Page 14 of Bad at Love

It’s the best answer I can give. If I admit I was waiting for a roommate, there will be a million things to say about that.

If you had a better job, you wouldn’t need a roommate.

Why didn’t you ask him to get there sooner?

Why are you sharing a home with a stranger?

Why can’t he be on time?

Why do you let people affect you so much?

The list goes on and on, and so it’s easier just to put the blame on me. They expect my failure, so it’s believable.

“Perhaps you should get a watch,” my father adds, reaching for his glass of red wine.

“I will look into that,” I say, tugging down my sleeve to cover the watch I’m wearing. It pairs with my phone and works just fine, but it isn’t the newest one, and therefore, isn’t good enough for them.

“Maybe we can get you one for Christmas, Gabriel,” my oldest brother, Winston, says. He’s a junior and thinks that gives him special privileges. It’s just a name and I’ve said that many times, not that it matters to him.

“If that’s what you want,” I answer.

“Enough talking about Gabriel,” my mother says, shaking her hand and grabbing her glass of wine with the other. “Tell me more about Celeste.”

Celeste is Winston’s oldest daughter. She’s away at boarding school with my other nieces and nephews. I always said if I hada child, I wouldn’t send them away to boarding school, even if it would be expected from my parents and my family. Tara sided with them. I think it’s absurd. What’s the point of having kids if you aren’t going to raise them? Though, growing up with my parents, maybe I would have been better off had I been sent to a boarding school. Instead, they had nannies raise us. I’m not sure why they didn’t send us away. They certainly had enough money. Maybe it just wasn’t what all their friends were doing at the time.

The school that my nieces and nephews attend is relatively new, and my father golfs with the headmaster. I’m sure they’re all getting the best education and perfect lessons on how to act better than everyone else. What better way to do that than have them hang out with the most pretentious people you can find?

Chantelle, Winston’s wife, answers my mother. “She has earned top marks in all her classes and received an award for excellence in debate. They want her to take on the role of coordinator for the debate team.”

My mother gasps, smiling in delight. “Even at such a young age?”

“Yes!” Chantelle says with a bright smile. “Isn’t that wonderful?”

“My, she is going to make an excellent lawyer one day,” my mother says.

“We couldn’t be more proud,” Winston answers, putting his arm around his wife.

“Marie is on the debate team as well,” Sterling adds. “She’s proud of her cousin, and though she struggles somewhat, she says she’s learning a lot. Good work.” He raises his glass to my brother as if he should be proud of raising an argumentative child.

I sigh, ringing my hands together under the table.

I don’t fit in with this family. I don’t belong here. Why do I still come?

The doors leading to the kitchen creak open and the servers walk out, each of them holding a dish. The table is already set with plates and cutlery. The dishes of food are put down along the middle of the table. Two full roasted chickens, mashed potatoes, asparagus, freshly baked rolls, and tureens filled with golden gravy. It smells delicious, and I’m sure it will taste just as good.

The dishes get passed around, and we put food on our plates, but only enough that you’ll eat because you can’t waste it. If you want more, you can get more, but you dare not throw any away.

“Is that all you’re taking, Gabriel? You’re eating like a bird,” my mother chastises.

I look down at my plate that is full. It’s more than I should have taken in the first place. The last time I took too much and couldn’t eat it, I got scolded like a child. I’d rather not deal with that again. Going home starving is better than going home shamed.

“It’s all I need.”

“Oh, come now. Put more food on that plate. Tevia, add more potatoes to Gabriel’s plate.” My mother gestures to William’s wife, who is sitting beside me. She grabs the dish and plops another full scoop onto my plate with a smile.

“Thank you, Tevia,” I say, holding back my annoyance.

They all make small talk as we eat, leaving me out of every conversation. Honestly, I don’t even mind anymore. I come here because I’m told to. I eat dinner. I leave. I’m not about this life and being the way they are. I don’t have a wife to bring along, and I don’t have kids to brag about or send off to boarding school. Hell, I don’t even have enough money to do the things they all do. No vacations, no country clubs, no fancy cars. My cell rings and I freeze, panic causing my ears to buzz as badly as the vibrating in my pocket.

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