“It’s nothing really.”
I see Cassi sitting beside Henry, shaking her head.
“Quit with the fake modesty, mom. Your meatloaf is literally the best ever. I used to ask to have it for breakfast.”
“Really?” I ask in surprise and also partly in disgust.
“It’s true,” Mary smiles. “That girl will eat anything, any time of the day.”
“Social constructs revolving around food are absolutely ridiculous. How can it be a right or wrong time of day to enjoy certain foods?” Cassi asks the table.
“I do love waffles for dinner on occasion,” Henry agrees.
“But do you love it because you’re not supposed to have it?” Mary challenges.
“I don’t buy that, remove the taboo and it’s still a delicious waffle, or a life altering piece of meatloaf, right?” she asks me for back up.
I hesitate for a moment, not sure what to say. Cassi’s bright green eyes are practically begging me to agree with her and before I think otherwise, I’m nodding my head.
“Good food is good food, no matter if it’s considered right or wrong to have it.”
The instant my words are out, I want to take them back. Especially when I see the flare in Cassi’s eyes followed by the deep breath that has her chest rising and falling. A chest I’m extremely acquainted with. One I’ve seen bare and donned with beautiful rope that made her look like an unwrapped gift for the taking.
I’ve come to the realization that I’ll never be able to escape that night. No matter how hard I’ve tried, it has been etched into my brain. Every last detail of it, of her, there forever. To stand the test of time, I have no doubt of it.
“I’ve always hated meatloaf. It’s so fatty and weird,” Carly adds in, taking the conversation into a swift and sharp detour.
The mood feels instantly soured as everyone looks from one another, unsure of where to go. I watch as Mary’s proud smile dims as she softens her voice and her head.
“It’s okay, sweetheart. You don’t have to eat it. I have some salad in the fridge if you’d prefer.”
Carly moves to stand when I rest a hand into her lap, pushing her leg down so she’s forced to sit. She looks to me in confusion as I attempt to control my irritation.
“You need to apologize to your mother and eat what she made.”
“Have you seen this meal? Not a veggie in sight. Do you want a fat girlfriend?” she argues.
Jesus Christ.
“I want a respectful one. Apologize and eat, in that order.”
She gives me a defiant look but ultimately caves, turning to her mom.
“Sorry, the food is good. I’m just watching my macros.”
Mary gives her a tight smile paired with an understanding nod before everyone resumes their meal. I peel my hand away from Carly immediately and ignore her completely when she pouts. I know she’s expecting me to dote on her and praise her for being a decent fucking human to the woman who birthed and raised her, and I don’t have the energy or patience to point out how fucked that is.
Shaking my head, I focus on my meal as I recount how idiotic it was to decide to stay here. I can’t fucking take this. I don’t even know why I wanted to stay.
That’s not true and you fucking know it.
Still.
I need to get home to Boston. Away from the entire Fischer family. They spell nothing but trouble for me.
“So, Nico, since you will be with us for a little longer, how about we head out to the sound? Do some fishing?”
“I’ve never been,” I admit, “but it sounds like a good time.”
