Momma casts Father a scathing glance.
“Don’t you look at me like that. He’s past thirty. It’s about time he grew out of this ‘playboy’ stage. Need me some grandkids.”
Pa calling Jake a playboy sends the whole table into a chuckle.
“Seriously, though,” Pa says. “It’s past time.”
“It’s better than him dating Linda.” Prim sneers.
I turn to Prim. “Linda?”
“She was obnoxious. Kept talking about how much better things are in the city. Kept asking to meet you.”
“Oh…”
“After two years, she finally realized he wasn’t going to bring her to Hollywood, and she left in the middle of the night. Didn’t even leave a note behind. Really tore him up,” Prim says.
Pa and Ma downcast their eyes, and a heavy shroud of silence envelops the room.
I’m their Linda is what they mean to say without any words. I wish I could tell them that my decision to leave wasn’t because of them. I wasn’t running away from my family, I was running towards the lights of Hollywood.
I go back to my food, but it seems to have lost all its flavor. I want more than anything to bridge the ocean between us, but it feels hopeless at this point.
We finish our meal in silence, the delivery of the pie to the table only resulting in half-hearted smiles.
Ma sets a plate down in front of me, and as much as I’d love to partake, I know I have to start sticking to my meal plan.
“No, thanks,” I say, pushing it away.
“But I made it from scratch,” Prim says. “You helped me pick the apples.”
“It just has a lot more sugar than I should have. I have a role coming up that I have to bulk up for.”
“But—”
“Let her be,” Pa says. “Us country bumpkins don’t know how to eat right and shouldn’t be tryna rub off on the finer folks.”
As if I didn’t feel guilty enough. Prim’s face falls, and my own mother avoids my gaze.
“Look, it has nothing to do with eating right. I have a role that requires more muscle. Before I came here, I was eating almost a dozen eggs a day. I’m eating plenty, I just need to cut the sugar.”
“Isn’t that going to make your heart explode?” Prim asks.
“No. I have access to some of the best dietitians, I’ll be fine. Some of the healthiest people on the planet consume numerous eggs a day.”
“Well, if you wanna go cook yourself some eggs, knock yourself out.” Pa motions towards the kitchen.
Of course, every interaction I have with my family only seems to widen the distance between us. By the time I leave, I suspect I’ll never be welcome back.
“Ya know what—fuck it,” I say, taking the plate of pie. “Ya might as well put another scoop of ice cream on it.”
All eyes dart in my direction, even Garrett’s, whose shock has somehow managed to overcome his aversion to me.
The pie melts in my mouth, mixing with my mother’s homemade ice cream to make a divine flavor. I see the others at the table staring at me, but I decide not to care. The pie is too good, and I have no desire to sully it with unpleasant conversation.
I scrape the last of the pie from the plate and moan, “Mmmmm, I’ll have another.”
Momma gives me a perturbed look but cuts me another slice.
