Charles picked up a cookie from the plate and bit into it. He chewed for a moment before he spoke again.
“Whenever I had a stomachache when I was little, my dad would have me sip on ginger ale while we played cards.” He pulled out a deck of playing cards and held them up to see if I was up for a game. I nodded and sat up straighter. “These cookies are bland and shouldn’t upset your stomach much.”
I nodded and reached for one as he started to shuffle the cards.
“I know today wasn’t easy, and I’m sorry it was bothersome.”
“It’s just part of everything right now,” I replied.
“Kristin and I want to make sure you know you can come to us anytime with anything. I know it’s easy and almost natural for you to worry about things right now, but please know that you can come to us whenever anything is on your mind.”
“I will. Thank you.”
Charles and I sat playing cards until Hollis and Morgan came home. The two of them came upstairs and tossed their backpacks into their rooms and came in to see me just as Charles was standing up.
“What’s wrong?” Hollis asked and ran over to crouch next to me.
“Nothing,” I answered.
“Patrick and I were just playing some cards and having some ginger ale,” Charles said.
“Is your stomach okay?” Hollis asked.
“It was bothering me a little, but the ginger ale helped some.”
“Are we still doing pizza?” Morgan asked their dad.
“Patrick, feeling up for pizza?” Charles asked me.
“Always,” I replied.
Friday nights were pizza and game nights for Hollis and his family. This was the first Friday night of me being here to experience it as part of their family. I wasn’t going to be the reason they stopped doing it. If I had to, I’d have cheese pizza with Chase. Until dinner, I played Nintendo with Hollis and Morgan. When Chase got home, he ran upstairs and joined us in the loft.
When Charles and Morgan left to go pick up the pizzas, I helped Hollis and Chase set the table. Though Chase complained, I actually thought it was great. I’d helped Hollis set the dinner table all week and enjoyed it. I’d never been welcomed at my own dinner table and often ate alone or during arguments. Being at this dinner table was something totally different.
“I don’t know why we can’t just eat on the couch with paper plates,” Chase announced as he took three plates from Hollis. I took the other three plates from Hollis and smiled at him before turning to follow Chase to the table.
“Because we sit at the table,” Kristin answered him.
“But we can sit on the couch.” Chase tried again.
“We’re going to eat at the table,” Kristin patiently replied while she put a salad in a large wooden bowl.
“And you’re messy when you eat,” Hollis added while he filled some glasses with ice from the automatic ice maker in the freezer door.
Chase dramatically sighed as he went to collect the glasses from Hollis. Chase continued to plead his case for the paper plates and the couch while we placed the glasses on the table. The three of us then worked on setting the silverware beside each plate.
“Think of all the extra work that’s created when we eat at the table. All the dishes, all the silverware. Paper plates and foam cups would be much better. And plastic sporks!” Chase held up a spoon and a fork in opposite hands. “Sporks would save so much time! Now that there’s six of us, that means six forks and six spoons. By using sporks, we can reduce twelve utensils down to six.”
“I don’t think plastic sporks will look very nice on the dinner table,” Kristin told him.
“Okay, I can meet you in the middle on the plastic. I’m sure there are silverware makers out there that proudly make metal sporks.”
“I don’t think so, sweetheart,” Kristin disagreed.
As Kristin set out some bottles of salad dressing, I grabbed a couple and followed Hollis to the table with them. After Hollis set the two that he was carrying on the table, he quickly turned and hadn’t realized I was right there. He bumped into me and then reached out and took hold of my upper arms. I closed my eyes to take it all in and feel the warmth of his touch. Hollis’ touch created a heat that spread like wildfire through my body. I loved it and didn’t want him to let go.
“Shit, sorry, Patrick. Are you okay?” he asked.
