by Emma Doherty
My mom frowns at the doorway to the hall; clearly she’s not expecting anyone, and she hurries out of the kitchen to see who’s here.
The baby starts pulling at my hair, and I’m just trying to detangle myself from his tight grip when I hear footsteps behind me and turn around.
My stomach drops through the floor when I see Brett standing there beside my mom.
“A friend of yours, Abigail,” my mom says.
Brett smiles at me. “Hey.”
“What are you doing here?” I ask quickly, and I hear a tut of disapproval from my sister at my rude greeting.
Brett either doesn’t care about my greeting or chooses to ignore it because a smirk covers his face. “You invited me to dinner, remember? Wanted me to meet your dad.”
My body turns slightly cold as I realize what this is. I haven’t followed through with his request to introduce him to my father despite him mentioning it a couple of times now, he’s refusing to be put off by attempts to introduce him to someone else at his firm, and I told him earlier this week that my dad was going to be home this weekend.
I glance to my mom, but I can’t read her face. She’s not exactly welcoming him into the house with arms wide open, but looking at her, I can’t tell if she’s annoyed.
Brett’s eyes are dancing with a sort of mischievous victory like he thinks he’s tricked me, but I can’t return his smile as my stomach twists when I realize he’s about to see my parents in all their messed-up glory and I won’t be able to hide from it or pretend they’re not how they are.
Brett turns to my mom and holds out the flowers in his hand. “These are for you, Mrs. Baker.” He looks over at me and gives me a conspiratorial wink, like he’s remembering what I told him about showing up somewhere new with a gift.
My mom looks at him like he’s just handed her a soiled diaper, and her lip curls in distaste as she takes in the small bouquet of carnations and chrysanthemums, which are still in the plastic wrapping of whichever gas station he picked them up from. “Oh. How…” She pauses, making it perfectly clear to everyone in the room what she thinks of them. “Charming.”
An awkward silence settles over us as my mother turns away from him and places them on the counter behind her. Brett’s eyes dart to me, for the first time uncertain, and I hate my mom in this moment for making him feel uncomfortable.
“Hey, I’m Ellie, Abbie’s sister.” Ellie steps forward and shakes Brett’s hand warmly. “It’s good to meet you. You go to school with Abs?” I feel a rush of love for her trying to make him feel welcome.
“Abs?” He looks over at me, and he’s back to smirking. “Yeah, I go to school with Abs.”
My mom tuts from behind them. “Ellie, you know I don’t like you calling your sister that.”
Ellie rolls her eyes and sends Brett a conspiratorial wink before announcing that she’s going to put Eric Jr. down in the cot we keep in Ellie’s old bedroom before we start dinner. They’re both staying here tonight. I’m trying not to think there’s anything weird about that even though I know Eric is back at their house.
At the moment, I’m just grateful I have one family member here who can act like a normal human being.
Brett walks toward me, and despite how nervous I am about him being here, I can’t help but feel a slight flutter at the sight of him. He’s clearly made an effort with dark jeans and a crisp white shirt and has even switched out his sneakers for dark shoes.
He looks handsome.
It’s honestly beyond me how I went nearly four years without knowing who he was.
“Thought I’d invite myself,” he tells me quietly, a smile playing on his lips, “since you seem to have forgotten about our deal.”
Our deal…to meet my father.
The thought of it makes me feel ill.
“I, um…I don’t…I think…let’s go out for dinner. My treat.”
He frowns just as my mom appears at my side. “Abigail, may I have a word?”
I nod and follow her away from Brett as she leads me out into the hallway.
“Who is that young man?”
“Brett Sanderson. He goes to school with me.”
“And you invited him here?”
I don’t want to sell Brett out because I honestly wouldn’t put it past her to tell him to leave.
I sigh. “He’s been helping me study, helping me get my grades up so I can graduate.”
To anyone else’s mother, this would be an admirable thing to do, but my mom doesn’t think my education is important. “So he thinks that gives him the right to show up here? He obviously thinks he’s welcome.”
“He’s interested in law. He wants to meet dad.”
She doesn’t even bat an eye at that piece of information. “I don’t like the way he’s looking at you.”
“What do you mean?”
“You know what I mean.”
Brett’s looking at me?
“Mom, stop.”
“Where’s he from? Who are his parents?”
“Mom, seriously, can you not? He’s the smartest kid in our school. He has a full ride to Harvard because he’s so smart.”
She doesn’t look even the slightest bit impressed.
“Where does he live?”
I’m tempted not to tell her, not wanting to fuel what I know will be her prejudices.
“Abigail?”
“His family lives near Hammerton.”
She scoffs just like I knew she would, her blatant and complete snobbery coming out in full force at the mention of the part of town that is considered much rougher than ours.
“His family is really nice, actually,” I bite out. “His mom is really friendly.”
“You’ve been going over to his house?!”
Well that was a mistake.
“What does his mom do?”
I bite my lip. I don’t give a damn that she cleans houses, but I’m not about to tell my mom that because I can’t stand the thought of what her reaction would be.
“You’re not going to tell me?” She places her hands on her hips, and I can’t even begin to handle her when she’s like this.
Luckily, Ellie comes down the stairs, looking between us warily, clearly sensing the tension. “What are you doing? Where’s Brett?”
I nod toward the kitchen and turn away from my mom and the look on her face as I follow Ellie back in, where she immediately walks up to Brett to ask him about his plans after graduation and where he’s going to college. I stand a couple of yards away, grateful that she’s making up for my mom’s lack of manners but undoubtedly nervous about how my dad’s going to be with Brett here.
It could go one of two ways. He could be in full-on schmoozing mode, polite and interesting and charismatic, or he could be rude, hostile, and downright terrifying.
The problem is that I never know which way it’s going to go.
My mom starts making a racket in the kitchen, banging pots and pans around as she drains some spaghetti and pulls some garlic bread out of the oven. Since Dad is home, it’s one of the few times she cooks.
It’s hard not to see that she’s being openly rude, and I see Brett watching her before his eyes dart to mine, looking confused. I don’t blame him. I’m sure his parents wouldn’t dream of making someone feel unwelcome in their home.
Oh god, I wish he weren’t here.
I wish he didn’t have to see what it can actually be like here.
“Mom, shall I call Dad?” Ellie asks, moving toward the door. My dad’s been locked up in his study since he got back this afternoon. I saw him briefly in the kitchen to say hi before he disappeared again for the rest of the day. “Is it almost ready?”
She nods as she places the Bolognese into a serving bowl then picks up a salad bowl and exits the kitchen, walking past our perfectly adequate kitchen table and instead going into the formal dining room and placing the food bowls in there.
It’s just a show so Brett can be more impressed with the house and the formality. She’s pro
bably hoping he’ll realize he’s out of his league here—whatever that means.
I hate her so much right now.
I turn to Brett, who’s already watching me. “Are you okay?”
I nod, forcing a smile. “Yeah, come on. Let’s go eat.”
I lead him through to the dining room and nod to indicate the chair he should take, and we all sit down as Ellie enters, followed by my dad.
His eyes immediately find Brett, and a smile breaks out across his face. Ellie nods at me and I heave a sigh of relief, because I know she’s pre-warned Dad that he’s here and he’s decided to play nice.
He strides straight over to Brett, holding out his hand to shake. “Hello, there, Brett is it?”
Brett nods, standing up out of his seat and returning the handshake. “Yes, sir. Brett Sanderson. Nice to meet you.”
My mom’s jaw tenses at their greeting, but she doesn’t say anything. Now that my dad’s being nice to him, I know she won’t be so rude. She never goes against my dad. She always follows his lead.
“Good to meet you, son,” my dad replies, clapping him on the back before rounding him to take his seat at the head of the table and pouring himself a glass of wine from the open bottle my mom has placed there. He doesn’t bother to pour her a glass, instead reaching for the spaghetti, and I watch as my mom pours her own.
I glance at Ellie, and when she cocks her head toward the food, I realize what she’s saying. I need to offer Brett some food. Maybe this will just be a quick meal, and the sooner we eat, the sooner he can leave. Ellie offers me a reassuring smile, and I’m so relieved she’s here. This is pretty alien territory for both of us. We’ve rarely had people over to the house when my dad’s around; we always avoided it as children.
I reach for the bowl of salad and pass it over to Brett, watching as he heaps it onto his plate before returning it back to me.
I add some salad to my own plate and hold it out to my sister.
“Take more of that, Abigail,” my mom says. “You know you’ve put on a little weight. No carbs for you.”
I pause, dumbfounded for a second. I had put on weight, but I’ve been so careful over the last couple of weeks and I know I’ve lost it, but here she is still calling me out in front of everyone. I swallow back a retort and don’t argue as I add more salad to my plate without looking at anybody else.
“So, you’re a friend on Abigail’s from school?” my dad asks, handing the bowl of spaghetti to Brett so he can serve himself some.
“Yes, sir.”
There’s an awkward silence that I feel like I should fill.
I clear my throat. “Brett is interested in law, Dad. He’s considering studying it after college.”
My dad is adding salad to his plate and doesn’t look up as he heaps dressing on top of it. “Oh yes?”
“Yeah, he’s the smartest kid in our class. Killed it on his SATS, was in a bunch of clubs throughout high school, is really well respected by all the teachers—well, by everyone, really—and is going to Harvard in the fall.”
That does make my dad look up. “Really?”
Brett doesn’t answer immediately, and I can see out of the corner of his eye that he’s turned his head to look at me, but I concentrate on staring at my plate. He probably didn’t know I knew all that about him. He probably didn’t think I was capable of saying nice things about him.
“Brett?” My dad’s voice has grown sharper at the lack of response from Brett.
“Sorry, yes, sir. I’m really look forward to the new challenges college will bring.”
“Harvard, huh?”
Brett nods.
“Expensive place.”
Brett blushes slightly, and I hate my dad for assuming that’s an issue for him. “I have a scholarship, a full ride.”
The same information that made my mom turn up her nose impresses my dad, because he knows how intelligent Brett must be to get a full ride, and not even just intelligent—it shows he’s focused and determined.
“And you’re interested in law?”
“Yes, sir. I’m trying to look ahead and think about my future, and I’d love to ask you some questions about your area of law and your journey of how you set up your own practice.”
My dad eyes him for a second, not saying anything, and my heart thuds nervously in my chest. I wish I could read my dad, wish just for once I knew what he was thinking, but I never have been able to tell.
Eventually my father nods, as though confirming something, and then he reaches into the breast pocket of his shirt and pulls out a business card, which he hands over to Brett. “Get in touch with my secretary, and we can set up a time for you to come down to the offices and see how we run things. I can answer any questions you have, and you can see how things go day to day.”
Brett stares in amazement at the card, like it’s a golden ticket or something. “Thank you. Thank you so much, Mr. Baker.”
I’m so thankful in this moment that my dad is being helpful and generous with his time; I could cry with relief. “Thanks, Dad.” My voice is quiet, but he hears me and turns his attention to me.
“Abigail, remind me where you’re going to go to college?”
It’s like a punch in the face because he knows I haven’t decided on a college yet. For God’s sake, I’m probably not going to graduate high school, and I’d be lucky if any college at all accepted me into a program. He knows that; I know he knows I’m in trouble at school because Mom sent him an email about it and copied me on it. He didn’t bother to reply, at least not to me.
“Dad!” Ellie snaps, pissed off on my behalf.
“It’s a perfectly legitimate question,” he replies, putting his fork down and looking at me with his steady gaze. “What are you going to do next year?”
That’s when I get it. My dad’s not in a good mood today and being the better version of himself. He’s just not going to take it out on Brett because he’s impressed him, and he doesn’t need to take it out on Brett, not when I’m here and will make a perfectly good target.
“You know,” my dad says to Brett, leaning over toward him like he’s telling him a secret, “I was at the top of my class too, third in my class in law school.” He shakes his head at the memory like it’s something that still bothers him, and I know it does since he’s so fiercely competitive. “So can you imagine my embarrassment when I find out that my daughter, my child who has had every privilege and advantage in life, might not graduate from high school.”
Brett stares back at him, stunned into silence.
“I mean, complete idiots graduate from high school. Delinquents, criminals—they all graduate all the time, and yet my daughter can’t manage that.”
Tears prick the backs of my eyes, and I look away.
“Dad,” Ellie hisses. “Stop it.”
“Can you imagine my embarrassment, Brett? When my partners and associates ask about her and I have to tell them about her cheerleading because I can’t tell them which college she’s going to because she’s not going? When they ask what she wants to be in the future and I have to laugh and say ‘Who knows?’ because actually, who does know? I’m pretty certain I’ll be paying for her for the rest of my life.”
There’s total silence around me, and when I dare to look at my sister, she’s staring at my dad with pure fury on her face, her hands clenched into fists.
I look at my mom, and she just looks bored.
“Um, well…actually…she’s been…” Brett’s stammering voice cuts through the silence, and if I wasn’t so completely mortified, I might actually be amazed that he’s capable of sounding anything but entirely confident. “We’ve been studying together, and I actually think she’s going to be…um…able to turn it around in time for graduation. She’ll graduate.”
I have no idea if he actually believes that or not, but I’m grateful to him for sticking up for me.
My dad scoffs. “Studying together? I can’t imagine Abigail is taking the same classes you are, Brett. Surely yo
u’d have to dumb your studies down for her?”
I blink. I don’t know why I’m surprised, really. I know perfectly well how my dad is capable of behaving.
“Oh, wait. Stop.” He holds up his hand to pause the conversation even though nobody else is talking. “You’re tutoring her, aren’t you? That’s probably it.”
I don’t say anything.
“Of course you are. Is she paying you?” He laughs humourlessly. “Or am I paying you, more to the point?”
“No, she’s not paying me anything.”
In this moment, I appreciate the lie.
He doesn’t say anything for a minute and I think he’s done humiliating me, but then he laughs. “Is she paying you in other ways? She is her mother’s daughter, after all.”
In other ways? What exactly is he implying?
I think I understand at the exact same moment Brett does, and he starts shaking his head furiously. “No, no, of course not.”
“Dad! Geez, I’m not like that.”
He rolls his eyes at Brett. “She makes it sound like I’m being unreasonable and didn’t come home one day when she was a sophomore to hear her having sex with that old boyfriend of hers.”
I feel like I’ve been slapped across the face.
I can’t believe he’s saying that. I can’t believe he’s humiliating me like this.
“Can you believe that? Well, she was sixteen—I suppose we were all up to that at that age, and I guess that’s the only way she could keep the Mitchell boy for so long.” He glances over at me. “He clearly wasn’t sticking around for your personality.”
I want to vomit. I can’t believe he’s saying this to me. Here. Right now. In front of Brett.
I hate him.
“Stop it, Dad,” Ellie snaps. “That is so inappropriate. You don’t know anything about her old relationship, probably because you’ve never asked. And why the hell would she tell you when you treat her like this?”
“Be quiet, Eleanor.”
I look at my mom, but she still doesn’t say anything, still just sits there with that same vacant look on her face as she lets my dad trash me.
My own father is insinuating that I sleep with people to get what I want, and even worse, he insulted my mother too, to her face, implying that’s what she does—did?—with him.
