he’s meeting like this. As far as I know, this is Joe’s third marriage as well.
I plop on my chair and catch a glimpse of my mom’s pursed lips and raised eyebrow. Her face is silently screaming at me. I’m not trying hard enough to be nice, it’s saying. I should try harder, but right now I have nothing but regrets for coming to this dinner in the first place or ever taking a sip of alcohol at the bachelorette party.
The maids start bringing in the first course. It’s tomato basil soup with mozzarella. Thank God there is food and we are here to actually eat, so I’ll have something to preoccupy myself with. Only I wish I didn’t have to eat something as red and messy as tomato soup at this immaculately white table. Especially not when my sweaty hands are shaking like an old woman’s.
“So, Andrew,” my mom says and I know she feels obligated to keep up the conversation as neither Joe nor I seem eager to fill in the role, “Where are you staying?”
“I’ve been staying with a friend, but I’m looking into some apartments in the area,” he says after patting the corner of his lips with a white cloth napkin. Despite his messed-up past, it looks like he hasn’t forgotten his privileged upbringing and already he is fitting in better at this table than I am.
“Oh,” mom says, a little taken aback, “Is that… um, necessary?” She immediately shoots a look at her husband. She knows she is getting involved in something she has no place in, but she’s one confident woman. She’s made a fortune out of batting her eyelashes and pretending to be innocent. “I thought you were staying with us, Andrew. Joe?”
I turn to her. It always happens. I have no idea which Joe she is referring to as our names sound the same. A second later I realize it makes no sense that she’d be addressing me.
Joe’s face doesn’t flinch at all. From what I can tell, he hasn’t forgiven Andrew one bit. Or perhaps he is ecstatic to see him… Who knows with that man?
“Yes, sure,” he says after a while, “You should stay with us, at least until you find something better.”
Nope, he hasn’t forgiven him.
“Thanks, dad,” Andrew says cheerfully and turns to me, “So, Jo, do you also live here?”
“Actually, no,” I say. He’s been here for five minutes and he’s managed to raise the one most awkward subject that we generally prefer not to discuss. “I have my own place.”
“That’s a shame,” he says, “I’d have loved to see more of you.”
I shoot him a warning look. Magnified through my glasses, I’m sure my eyes can burn holes in people, that’s how much anger and desperation I’ve channeled into my look.
“Her apartment isn’t that far off,” mother chimes in, “I’m sure she’d love to have you over.”
“It really is nothing impressive,” I jump in quickly, “Any place around here is more exciting than my apartment.”
I notice Joe slightly raising his eyebrows. I know what he’s thinking. If any place is more exciting than my apartment, then why do I insist on living there by myself? In a rare moment of openness, he practically begged me to live with them in this enormous monster of an estate. I doubt it’s because of his new-found fatherly feelings towards me. It’s more that he’d take any chance he can to keep me closer, so he can work on persuading me to join his company. With no other prospective children to hand his company over to, I guess I hold the most potential in succeeding him.
“I’m sure it’s not that bad,” Andrew says smugly. He knows how irritating he’s being and seems to be enjoying it. My only hope is that he doesn’t slip and say something about somehow knowing me from before.
Blah, this dinner is the most boring thing I’ve ever had to attend, and at the same time the most humiliating and awkward, and I just can’t wait for it to be over. The conversation keeps trickling on, completely uninspiring, and if I didn’t need to be on edge about
I plop on my chair and catch a glimpse of my mom’s pursed lips and raised eyebrow. Her face is silently screaming at me. I’m not trying hard enough to be nice, it’s saying. I should try harder, but right now I have nothing but regrets for coming to this dinner in the first place or ever taking a sip of alcohol at the bachelorette party.
The maids start bringing in the first course. It’s tomato basil soup with mozzarella. Thank God there is food and we are here to actually eat, so I’ll have something to preoccupy myself with. Only I wish I didn’t have to eat something as red and messy as tomato soup at this immaculately white table. Especially not when my sweaty hands are shaking like an old woman’s.
“So, Andrew,” my mom says and I know she feels obligated to keep up the conversation as neither Joe nor I seem eager to fill in the role, “Where are you staying?”
“I’ve been staying with a friend, but I’m looking into some apartments in the area,” he says after patting the corner of his lips with a white cloth napkin. Despite his messed-up past, it looks like he hasn’t forgotten his privileged upbringing and already he is fitting in better at this table than I am.
“Oh,” mom says, a little taken aback, “Is that… um, necessary?” She immediately shoots a look at her husband. She knows she is getting involved in something she has no place in, but she’s one confident woman. She’s made a fortune out of batting her eyelashes and pretending to be innocent. “I thought you were staying with us, Andrew. Joe?”
I turn to her. It always happens. I have no idea which Joe she is referring to as our names sound the same. A second later I realize it makes no sense that she’d be addressing me.
Joe’s face doesn’t flinch at all. From what I can tell, he hasn’t forgiven Andrew one bit. Or perhaps he is ecstatic to see him… Who knows with that man?
“Yes, sure,” he says after a while, “You should stay with us, at least until you find something better.”
Nope, he hasn’t forgiven him.
“Thanks, dad,” Andrew says cheerfully and turns to me, “So, Jo, do you also live here?”
“Actually, no,” I say. He’s been here for five minutes and he’s managed to raise the one most awkward subject that we generally prefer not to discuss. “I have my own place.”
“That’s a shame,” he says, “I’d have loved to see more of you.”
I shoot him a warning look. Magnified through my glasses, I’m sure my eyes can burn holes in people, that’s how much anger and desperation I’ve channeled into my look.
“Her apartment isn’t that far off,” mother chimes in, “I’m sure she’d love to have you over.”
“It really is nothing impressive,” I jump in quickly, “Any place around here is more exciting than my apartment.”
I notice Joe slightly raising his eyebrows. I know what he’s thinking. If any place is more exciting than my apartment, then why do I insist on living there by myself? In a rare moment of openness, he practically begged me to live with them in this enormous monster of an estate. I doubt it’s because of his new-found fatherly feelings towards me. It’s more that he’d take any chance he can to keep me closer, so he can work on persuading me to join his company. With no other prospective children to hand his company over to, I guess I hold the most potential in succeeding him.
“I’m sure it’s not that bad,” Andrew says smugly. He knows how irritating he’s being and seems to be enjoying it. My only hope is that he doesn’t slip and say something about somehow knowing me from before.
Blah, this dinner is the most boring thing I’ve ever had to attend, and at the same time the most humiliating and awkward, and I just can’t wait for it to be over. The conversation keeps trickling on, completely uninspiring, and if I didn’t need to be on edge about
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