Page 20 of High Density

“In that case,” my sister drawls, the calculating gleam in her eyes not particularly reassuring. I discover how accurate an assessment that is, when she adds, “Why don’t you invite her for dinner tomorrow night? I’d love to meet her before I head back.”

From the wide smirk on her face, I can tell she is right pleased with herself. I can’t believe she is throwing me under the bus to get the focus off her and let her know with a dirty look. Not that she’s at all impressed.

“Great idea,” Ma predictably agrees. “Ask her. Or I can always call her myself.”

“Ama…” Pa warns from his seat. “You’re meddling.”

“I am not. Is it a crime to be happy at least one of my children is giving me hope, maybe one day, I’ll be blessed with grandbabies?”

I love my mother, but there are times I wish I lived at the other side of the fucking country. I can try and deny anything is going on, but that’s just going to make Ma more determined.

I catch a glance from Una.

“Please?”she mouths across the table.

I close my eyes and shake my head. I want to expose Janey to our dysfunctional family dynamic as much as I want a root canal, but I know it would, at least temporarily, divert attention from my sister.

“She’s probably busy,” I mention, in a last attempt to stop this runaway train.

Ma has a ready answer. “You won’t know ’til you ask.”

I hum in response and leave it at that.

After dinner, which was surprisingly uneventful as family meals go, I take my leave. Una walks me out to my truck.

“Are you going to invite her?”

I stop and turn to her. “I will, but with full disclosure.”

Una looks a bit alarmed. “What do you mean by that?”

“She’s a nice woman and I’m not going to pull her into a situation she is not prepared for. If she agrees, she’s gonna do it knowing what she’s in for.”

A brief struggle plays out on my sister’s face as she processes my intent to share her secret. Her expression settles on resolute.

“Fine. Tell her. It’s gonna be a matter of public record soon anyway.”

She abruptly turns back toward the house, leaving me to wonder what the hell that was all about.

Knowing my sister, probably nothing good.

Janey

Despite feeling flattered,my knee-jerk reaction was to say no.

The excuse of being too busy seems an easy out these days.

I mean, it’s true, Iambusy, but it’s not an excuse to shut out the world and stop living your life. I could end up like my dad, a stroke at fifty-six, and everything he worked so hard for his entire life, gone. That was almost nine years ago. Dad is still around, but the farm is gone, sold to pay for the small bungalow my parents bought in Eureka, and to cover his medical bills.

My parents are well into their sixties, and their life now is not even close to what they’d envisioned and planned for their retirement.

I’m like Dad, a workaholic. Never leave for tomorrow what you can do today. It was a principle I was raised on as it pertained to chores and work ethic. I never realized until Dad had the stroke, it could translate just as easily to enjoying what you can today because tomorrow is not guaranteed.

It’s only one of the reasons why I ended up agreeing to have dinner tonight with JD and his family. Another reason, of course, was that turning down a dinner invite to the parents could be construed as disinterest, which is far from the truth. But after the background JD provided, and his transparency about the situation I was walking into, there was no way I could refuse.

Besides, I’ve met both his parents and like them. James comes across as stoic, but I’ve seen the wrinkles left by laughing plenty, and the small tugs at the corner of his mouth betraying a sense of humor. His son is obviously cut from the same cloth. I’ve encountered Ama mostly from a distance, except after that breech delivery when she fed me breakfast. As intimidating as she seemed at first, I could sense the big heart she tries to hide behind a stern exterior.

It doesn’t mean I don’t have butterflies dancing in my stomach as JD takes my hand and walks me from his truck to the front door of his parents’ place.

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