“I’m free on Thursdays, too.”
The grip on my fork tightens, but I have no more food to hide behind.
Without enough time to brace myself, my father asks, “What about you, Grant?”
The chill has seeped across my entire body.
When I was little, my mom tried her best to double the love and care she gave me. Partially because she was the greatest mother in the world, and partially because she was making up for Keller absence in my life.
Not a day goes by that I’m not grateful to have grown up with such an amazing mother. But as much as she tried to fill the emotional hole my father left, little me constantly longed for something, anything from him. Now, I wish he would forget I existed again.
“Thursdays?” I dramatically scrunch my eyebrows together and look towards the ceiling, pretending to think over my plans. I was never great at lying, and even worse at acting, but I need to sell this performance. “I’m..” Pause for dramatic effect. “Definitely busy on Thursdays nights. Yeah. Sorry.”
My hands go up and I hope it’s convincing. I know exactly what I’m doing Thursday night, and most weekday nights. Absolutely nothing. After classes, there’s rarely anything for me to do other than procrastinate assignments or waste away watching video essays.
For all they know, though, it’s my busiest day of the week.
“Oh.” Keller glances at his plate for a second before snapping his attention back at me. “Doing what?”
“I’m...” Still trying to figure a way out of this. My father’s rent payments make a job unnecessary, so there’s no work excuse I can make. No random one-off I can use, because this needs to be a long-term out.
Every pair of eyes around the table are on me. Pressure is building up so quickly in my throat, I blurt out the first half-assed excuse I can think of.
“I have a class project to work on. Very important. Worth a lot of my grade.”
I smile, a small one, trying to look apologetic. It’s not a horrible lie, so long as my father doesn’t cross check with my professors. That’s not something he’d be above.
The few seconds of relief deteriorate when he presses.
“And you can’t work on that later? Or before we have dinner together?”
I strain my fake smile bigger.
“Nope. Specifically needs to be on Thursday nights.”
It wasn’t my intention to build tension around the table, but I’m hyperaware of the silence.
“Your brother is finally going to be making his way back to Boston,” my father says. I draw blood on the inside of my cheek. I’ve been in Boston my whole life, but there were no weekly family dinners forme. “And you can’t put in the effort to make some time for him, even if it means putting off your silly artwork?”
My mind is starting to cloud, breaths becoming shallower. Nights like these are expected to be awkward, but never to the extent of Billie and Locke staring down at their plates, Mina throwing back another glass of wine, and Keller’s staring at me in a challenge.
I just wanted my damn classes paid off. I didn’t think subjecting myself to weekly reminders of the family I didn’t have was part of the deal. Hearing him insult my greatest passion wasn’t supposed to be included, either.
Under the table, I grip the side of my thigh and push on. “My life’s work isn’t silly,” I say through gritted teeth. “Regardless, I’m very busy on Thursdays.”
My father leans over his plate, narrowing in on me. Billie and Locke fall deeper into their chairs.
I think he’s trying to intimidate me, but from here, he’s not very menacing. His tie falls into the whipped cream of his plate and the water glass in front of him enlarges his face likea magnifying glass. If I wasn’t trying so hard to sell this lie, I might’ve chuckled at how ridiculous he looks.
“What’s the real reason, Grant?”
“I told you.” I lie again. “I have a very important group project to work on. Thursdays only.” My shoulders shrug. I pull out the one thing my father seems to truly care about, and say, “It’s a shame that’s the day of Locke’s internship. Guess you’ll have to eat as a family, without me.”
Keller starts to open his mouth, maybe to comment on my subtle dig, but a man dressed in a suit walks over and taps him on the shoulder.
I’m thankful for the interruption. To get me out of stumbling through an explanation of this fake assignment, and because it causes Keller to tell everyone dinner must be wrapped up immediately.
I managed to get away scotch free. Tonight is one of the few unpleasant McCarthy experiences I have to deal with, and I won’t be forced to see the rest of them anytime soon.
