Page 98 of You Were Invited
“We’d like our food to go,” Julian said.
Nodding, Ellie flipped the burger patties and laid a slice of cheese down on both.
When Julian’s hands began to shake, he crossed his arms over his chest. After the last couple months, he’d forgotten just how nosey and nasty folks of Northgold could be. In fact, he’d begun to feel at home again. Now, he felt stupid that he’d deluded himself into thinking such things.
“You know.” Annie touched his arm. “Something my therapist said once was that sometimes when someone can’t rest their mind, it’s because some person or situation feels unacceptable to us. And getting back to serenity means accepting what’s happened as being what’s supposed to be at that moment.” She paused, biting her thumbnail. “Withholding love and masking it with hate doesn’t help anyone.”
Julian’s stomach churned. He sucked in a sharp breath and whispered. “I don’t know, Annie. I definitely don’tlovethat bastard.”
“You hate him because you once loved him…” A shadow passed over her face. “D’you wanna remember today like this? Hiding like this?”
Julian’s face went as red as the tomato sauce on a plate that a waitress carried on her way to the dining room. “Annie. Don’t.”
“No, just listen. I’ve had the feeling something like this would happen. I know you’re not a coward, and I know you’ll hate yourself more than you hate him–”
He opened his mouth.
“–and at the very least, go lay down your boundaries once and for all. I guess that’s what I was trying to say before. Tell him enough is enough. He shouldn’t keep bothering you. And you don’t run away from a challenge, right? And you have to walk back out there anyways, right?”
They’d left his hat and Annie’s purse in the booth. He stared at Annie and she stared right back, having now made her case and wrapped it up with a bow. It made him angry, but he had no argument against her point on setting boundaries. Would Clive stick around town? He had no idea. But Julian had a feeling that even if Clive moved to another country, he’d still have to find a way to coexist with his father. Maybe it was time to face what he didn't feel ready to look at.
He broke my old reality. I suppose I should set my new one right from the get-go before he breaks it, too.
Julian told Annie to wait in the truck for him once she got their food. When he walked back into the dining room, the old folks were elbow deep in their gossip and sodas. Every eye in the restaurant landed on him. They seemed stunned he’d found the guts to approach the “old man.” Or perhaps, from the glancesand the dip in conversation, they were simply making a collective mental record for the rest of the town to relive later.
Every footstep was torture.
For a moment, Clive was oblivious to the read of the room. His menu was gone. In its place, a dark soda and a glass of orange juice.
Julian stood at the end of his dad’s table, and the ghost of his past looked up.
Clive’s once solid, dark brown hair was clipped into a short cut that was probably a coupla-three weeks old. The skin under his eyes was baggy, and a few age spots had appeared above his receded temples. From the looks of it, the man had probably slept in his clothes. His voice was hollow and worn when he nodded and said, “Julian.”
“Mmm-hmmm.” Julian thought about looming like that. But, he sat down. The shock on Clive’s face was almost worth it.
Almost.
He’d say his piece and get the hell out.
“Couldn’t wait to eat here,” Clive said, grinning. “We ate here every Sunday, remember? But I walked in an’ about thought, hell, I’m in the wrong place.”
You sure are.
Just then, Teagan arrived, balancing three full plates. An order of onion rings, a plate of pasta, and a bowl of clam chowder with the works.
“She’s still working on your fried steak.”
Clive nodded and tucked the cloth napkin into his rumpled shirt collar as Teagan left. “Good. No slop or chili in sight.” He chuckled to himself. “Y’know what that does toa man’s guts, right?”
“Uh, yeah.” The familiarity made Julian’s skin crawl. He tapped a finger on the table, trying to figure out how to start.
Clive reached for the salt, which was completely full. He tipped it over his pasta, and instead of shaking out a few flakes, the entire silver cap came off and pinged off the rim of the plate.
Julian blinked in disbelief. Someone stifled a laugh on the other side of the room.
Clive dropped his head. “I guess that about sums up my entire lunch,” he muttered, shuffling his plates around. He glanced up at Julian. “How you doing, Son?” He picked up his glass of orange juice and took a noisy sip.
“Fine enough… Look. I’m not here to chitchat.” It was time to rip off the bandaid. “Now that you’re back on the outside, there’s gonna be a few ground rules.”
