I picked up my wine glass and swirled the deep ruby liquid. “I never really talk about it. I didn’t have the fantasy childhood that you Ducates most likely had, filled with family vacations and Christmases with presents and traditions and shit.” My mouth twisted bitterly. “It’s not a happy story, Marlena. Not exactly dinner time conversation.”
Lena, realizing I was putting her off, surprisingly didn’t get upset. She simply nodded. “I get that. I don’t mean to pry. I guess I just wanted to know you better. I thought that was what this weekend was about.” She didn’t sound accusing though, only a little sad.
The next course arrived, but I barely paid attention to the venison loin and caramelized cauliflower puree. I picked up my fork and poked at my food. “I was a shy kid,” I offered.
Lena snorted. “You, shy? I don’t believe it.”
“Really, I was. I had a stutter until I was seven. Kids would make fun of me. I was overweight too. I was given the nickname Porky.” When she looked confused, I explained. “Like Porky the Pig. Not only was he fat, but he had a stammer too. Elementary school is rough if you don’t fit a certain mold.”
Marlena’s expression was one of sympathy, which is what I didn’t want. I had always hated people feeling sorry for me. It was bad enough to have a crappy life, but having people pity you because you had a crappy life made it worse.
I shrugged. “But I grew up. Puberty was kinder to me than for a lot of my classmates. I shot up; the weight fell off. I sported some pretty gnarly acne, but I also started going to the school gym every morning before classes. I joined the basketball team. I turned things around. And by the time I graduated, no one remembered I used to be Porky Wyatt.”
I purposefully evaded the topic of my parents. I knew Lena picked up on that, but she didn’t push it.
“Kids suck. I was teased about my bucked teeth. I sucked my thumb until I was five, so I had awful teeth until I was old enough to get braces. My mom was so frustrated with my thumb sucking she would soak it with hot sauce.” She winced.
“I bet Marion made you cookies afterward though. I can’t see her being a firm disciplinarian. She’s too nice for that,” I pointed out. I had always liked Marion Ducate. In the early days of the practice, she would bake muffins every morning and bring them in on a plate for us to eat. When Adam told her I didn’t go home for Thanksgiving, Marion and Tom made sure I had a spot at their table. I had met a lot of people in my life, but few were as naturally kind and giving as the Ducates.
Lena laughed. “It seems you’ve got my mom pegged. She always felt guilty, but she knew how to be firm when she needed to be.”
“I’ve seen her chew Adam out a few times, so I’m not surprised.” I finished my venison. My stomach was starting to feel full, but I was enjoying myself. I loved being in Lena’s company. There was no awkwardness or stall in conversation; it flowed naturally.
“I’m so full,” Lena moaned, rubbing her stomach.
“Well you better make room, we have three more courses,” I reminded her. The waiter brought us small bowls of sorbet to ‘cleanse our pallets.’ “So, tell me, what was Adam like as a kid? An obnoxious overachiever like he is now?”
Lena grinned. “Oh yeah. But worse. He was class president, perfect GPA, captain of the basketball team, Mr. Popularity. If I didn’t love him so much, I would have hated him.”
I made a face. “I get it. Sometimes I want to hate him too.”
Lena licked sorbet from her spoon, and I forced myself not to focus on the slow, seductive movement. Getting an erection in the middle of a restaurant wouldn’t be ideal.
“I remember the first time he mentioned you,” Lena said.
I raised an eyebrow. “Oh yeah? I’m intrigued.”
“He came over to Mom and Dad’s for dinner and he mentioned this crazy brilliant guy he knew from law school who he planned to go into practice with. You were working with your uncle?”
“Bart Quincey. He’s not really my uncle, I just always called him Uncle Bart. He was a good friend of my mom when they were younger. He tried to look out for me, but my dad didn’t like him coming around…” I drifted off. What more was there to say? My dad ruined most things in my life. Or at least tried to.
Lena, once again, didn’t pry. There was something reassuring about the way she let my past exist there in the air between us without digging in. I knew she was curious. I knew she wanted me to explain. But she’d never make me.