My parents have drifted closer. Mom is talking to my aunt about her new dryer, but she looks at me when she hears the question. My stomach flips.
“I had a girl.” I swallow. “And I liked her a lot. She was from here actually. But I don’t think it’s going to work out.”
“Oh, that’s a shame. Is it someone I know?”
My mom’s hand tightens around her glass. Everyone is listening now.
“Kendall Hodges,” I say. “She was an Amburgey, but she changed her name after high school.”
“Oh, I know that family. Her brother does my taxes.” Shesearches my face. “They seem like nice people. What happened?”
“Mom,” my dad chimes in from my grandmother’s other side. “I don’t think that was ever going to work.”
A fire starts in my chest and climbs up to my face, setting my cheeks to burning. I slam my drink on the counter. The ice rattles in the glass, and everyone around me startles.
“What does that mean?” I stare at my dad.
My mom giggles nervously. We still have some family members milling about, and she glances around at them. “You know,” she says. “We talked about this.”
“We did,” I say, gathering steam. “And I told you guys that you made her feel awful. That you made her feel like trash.”
“Grant!” My mom lays a hand to her chest.
“It’s the truth! And you haven’t learned a thing. You’re being snobs about it, and she can see as well as anyone how you view people who grew up like her.”
“We never said we look down on her,” my dad says.
“You didn’t have to. It’s clear. And honestly, the truth is she’s a better person than you guys.”
My mom squeaks. My grandmother surprises me by laughing. She covers her mouth like she’s trying not to let it escape, but it comes out anyway. My other family members are still watching us like we’re putting on a performance—mouths hang open, eyes dart around, and water is sipped nervously.
“That’s unfortunate,” my grandmother says. “All of it.” She turns to my dad. “You forgot how your mama grew up, I guess?”
“I didn’t,” my dad says. “I also know you and Dad worked hard to get ahead.”
I scoff. My anger is now driving the car, and I’ve completely lost control.
My grandmother plants a hand on her hip. She points a finger at my dad, and I inch closer to her, worried she might fall as she jabs at him. “Your father’s uncle gave him money to startour company. Did you know that? We eventually paid him back, but it was a big help. No one in my family had any way of doing that. When I married your dad, I had no other way out.” She waves his protests away. “I thought you knew better than this.”
My mom’s eyes widen. She’s obviously thinking of ways to get us back on track after we’ve been derailed by this whole argument.
“I made cookies,” Mom says. “Lemon flavored.” She gestures to the counter.
“You guys can’t even confront anything real.” I plant my hands on the counter and lean forward. I take deep breaths to calm myself, then look at each of my parents in turn. “You just sweep all your ugly beliefs under the rug.”
My mom drops the cookie plate to the counter with a resounding clang. “All right.” She says. She uses her head to gesture to the dining room. “Let’s go have a talk, then.”
“Cindy.” Dad reaches for her, but she moves away.
“You too,” she says. “We need to have a conversation with him.”
I follow her into the dining room, wondering what this is about. Murmurs from the rest of my family start up as soon as we leave the room. After the spectacle we put on, people will be talking about this for several holidays to come. If this isn’t an apology, I’m done dealing with them. And if they don’t improve, I’m not sure I can spend much more time with them. They’ve insulted the woman I love too many times. And it is love—I’m not sure any amount of distance will dull those feelings.
We’re away from other ears now. Though people usually congregate in the kitchen and living area, my parents have one of those separate formal dining rooms with tall windows and upholstered chairs. Sunlight warms my face when I sit across from them.
“You cutting me out of the will or something?” I grip the side of my chair. “After I just embarrassed you?”
Mom folds her hands in her lap. “You should hear a story,” she says.
