Mom: “That’s wonderful, honey.”
Dad: “Isn’t this a bit fast?”
Moby, stiffly: “Uh, congratulations.”
Birdie: “Mama, what’senraged?”
Anh: “Engaged, Bird. Aunt Frankie’s getting married.”
Mimi: “Merde.”
Darwin: “Could someone pass the stuffing?”
“Aren’t you going to say something?” I asked George, the only person who hadn’t spoken.
The room fell silent once more.
He was completely still, frozen like the creek. Maybe I shouldn’t have pushed him, but I was desperate for his approval.
My smile fell. “George?”
“Congratulations.” His voice was flat.
“That’s it?”
“Frankie,” my mom said gently. “Let him be.”
I ignored her. “Your oldest friend in the world is getting married, and there’s nothing more you want to say?”
George stared at me for a long moment and then said under his breath, “I don’t think you want to hear what I have to say.”
I raised my chin, blood heating. “I think I do.”
George stood from the table so suddenly that Birdie covered her ears at the loud scrape of chair legs against the floor.
“Thank you for dinner, Rebecca,” he said to my mom.
“George,” Mimi said. “Sit down.”
He ignored her. “Moby, could you walk my grandmother home after dinner?” My brother stammered out a yes.
“Why are you being such an asshole?” I said, getting to my feet.
“Frankie!” Mom and Anh said, in unison.
My niece looked at me, her mouth the shape of a capital O. I winced. “I’m sorry, Birdie.”
George walked out, and I followed him to the mudroom. “You’re supposed to be happy for me. You’re supposed to be supportive. I was going to ask you to be my best man.”
He scoffed, saying nothing as he pulled on his boots and zipped up his parka.
“Don’t you dare walk away from me,” I said, hurrying to dress for the cold. “This isn’t over.”
George was out into the night before I’d had a chance to grab a hat and gloves.
I chased him through the field. The snow was bright beneath the moon, the sky decked in stars. It was a clear night, the coldest of the year. I should have been frozen—my jacket undone, no scarf around my throat—but I was too upset to feel the bite.
“George, stop. Talk to me.”
