish and giving a quick head bow in apology as he eyes up the table and tries to figure out where to sit. He’s still in his earlier uniform and looks more wrinkled than when we left school a couple of hours ago. God knows where they have been or what they have been doing.
School things, my ass.
Seeing only one place set, he turns to the side and gives Dane a glaring look as he strolls in casually beside him. It looks like Dane told him he was invited when my mother never agreed, and Dane shrugs back and smirks. That wicked gleam in his eye that he knows this will be something else to piss my mom off.
“Yeah, soz…. we had stuff going on. I’m starving. Smells good.” Dane walks up, eyes up the vacant seat next to me that sits between his father and I and the place setting clearly for him, then at Elisa beside my mother on the opposite side. He seems to do a mental calculation as to where he should put Tyler.
“Monique, can you set another place, please,” Bryan calls out to the housekeeper, who is never far from earshot, and motions towards Tyler with a polite finger wave. Gesturing towards the seat facing Elisa, right beside me on the other side. “The more, the merrier. Nice to see you again, Tyler.”
Bryan has always been a polite, calm peacekeeper who never gets riled at anything his son does. Not the tattoos, the piercings, the motorbike… the times he has had to bail him out of the sheriff's office, or the number of times he’s scraped his drunk ass off the driveway at four am. Just thinking about it causes a ball of rage in my lower stomach; in return, all he gets is a bad attitude and hate for something that happened ten years ago.
He was not the only kid who had their family ripped apart.
Dane ushers Tyler to the seat before sauntering on past behind me and hauls out the chair to plank himself heavily down. He exudes this overly confident and casual vibe no matter what he’s doing, and that alone makes me grit my teeth. Nothing ever gets through that outer ‘who cares’ attitude, even when he caused the obvious tension right now.
He pulls his glass towards him, takes a sip, and then peruses the table with a lazy glance, seemingly unimpressed with us all.
“Are you not going to wish your father a happy birthday?”
And so it begins.
I hate conflict like this. My mom doesn’t even give him a second to settle, tension crackling around her with her snappy tone, and the steak in my mouth suddenly feels like I’m chewing ash. Churning up my stomach as my nerves tighten, and for once, I wish my mom would leave it alone.
“Yeah…. happy getting older…. power to you,” Dane smirks his dad’s way, with no sincerity, and Bryan nods with a half-smile as if to say thank you. Dane waits until he sees Tyler being served food before he starts to dig in, obviously done with his well wishes. I shake my head at his lack of effort, praying my mom lets it go and stuff food in my mouth to curb the need to call him an asshole.
“Can’t you do something properly and respectfully for once?”
I exhale heavily at her voice.
My mom could never back down and let it go where he’s concerned; just had to bite.
“He’s your father….. don't you have a gift? Something more meaningful to say?” She sits rigid, facing him and not moving to pick up her cutlery as the rest of us have. Bringing the black cloud firmly over our heads, I know there’s no rescuing this now. She’s only getting warmed up, and Dane will only get riled. I wish he never came home at all.
“Honey… leave it. Let’s just...” Bryan interjects but is immediately cut off.
“The gift is my presence….. you want me to say something heartfelt… I’m not sure you would like what I have to say.” Dane snorts and doesn’t glance her way but leans in and stuffs food in his mouth, unphased by the audience, the bad atmosphere, or the way my mother is scowling like he’s a demon child sent from hell to make her life miserable. He chews loudly.
“No… please… let's hear it. I really want to know what you have to say to your father on his birthday.” My mother snaps, tone frosty and eyes glued to Dane. “Waiting with bated breath for your words of wisdom at the ripe old age of seventeen.”
My food becomes a lump in my throat, and I stare down at my lap to count to ten, so I keep my mouth shut. Anger is growing, and that inner ache of utter contempt that I carry with me whenever I share air space with this idiot. I curse the day he moved in here and made this my everyday life. The past six months have felt like six years. This horrible atmosphere where there was once a home is the reason I have stomach issues nowadays.
I am also mortified that my mom is doing this in front of Tyler and Elisa when she doesn’t even know Tyler at all. That Dane is being this shitty once more.
My mom is normally a stable and warm person who has been my rock my whole life, but he brings out the absolute worst in her. I never thought my mom could hate someone, given she’s a doctor and people lover, yet Dane is the exception. From the second he walked in here with cases in tow, they have butted heads.
“Maybe I should go and take Ummm…….” Tyler interrupts and glances across at Elisa, who has further sunk into her hair because she is awful with drama. “Cousin It, with me.” He frowns, seemingly confused about her name or maybe even her identity, and I glare at him with a snapping head turn.
“Her name is Elisa. Don’t be a jerk.” I huff at him, incensed at the Addams family reference.
Dane snort laughs under his breath at Tyler’s insult to my friend, so the impulse to use my fork to stab him in the leg becomes almost unbearable.