“You make her feel,” Nick said again, more slowly as if my mother was hard of hearing, “like shit. Her little sister, too. Every time, you get it? Every time. So cut it out. If Evie wants to work in a bakery, she should work in a fucking bakery.”
Mom pressed her lips together. “That’s your idea of dinner table language?”
“It doesn’t matter, since I’m not coming to dinner again,” Nick said. “I’m one of Evie’s bad decisions. We made a bunch of bad decisions last night. We’ll make a lot more. And she’s twenty-five, so it’s none of your business.”
“Oh, my God,” Trish said. “Awesome.”
“You,” Nick said, turning to my little sister. “Stop being snotty. Don’t try out for the volleyball team if you don’t like it. And don’t buy Peter Hadigan’s dirt weed.”
“I’m not snotty,” Trish protested. “And how do you know it’s dirt weed?”
“Because any guy who sells in a high school is a shitbag with dirt weed. Got it?”
“Can we please not discussmarijuanaat the dinner table?” Mom said. She turned her glare on my so-called boyfriend. “You’re right, Nick. You’re not invited to dinner anymore. In fact, I think dinner is over. I’d like you to leave.”
There was a second—just a split second—when I saw that she’d hurt him. But if you didn’t know him as well as I did, you’d never see it. In a blink, it was gone.
“Got it,” he said. He pushed his chair back politely and stood.
“Mom!” I said.
“He insulted me,” Mom replied, “and he’s giving your little sister advice about drugs. And he’s swearing!”
Nick put a hand on my shoulder. “It’s cool,” he said. His don’t-give-a-fuck tone was back. He didn’t even seem angry. “You stay,” he said. “Have a nice dinner.” He left the room.
I stared at my mother. At Trish. At the empty doorway. Should I go storming out after him? Should I stay and let him go, let the situation defuse? I’d never been in this situation before, because this was the situation I’d always dreaded—bringing home a boyfriend who would upset Mom. My nightmare come to life.
And suddenly I realized I was twenty-five, and that was pathetic.
I turned to my mother. “I’ll get him to apologize,” I said, “but he’s not wrong. Youdomake me feel bad.”
“I don’t know what you mean,” Mom said.
“When you talk about what a failure I am,” I said. “How impulsive I am. All of mybad decisions. That was a long time ago, and I’ve tried to do better, but it’s never enough. I know you don’t mean it, but it comes out like you’re disappointed. Like you know that no matter what I do, deep down I’m still going to let you down.” My throat choked closed, but I said the hardest part. “Like no matter what I do, I’m going to let Dad down.”
Mom stared at me. Then she slumped a little in her chair. “Evie,” she said.
“Because that’s what it is, isn’t it?” I said. “The reason I have to get a good job—the right job. The reason I have to date the right guy, and marry him, and have the right kids. None of it is to please you, not really. I don’t measure up because I’m supposed to do all of it to please Dad.”
“I don’t—” Mom’s breath hitched. “I don’t mean it like that. It’s just that if he were here… Evie, I’ve had to do all of it alone.”
There were tears stinging my eyes. I looked at Trish and saw tears in hers, too. Well, this was the family dinner to end all family dinners. Welcome to my dysfunctional family. “You’re not alone,” I told Mom. “You have me. And Trish. And we both turned out pretty good. Dad is gone, Mom. We lost him.”
Mom sniffed and wiped tears from her cheeks with her napkin. “You know I don’t mean it,” she said. “I don’t mean—I love you both. He would love you both.” She sighed. “Oh, my gosh, what a dinner this is. It’s a disaster.” She was right. The Nick effect, I thought. But Mom was a good person—the best person, really, deep down—and she straightened her spine and lifted her chin. “Okay,” she said. “Go get Nick. I want to talk to him. We’ll start over.”
That was when I remembered that we’d come here in my car. Had he left? He didn’t have a ride. I pushed my chair back and stood. “Shit,” I said, swearing in front of my mother for the first time in my life. “I have to find him.”
“Yeah, go find him,” Trish said. “I like him.”
I was already out the dining room door. He wasn’t anywhere else in the house, so he must have left. I walked down the driveway, looked up and down the road. Nothing. My car was still there, the keys in my pocket.
Damn it, where did he go? Did he walk? Which way? Was he going to walk all the way home? I pictured him walking out the door and away, all alone. Kicked out of family dinner. He’d kind of deserved it, but that didn’t make me like the picture any more.
I pulled out my phone and texted him.Where are you?
But half an hour later, when I got in my car and left after hugging my mother and my sister, he still hadn’t answered.
TWENTY-ONE