I do have to admit that Charlie pulled out all the stops with this place. From the moment you walk in, a great room encompasses a generous living area, reading nooks, a spacious dining area, and a completely tricked-out kitchen. There are two wings on either side, with bathrooms at each entrance, plus a half-bath just off the house’s main entrance.
Since Levy, Ant, and I were the first to stay here, Charlie’s allowed us leeway with the decorations. Levy tends toward bright abstract pieces, and I tend toward muted modernist art. The combination, along with our combined love of far too many plants, gives the place a welcoming vibe.
At least, I hope it does.
“Are you actually sweating?” Levy asks as I take the roast chicken with potatoes and carrots out of the oven.
Ant told me Ignacio doesn’t like fish, so I left off the fish course, which is a shame. I may have to work with him on that.
“Bram?”
Fuck. Pay attention, Abraham.
Turning to my brother, I point out, “Somebody left the living room a mess, and I had to spend an extra hour cleaning.”
“Are you actually nervous about Nacho joining us?”
“No. But Nacho has never been to a family dinner, and I want him to get the full experience,” I explain, ignoring Levy’s thoughtful expression.
“Well, I’m sorry for the mess. I would’ve pitched in if I realized we were making more of ato-doabout it.”
He eyeballs the table as he says this, his point pretty obvious. While we always have a nice layout, I may have gone a tiny bit overboard with a new tablecloth, placemats, and chargers. And maybe a few of the slightly fancier candles added to the center of the table.
“Wait. Are we doing an actual Shabbat dinner?”
“Of course not. I just want it to be nice.”
Levy and I were raised in a more humanist tradition. Our parents never took us to temple, save for very special occasions. But no matter how poor we were, they always did a big Friday night dinner, adjusted to our family’s beliefs and customs. It was a tradition neither of us wanted to abandon, even as we had to contemplate life after the accident.
We generally don’t talk to other people about the car accident that took our parents away from us. We’d been coming home from a family vacation, another little tradition of ours. Even though Levy and I were college men at that point, we loved the camping trips we’d take right before the beginning of the fall semester.
Levy and I survived. Our parents didn’t. Life is shitty that way sometimes.
At first, I thought continuing the tradition of a big Friday meal would seem silly or extra, especially since Levy and I are anything but religious. But no. This feels like a way to remember them, and it’s a weekly reminder of the love that always permeated our family home.
Anyway, it’s justNacho. I don’t know why I’m so nervous about everything being perfect.
Ant joins us and lets out a whistle.
“Ooh, we’re going all out for our guest tonight. I guess the rest of us are chopped liver, not deserving of the fancy place settings.”
“Oh please. We’ve always had beautiful place settings, and we’ll use these going forward.”
He winks at me, nudging my side with his sharp elbow. “I know. I’m just giving you a hard time because you’ve been a nervous hen, making sure everything is perfect.”
Heat creeps up my neck, but I shut it down. I don’t know what it is they think they’re saying. I just want to make sure our guest is comfortable.
Speaking of the devil, there’s a knock at the door.
“Come on in,” Ant yells, and I find his loudness irritating.
Hrn. I may have let myself get a tiny bit worked up over this. I bite my lower lip as Ignacio walks through the front door.
Oh, my good boy.
He followed my instructions to a T, stunning in tight, perfectly worn-in dark-wash jeans with a crisp white button-down and a sharp charcoal vest fitted closely to his trim frame. His sleeves are meticulously rolled to his elbows, revealing enticing tattoos and veins. His hair is artfully mussed with pomade, and a cheeky little swoop highlights the glossy black strands. Pausing in the entryway, he toes out of his high-end loafers to reveal pretty argyle socks that pick up on the white, indigo, and gray of his outfit.
Ant grins and goes up to him, giving him a hug. “Welcome! You’re gonna love it. Bram makes the best roast chicken I’ve ever had in my entire life. We have it every week, and I never get tired of it.”
