“This isn’t up to Kara,” I say tersely.
“No, I know, but she seems to like me even less after we spent that day off together,” he murmurs. “And it’s not like she liked me before that.”
“Look,” I grumble. “You let me worry about Kara. You’re not forcing your way into my family’s holiday. We all want you there.” Now that I know he’d actually like to eat a Thanksgiving meal, nothing will stop me from getting him there.
The silence stretches, but there’s still hope he might come. I’ve learned by now that Jude’s silences aren’t refusals. They’rehim wrestling with the part of himself that wants to say yes but doesn’t think he’s worthy.
“Okay,” he says finally. “But if it’s weird, I’m leaving.”
I laugh. “It won’t be weird.”
“It might be weird.”
“Jude,” I say with exasperation. “It won’t beweird.”
****
Full disclosure: It’s a little weird.
Not because of my parents or the food or anything like that. It’s weird because Kara isn’t happy about Jude being invited to the holiday dinner. I go to pick her up the morning of Thanksgiving, and when she gets in the car, all I get is a testy smile and then the silent treatment. Or I should say she tries to give me the silent treatment but she can’t because she’s too angry to actually stay silent.
“I can’t believe you forced your mother into inviting Jude to Thanksgiving.” She glares at me, cheeks flushed. “I thought for once we could have a Jude-free day.”
“I didn’t force her,” I say calmly. “It was her idea. She was concerned for him when she learned he’d be alone on Thanksgiving. She worries about others, Kara.”
“Oh, and are you insinuating I don’t care about people?”
I laugh gruffly. “You sure as shit don’t care about Jude.”
“I told you before, I don’t trust him.” She rummages through her purse for a lip gloss, and then flips down the visor so she can use the mirror. “He’s using you. I don’t see why you can’t see it. He’s never going to move out. You know that right? Whywould he? He’s practically living rent free in a gorgeous home with a man who cooks his meals and probably does his laundry.”
I grit my teeth, struggling with my temper. “I do not do Jude’s laundry, Kara. Jesus, why are you like this about him? You don’t care if I hang out with Jack or my other friends. But if I do something with Jude, you act like I’ve betrayed you somehow.”
“Because ever since he’s arrived in town you’ve changed.”
I scowl. “I have not.”
“Yes you have. I barely see you, and if I do see you, he’s almost always there, hovering,” she hisses. “Why is it you have to include him ineverything? My god, Liam, you work with the guy and live with the guy, spend your days off with him—”
“I spentoneof my two days off with him.” I hold up one finger for emphasis, but keep my voice even. I refuse to be baited into a huge argument right before arriving at my parent’s house. “You and I enjoyed the second day together as I recall. I took you out to a nice diner and even spent the night at your house.”
“Yes, and you act like you made a huge sacrifice too.” She snaps the visor closed and pushes her lip gloss back into her purse.
“That’s bullshit, Kara,” I sputter, losing my cool a bit.
“Whatever.”She throws up her hands. “It’s too late now. I’m stuck spending my holiday with Jude.”
I grip the wheel so tight, my knuckles turn white.
The rest of the drive is painfully quiet. Not the comfortable kind. The kind where someone is choosing not to say what they’re thinking, and you can feel the weight of all those unspoken words filling the car.
When we arrive at my parents, Kara seems calmer. Dad greets us at the door and Kara is suddenly all smiles. We enter the kitchen and she gives Mom a huge hug. She laughs at something Mom whispers in her ear, and gives me a sickeningly sweet smile, resting her hand on my arm. Maybe I’m just feeling irritable, but the way she does that feels more performative than affectionate. Like she’s playing the part of the perfect girlfriend.
Dad pours Kara and me a glass of wine, and I hang out in the kitchen longer than I’d like. Mom has everything handled, and if I try to help I’ll just get in the way. But I don’t dare leave too soon. I don’t want to be accused of abandoning Kara too early in the festivities. I’m stressed so I drink my wine faster than usual, and Dad gives me a curious look as he refills my glass.
“Everything okay, son?” he asks.
I force a smile. “Can’t complain.”
