“I’m not sorry about it.” She takes a sip.
“For you.” I motion the flowers to my mother.
Her eyes beam as if it’s a surprise. Yet my heart blooms a bit in my chest. I spent my entire life trying to keep that smile on her face. I’ll take the wins where I can get them.
“Oh, these are just lovely, Tyler. Let me go change them out and then we can sit down and catch up. Come on." She grabs my hand, leading me inside then disappears into the formal dining room.
Sam approaches me with a drink ready. I take a sip, my mouth burning from the alcohol. “Damn, Sam,” I choke. It’s basically pure vodka.
“Cheers brother.” She raises her glass.
“Okay, flowers are set up. Thank you, Tyler. I look forward to them every time.” She sits on the couch, clutching a glass of wine.
“No problem, mom.” I sit down across from her.
I peer around, unsure of why I do since it hasn’t changed from my childhood. Floral rugs, expensive antiques in eachcorner. Despite the large windows, the house still has an err of darkness by the thick, closed drapes. It’s a museum of old art, antique furniture, and my haunted memories.
As I watch my mother on the couch across from me, unbothered by the memories that sit with her, my own thoughts fester. I’d pulled the man she claims to love off her on that very couch.
“Your father won’t be joining us. His meeting got delayed so he won’t be back until later this evening.” Our mothers voice interludes my thoughts, “He said he’s so sorry, but he’ll for sure be here at the next dinner.”
“What a shame,” Sam says, sarcasm like venom laced in each word. I try not to smile as I swirl my drink in my hand.
“So, what is new with you two? How is work? Sam, are you still working at that art studio thing?” Diane attempts conversation.
Sam blinks at her. “Yup.”
So, it’s going to be one ofthosenights.
Sam is colorful compared to our parents who are strictly black and white. Her act of rebellion is running her own little art studio to live out the artistic dream our parents tried to force out of her.
“And Tyler, honey, how are you? How is work? I hope your father isn’t pushing you too hard. That man works himself to death.” Diane says while taking a sip of her wine.
“Work is just fine, mom. Nothing out of the usual.”
“And how is Shelby doing?” My mother pries.
There it is.
I see Sam holding back a smile as I glance at her from the corner of my eye. She scoffs a laugh into her drink, succumbing to the complete humor that is our life.
I sigh. “Oh mom, how many times do I have to tell you, that ship has sailed. For a while now.” Well, it hasn’t necessarily sailed, but I’m about to fucking sink it.
“I just don’t understand, Tyler. She is just such a lovely girl,and comes from a good family. You have known one another since you were babies! You’rearranged.How will you get your way out of that?” she chimes, thinking she won the battle when she brings up that fact.
I open my mouth to speak but am interrupted by the house maid. “Dinner is ready, Mrs. Caddell.”
“Oh, thank god,” Sam blurts, pouncing from the couch.
“Thank you, Serena. We will be right in,” Our mother says, standing.
As she leads the way to the dining room, I feel Sam tug me back.
“You owe me a coffee, bitch.”
The three of us sit at the too big table with the head vacant in my father’s absence. Our designated seats haven’t changed since we were kids.
As I stare at the empty seat, another memory floods my mind, destroying all the dry corners I’ve managed since the last invasion.
