“Hey,” Daniel puts his hands on my arms to calm me, but it has to opposite effect. I want to push him away and lash out somehow. “What did I say about building bridges?” he reminds me.
I glare. “Carina is one thing, but my dad…?”
I’ve never told him much about our broken relationship, but Daniel must see I’m genuinely thrown here, because he softens. “I’m sorry,” Daniel adds. “I didn’t mean to ambush you. But, he called me, and then dinner came up…”
My blood freezes. “He called you?” Shit, this can’t be good. “What does he want?” I demand.
“Just to see how you’re doing.” Daniel’s forehead creases with concern. “He says you haven’t returned any of his calls.”
“That’s because he hasn’t made any.” I grit my teeth. Trust my father to act like the concerned parent when it suits him.
“Just, try to get along tonight.” Daniel looks into my eyes. “For me?”
I feel a twist of guilt in my gut. Here I am, getting mad at him for trying to reunite me with my family, when what I’ve done is way, way worse.
“Fine.” I nod. I can suck it up for one night, it’s the least I can do.
Daniel breaks into a smile. “That’s my girl.”
I wait until he’s ahead of me before pulling the vial from my pocket. One, two, three, four. I hesitate a moment, but already my skin is prickling hot under the neckline of my dress. I slip one onto my tongue. God knows I’m going to need it.
* * *
Dinner crawls by at a snail’s pace. Daniel happily chats to Carina and Alexander over the appetizers, about his job-hunt and all the studying he’s doing for the Bar Exam. I sink lower in my seat and silently count how many times Alexander insults my sister, and how many drinks my dad washes down.
Too damn many.
“So how are the wedding plans going?” Daniel asks Alexander, as Carina brings in the main course: some fancy dish with tiny squabs and a drizzle of sauce. “Did you pick a date yet?”
“Don’t ask me.” Alexander snorts. “I’ll be surprised if she tells me. Nothing but those f**king binders, night and day. Chicken or beef? Beige or winter white?” He mimics sarcastically. “Sometimes, I wonder what she needs me for at all. Oh, yeah, that’s right, to foot the bill.”
My dad laughs. “Just as long as this one sticks, right sweetie?”
Carina flushes at the reminder of her two failed engagements. The first guy ditched her for a job in Asia, and she called off the second when he lost his high-paying finance job and they had to give up their apartment.
“Just kidding, sweetheart,” Dad adds, pouring himself another from the bottle of wine stationed by his place. “I’m sure you two will be very happy together.”
My sister sits down, still looking humiliated. I feel a stab of sympathy. This is what my dad does best: the cutting comment, masked as a joke. I learned long ago not to let him get under my skin, but for some reason, my sister keeps hanging on.
“Daniel says you’ve been down at the beach house.” Dad finally turns his attention to me. “I don’t know why you bother, the realtor I spoke to said she can have someone pack everything up and trash it.”
“There’s things there I want to keep.” I clench my fists under the table. “Photographs, books, mum’s stuff. You want to just throw all that away?” My voice is accusing, loud in the dining room.
“I’m sure your dad just means, he doesn’t want you feeling burdened.” Daniel interrupts, answering for him. He rests a hand on my shoulder. “And he’s right. You said yourself, it’s hard seeing everything again.”
“That doesn’t mean it’s not worth saving.” I feel a spike of anger again. “I still don’t understand why we have to sell the place. It’s been in mom’s family for years.”
“Oh god, not this again.” Carina rolls her eyes, reaching for her wine. “We’re been through it. It’s a run-down shack in the middle of nowhere. What’s the point of hanging on to the past?”
“Because it matters.” I cry. “How can you say that? Don’t you care about all the memories of mom?”
“Those aren’t the only memories you have there.” Carina gives me a spiteful smile, and I freeze in panic. She’s going to bring up Emerson right now?
But my dad interrupts before she can say anything. “I know you have an attachment to the place, but it’s time to put away childish things.” he says, patronizing. “The realtor says we can get a good price if we sell now.”
“Actually, she says we’d do better if we wait.” I can’t help but point out. “What’s the rush, anyway? Did you blow another loan skiing in Aspen? Or are the debt collectors finally after you?”
There’s a shocked silence. I don’t usually come right out and say things like this, but I’m on edge right now, and sick of all this dancing around the truth.
“That’s hardly dinner-table conversation,” my dad replies, but his lips are pressed tightly together, and he looks mad as hell.
Good.
“He’s right,” Daniel lets out an awkward laugh. “How about we talk about something else? Alexander, how are things at the office? You said you had a new client.”
Daniel steers them into mindless small-talk again, and I feel him relax beside me, like disaster has been averted. But I sit frozen in my seat, every muscle I have tensed hard and angry. I want to scream at him, or shake him, anything to make him notice the years of silent bullshit lurking in this room. But it’s no use. He just doesn’t see, how supremely f**ked up my family is. Sure, we’re fine on the surface, but everything underneath is broken and rotted.