Page 63 of The Sweet Spot

“Stop,” Brandon said, his voice nearly a growl.

“This isn’t funny, Brandon,” Susan added. “You’re trying to ruin our Christmas.”

What? Did she just say that?

Nothing else stung as much as his parents thinking I was a prop. I could take all the other insults, but this was too far. I thought to get up and let them have it out so I wouldn’t have to listen to any more of the insults, but it was like watching a car crash, and I couldn’t move, even though I was the butt of the jokes.

“I’m pretty sure it’s the other way around,” he said. “It’s a family tradition for the both of you to ruin all my Christmases. Why would this year be any different? But let me make one thing very clear to both of you: I love her. She’s beautiful, smart, funny, and most importantly, she’s kind. The both of you could learn so much from her.”

He loved me?

“Not how to make gravy or a damn ham,” Peter said. “But if you want to keep dating a lesbian weirdo to upset your mother, go ahead.”

Brandon’s jaw tensed, and I could see him taking in a few deep breaths. When he spoke, it was calm, which frightened me even more.

“I want you both to apologize to Wolseley.”

“What kind of name is that anyway?” Peter said.

“Apologize to her now.”

Peter pffted. “Why? I was just saying it how it is.”

“You are going to say you’re sorry, or you’re leaving.”

“Oh, Brandon, stop being ridiculous,” Susan said.

He slammed his fist on the table so hard that every plate rattled, and all three of us jumped. “Say you arefuckingsorry, or get out of my home. You pick.”

“Your language, Brandon.”

He stood now, his hands balled into fists. “If you don’t say sorry, I will throw you both out of here this second.”

“Brandon, it’s okay,” I said.

He ignored me and stared down both his parents.

“I’m not saying sorry,” Peter said. “I didn’t do anything wrong.”

“You have five minutes to get out of here. If you don’t, I will drag you out.”

“Brandon, enough,” Susan said.

“I’m the one who has had enough. I am so fucking done with both of you. And you’re down to four minutes.”

I got up to reach out to him, but he pushed my hand away. I’d never seen him this angry, and it scared me a bit.

“You sit your ass down,” Peter said, his face red with rage.

“What did you always say, Dad? My house, my rules? Well, it’s my house, and I want you out!”

“You wouldn’t have any of this without me,” Peter shouted. “So don’t think you can tell me what to do.”

“I have it despite you. Why do you think I went out East? I was tired of being embarrassed by you. By having you slap me around when I didn’t meet your expectations. You are a sad excuse for a father. And you have three minutes to get out of my house!”

“Why don’t you take a walk and cool off?” Susan said. “I think you need a little time to calm yourself down.”

He leaned over the table as close as he could to her face. “And you were a sad excuse for a mother. You let him beat the shit out of me.”

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