My mom shakes her head. “No, let him calm down. He’s stressed. We’re both really happy for you, Farah. Mitt will come around. He just needs time.”
My sister-in-law forces a smile, but her shoulders slouch.
“So, Tanner, what’s new with you?” my mom attempts to change the subject.
Oh, let’s see, I want to quit my job and buy a bar,but my big brother just completely fucked my plan with his little announcement.
“Not much. I still haven’t found a roommate.”
My brother picks at the slice of cake in front of him.
“You’re looking for a roommate?” she asks.
“Have been since the end of July,” I snap, my patience wearing thin, and my eyes shift back to Mitch. “Bro, talk to me. I think I at least deserve to know why he reacted that way.”
“Honey, don’t worry about it. Bella, did you tell Tanner you’re the cheer captain this year?”
I blink in my mother’s direction. She is actually acting like this dinner isn’t completely fucked, just carrying on like nothing happened.
“Mom, can you be so for real right now? Dad just stormed out of dinner. I don’t think Tanner wants to hear about me being the cheer captain,” Bella says with as much drama as you can expect from a sixteen-year-old.
“No, I do want to hear about it, and we will talk about it. But, you’re right. Right now, I’d like Mitch to tell me what’s going on with Dad.”
“I said it’s complicated,” he barks.
Of course he won’t tell me. It doesn’t matter that I work there too. It doesn’t matter that I’m his brother. None of it ever matters. I’m not Mitch. I’m not Bella. I’m just Tanner, and that’s not good enough. If I ever needed confirmation that buying The Local was the right move, it’s this conversation.
“Right. Okay, well on that note. I’m gonna head out too.” I run my hands through my hair.
“You didn’t touch your cake, and I specifically asked her to make you red velvet because I know it’s your favorite,” my mom says.
“Red velvet’s not my favorite. Lemon is, and I’m suddenly not in the mood for cake.” I stand and begin to walk out of the room, only pausing to kiss Bella on the top of the head. “Bye, Bells. Congrats on the cheer thing. Farah, it was nice to see you. Congrats on the new gig.”
My mom and brother begin arguing about something behind me, but I don’t have it in me to listen to what it’s about.
The warm, summer air and the scent of cigarettes hits me in the face the minute I swing their front door open. I quickly close the door behind me and turn left to the side of the house.
“I thought you quit?” I ask, rounding the corner.
My dad throws the butt of his cigarette onto the stone driveway and stomps it out with his foot.
“Don’t tell your mother.”
“Yeah,” I breathe out, shaking my head.
“I’m sorry for storming out of dinner,” he says.
“It’s fine.” I shrug. “Farah deserves the apology, not me. Have a good night.” I turn to walk away, but he stops me.
“Wait, let me explain.”
I freeze. Part of me thinks I should leave, but I don’t. The other part of me thinks I should just tell him about the bar so that I can be done with this nonsense, but I don’t do thateither. Instead, we stand there in silence for a few seconds, staring at one another.
The flood light illuminates his face. It’s amazing how little we look alike. He’s at least three inches shorter than me. His eyes are a brownish green. Younger Mitt even had dark brown hair, but now it’s gray. He looks exhausted. He looks old.
He rubs his hand down his face and exhales.
“I planned on taking a step back from the company at the end of the year.”
