“What are your parents up to tonight?” my mother asks Tyler.
“They’ve gone out dancing, like they do every Saturday.”
My sister stifles a laugh, and I surprisingly find myself doing the same.
“We haven’t been dancing for a while,” my mother says, shooting a quick glance at my father. “It’s a bit difficult when your dance partner collapses at ten o’clock every evening in front of one of those damn TV documentaries.”
My father rolls his eyes.
Tyler laughs. “Maybe you could go along with my mum sometime. They don’t always go together – my dad tends to prefer the sofa, too.”
“You know, I think I will,” my mother says, satisfied, before taking a sip of wine. She turns her gaze to Skylar, who hasn’t touched her food.
“Don’t you like it, honey?”
Skylar rolls her eyes, too. “No, it’s okay. I think.”
She didn’t eat much at lunch, either.
“I’m just not that hungry.”
“That’s okay, just eat what you can. Don’t force yourself.”
Skylar nods, before picking up her fork and continuing to pushing the food around her plate.
“Tomorrow I need to go to Letterkenny, the shopping centre,” Rian says suddenly. “I need some new mats for the gym, and there’s nowhere else around here that sells sports equipment. Why don’t you come with me?”
Skylar glances at her, unconvinced.
“You could get some new stuff for your room,” my mother suggests.
“Your room?” Rian asks.
“Your old bedroom,” my mother explains.
“Is she redecorating it?”
“Kerry says I can.”
My sister looks at me, her expression unreadable; I don’t know whether she’s about to throw a knife at my head or upend the entire table.
“In that case,” she says, gentler than I’ve ever heard her, “I think I should come with you. There are loads of shops there and I’m sure you’ll be able to find something in your…” She studies her before concluding: “Style.”
That actually went fairly well.
“Okay.”
“Okay?” I ask, shocked to my core.
“Yeah. That’s fine.”
“Perfect,” Rian says, smiling. “I’ll come and pick you up at nine.”
Skylar nods and turns her attention back to her plate, stabbing her fork into some chicken and bringing it up to her mouth, chewing slowly. We all sit there, silently, as I stare at my sister, who’s watching my daughter, concern etched onto her face. She suddenly looks at me.
“Thank you,” I mouth.
“I’m not doing it for you,” she mouths back, and I nod.
