Uncle Ed is in town. He’s joining us.
The chat goes quiet for a moment. Even through text, I can imagine my cousins holding their breath.
Lex:
Meatball, you okay?
Noah:
You don’t have to come if you don’t want to. We can make an excuse.
Adam:
We’ve got your back either way.
My food suddenly sours in my stomach. My father. The great Thatcher Edward Charles II. Of course he’s in town for business. He’s always in town for business, except when I have art shows, career milestones, or birthdays.
Meatball:
I’ll be there.
Noah:
You sure?
Meatball:
Yeah. Can’t avoid him forever.
Lex:
If he starts anything, I’m spilling wine on him. Accidentally.
Adam:
Lex.
Lex:
What? It worked at Thanksgiving.
Noah:
That was NOT an accident, and we all know it.
Meatball:
Love you guys. See you tomorrow.
“You okay?” Alli asks, coming back with two beers andcheesecake.
“Yeah, totally fine!” My voice comes out too bright, too quick. “Just another fun family meal with dear old dad.”
“What are you going to do?”
With my appetite suddenly taking a hike, I grab my sketchbook and work on a drawing of Pierce I started yesterday. “Survive. Smile. Pretend everything’s fine.” I focus intently on capturing the exact angle of Pierce’s frown. “The usual Charles family meal strategy.”
“Thatch…”
