Page 81 of Level Up
Mona
I see…
Well, maybe ifyoutake someone out formefirst, I’ll consider it.
— First time meeting Mona inThe Stones of Ayor 3
twenty-one
console commands
Quick question:Can I be convicted of some sort of war crime for dragging Damien to dinner with my family? Is that technically torture? I would google it, but I’m afraid to find out the answer. The fact that he enters my grandmother’s house willingly, one foot in front of the other, is probably a good sign, at least. Reduces my liability.
When I told Victory earlier today, over coffee, that Damien would be coming over, she actually laughed. She had the decency to feel bad about it, because she’s the sweetest person ever, but I know there is some sadistic part of her that delights in this. I probably would too, if the roles were reversed. (Although everyone in her family is extremely cool and they already love Pal, so it’s not really the same.)
I’m probably making a bigger deal of this than I should be. It’s fine. It’ll be fine. We can all be civilized adults about this?—
“Thank you for deflowering my granddaughter,” is the first thing Gram says to him when they are introduced, and she says it with complete sincerity.
“Gram, that is wrong on…every single level,” I tell her, hoping my face isn’t flaming red. I can’t even look at Damien right now.
Gramtsks at me. “Shawn doesn’t count,” she says, and I sink into my chair at the table, defeated.
“I don’t even know what that means,” I say to her, though I motion for Damien to take a seat next to me.
“Well, you clearly weren’t that fond of him,” Mom replies, and she glances at Damien like she’s pointing a big foam finger at him that says:But you’re fond of this one.
“I never even met Shawn,” Marie points out, sitting across from me.
“Why are we talking about this, exactly?” I ask impatiently, aimed at no one in particular.
“We’re just saying, it’s nice to see you happy,” Mom adds, “given that you so often have bad luck with yourhe-friends.”
“You couldn’t even make ittwo minutes?” I hiss at her.
“With your what?” Damien asks me quietly, and I shake my head at him like,you don’t want to know.
“Well, I don’t know what labels the kids use these days,” Mom says. “Boyfriend? Friend-with-benefits? Queerplatonic partner?”
“How do you even know what that is?” I ask, shocked. (I mean, it’s great that she’s acknowledging platonic relationships, but that’s still a level of commitment I’m not ready for with anyone. Not to mention my verynon-platonicfeelings about him.)
“I saw it on Reddit.”
“Fine, Damien’s my boyfriend. Are you happy now?” It feels strange calling him that, still.
“Yes.” Mom smiles sweetly. “Though you picked the most boring one.”
We haven’t even started on the pizza yet and already I want to bolt.
“What aboutsuitor?” Damien suggests as we all startpulling slices out of the box on the table. “It sounds fancy and gives the impression that I own a castle.”
This startles a laugh out of Mom, and even Marie seems amused. Gram, of course, is oblivious as she uses both hands to lift a sagging slice of pizza with her chopsticks, contemplating it like she’s not sure how to actually eat it this way.
It’s surprising how quickly Damien seems to settle into the flow of conversation at the table—althoughflowis probably a stretch, since we jump from topic to topic seemingly at random. Considering that everyone in my familyprobablyhas ADHD—except for Marie because, like I said, she’s a normie—it’s difficult for some people to keep up. Even Victory, who is certainly not neurotypical, has trouble. But Damien seems fine.
He even agrees to let Mom drag us all to the living room to watchEnola Holmesafter dinner, though he holds back his commentary, despite the fact that I can see his jaw clench like he wants to yammer through the whole thing. Afterwards, however, he and Mom end up discussing their favourite Henry Cavill roles—Geralt and Sherlock Holmes, respectively—until I break up the party because it’s getting late.
