Page 72 of Told You So
Nick
The moment I walk into my parents’ house, the tension in my body triples, despite the smell of homemade cookies that fills the air. Normally, it’s a comforting scent that makes my stomach rumble and my smile stretch from ear to ear. After my phone call with Bethany, though, and hearing the reediness of her voice, something tore open inside me. I’ve heard her scared and angry and frustrated, but never desperate to hold herself together like that. I know it had something to do with her parents, especially after seeing that text from her dad, which makes me think of my own and how screwed up this situation is. It’s hard to imagine how this family dinner will go.
“Nick, sweetheart, is that you?” My mom’s voice rings from upstairs. “I’ll be down in a minute. I’m just freshening up.”
“No prob.” I head into the kitchen to snoop. There are chocolate chip cookies on the counter, some on a small, decorative plate, and two Tupperware containers beside it—one for my dad and one for me, I assume. I wonder if it’s easier for her now, not having to hide the truth.
Opening the fridge, I reach for the carton of orange juice. It’s light and almost empty, so I spin the cap off and chug what’s left.
“I see not everything’s changed,” my dad says from behind me, and I nearly choke in surprise.
Wiping off my mouth with the back of my hand, I glance over my shoulder. He’s in his workout clothes, like he’s just coming home from the gym. But then, this isn’t home anymore, not for him. He sets the newspaper on the counter and walks over to the cabinet and pulls out a glass.
“Nope, not everything.” I toss the empty carton into the recycling.
My dad eyes my ranch clothes. “How’s Sam?”
“Good.” I don’t feel like elaborating, not while there’s no trace of remorse on his face.
He pours himself a glass of water. “I’m glad. She’s a good kid.”
“We’re not kids anymore,” I remind him. “We’ve been adults for a long time now.”
My dad shakes his head, as if he’s amused. “You’ll always be our kids, Nick. We’ll always want to protect you.”
I step over to the sliding glass door, biting back my resentful comments. I’m not sure if I should start in on him now or wait until my mom’s present so we can hash it out together and be done with it.
“I wasn’t sure you’d join us tonight,” he admits. The laughter in his voice I remember so well as a child has been gone for a very long time, I realize.
“Yeah well, here I am.”
When my mom strides into the kitchen, she smiles at me, wraps her arms around my shoulders as best she can on her short little legs, and then she squeezes me tightly. “Hi, sweetheart.”
I squeeze her back. “Hey, Ma.”
“How much time do I have before dinner gets here?” my dad asks and chugs down the rest of his water.
My mom looks at her watch. “Ten minutes or so,” she says, sparing him a glance. But it’s not awkward the way I’d expect it to be. “You have time for a quick shower.”
My father excuses himself to run upstairs.
“You’ll be happy to know,” my mom says, rinsing out my dad’s glass, “that I decided to spend my time baking cookies today instead of worrying about dinner.”
I tilt my head, confused.
“I’ve order dinner from Giovanni’s. It should be here soon.”
My stomach rumbles at the thought, and her smile widens. “I thought you’d like that.” She hands me the two cookie containers. “One’s for Bethany and Jesse. Make sure they get it, okay?”
Surprised, I take them from her. “Sure.”
“I mean it, Nicholas. You,” she says, pointing to one container. “Bethany.” She points to the other one. “Don’t touch.”
“I got it, Ma,” I say with a laugh. “I’ll make sure she gets it. I havesomeself-control, you know.”
“Good.” She smiles at me. “I really enjoyed having them here the other day. I hope Bethany decides to come back for another tutoring session.”
“I do too,” I admit. “She said it helped her a lot. I think she really appreciated it.”
