Time for what, I wonder.
A few people nod, and others dab their mouths with their napkins. The kids’ table carries on with whatever they’re doing, but the adults seem to know what’s coming.
Emmeline smiles at everyone, then her eyes land on me, right when Ozzie touches my leg under the table. “You don’t have to add anything, dear. This is a Gwynn family tradition.”
One by one, Carl makes eye contact with each and every one of his offspring around the table. His usually friendly face is solemn. “Now then,” he starts. Oh god, is this where I’m inducted into the cult? I knew they were too likable. Too nice. Too unconditionally loving and fun. They’re all freaks. They’re going to ask me to put on some crazy underwear and drown me in the bathtub; I can feel it.
But no culty things happen. Instead, Carl folds his hands on the table. “Let’s go around and share what we’re all doing to make the world a better place.”
What? What on earth?
Each…individually? I don’t think I heard that right.
Oh, but I did.
One by one, starting with the oldest, Beau, each Gwynn sibling gives an answer.
And holy shit, the answers they give.
As I watch this conversation play out, I have to remember to keep my jaw off the floor. My head is buzzing, but I’m sure I hear one of them mention a project to help a small coal-polluted town restore access to clean water. Another someone talks about a riverside clean-up work day, an adopt-a-highway project. Someone else describes a prison library. There are names mentioned that I’ve only heard in passing on cable news. There’s a remark about a foundation to help foster kids who have aged out of the system acquire housing, and it’s in the millions of dollars. Somebody mentions work on a women’s health care bill. A bill! As in, visiting with a U.S. Congressman personally to talk about some shit I do not understand. Almost everything they’re saying goes straight over my head.
What the hell…is this the fucking Illuminati?
I turn to Ozzie, my face a panicked question mark.
He shakes his head and pats my hand where it rests on my lap.
“It’s fine. Like she said, you don’t have to share.”
Damn straight, I don’t have to share because everyone here knows I’m not doing shit. Not for babies, not for homeless mothers, not for the orangutans. All I’m doing with my life so far is acting out my revenge and then living a lie.
I’m clobbered with a sudden sense of panic. In another minute, I’ll be hyperventilating.
“I’m sorry, I have to go.” I believe I have interrupted Betsy telling a story about a fund that provides comfort animals to veterans. Or something.
I don’t know, it’s all so much. Too much for me.
I don’t know where I’m going, but I have to get out of there and not let anyone see me cry.
Ozzie finds me, moments later, hiding in the pool house, hyperventilating in amongst the pool noodles and lawn chairs.
“Babe,” he says, gently sitting beside me on the concrete floor. “Mila! Hey.” His voice is gentle and calm but laced with deep worry.
He covers my shoulders with one big arm and hauls me to his side tightly. “What’s going on? What happened back there?”
I gather all my strength and say, “You…don’t have to call me babe anymore. I’m done. I can’t do this fake engagement anymore. I am in way over my head.”
He scoffs. “But you heard what my mom said and what I said. You don’t have to share anything.”
I shake my head violently. “It’s not that. It’s too much. All of it.”
Ozzie laughs, still not getting it. “Yeah. I know. The Gwynns are a lot to take. I promise we don’t do this at every family dinner.”
I blurt, “How many more family dinners are you expecting from me?! How much longer are you going to put me through this? How long will you keep calling mebabewhen I’m not your babe?”
Ozzie is quiet for a long time. And then he says, “We can stop right now. We can tell them right now it’s all made up. But I have to tell you the truth since we’re being honest. I have real feelings for you. That kiss before was not nothing. Everything we did last night meant something to me. When I’ve been touching you and kissing you in front of my family, it wasn’t a lie. It killed me. It killed me because I didn’t want it to be a show. I wanted you to have the choice to be close to me, and I knew that you felt that you didn’t. I wanted it to be real, and sometimes I felt like it was.”
“Ozzie.”