Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 70570 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 353(@200wpm)___ 282(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70570 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 353(@200wpm)___ 282(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
But when I’m not right with my dad, I don’t feel right at all, no matter what I tell myself.
So after swallowing my bite of egg—yes, they really are delicious, even by my unfairly high standards—I set down my fork and decide to talk to him. The others are apparently busy chatting about cocaine and cookies, anyway. “Dad, do you know yet what you’d like me to do tonight to help with the rehearsal dinner?”
He picks up his glass of orange juice and gazes at it in thought. “I suppose just the usual will be enough.”
A bit vague. I’ve filled many roles. “Organizing the staff, you mean? Or do you want me to join them in the back to—”
“You are great at organizing the staff when we host events at the restaurant,” he says lightly, still surveying his orange juice. “I think we will need someone to keep them on-time, dishes out and dishes in. You’re good with management.”
The conversation is too stiff, too formal. “Dad, I—”
“Yes, son?” he asks, cutting me off, his voice a touch tight as he at last looks at me. His eyes are like two beads of unfeeling iron. Nothing penetrates them.
Before I can say anything: “Now what’s this? No, no,” cuts in Nadine, “I hear you two gabbin’ down there. Malcolm, you are not being put to work tonight nor will you be run ragged tomorrow at the wedding. Sorry, Mario, but I’m puttin’ my high heel down.”
My dad glances down the table at her, confused. “Why?”
“Because Malcolm will be attending the rehearsal dinner as well as the wedding.” She smiles at me, shoots a wink, then says, “I already set up your plus-one to both events as well. He’ll pick you up from here this evening and take you himself.”
I open my mouth, stunned. “Wh-What …?”
“After your jolly time on the town yesterday …” She clicks her tongue happily. “Cole is very much looking forward to seeing your sweet face again. Sorry, Mario,” she says again with a swift shake of her head, “but your darling son is mine ‘til Christmas. I’m seein’ to his eternal happiness one way or another.”
I clear my throat. “I appreciate it, Nadine, but really I—”
“That’s so wonderful of you, Nadine,” says my father, talking over me. I stare at him, baffled. “I’ve been trying to get my son out of his shell for years, and here you go, making it seem as natural as apple pie. Damn shame I couldn’t do it myself. That settles it.” He gives a cheery smile which appears suspiciously hollow. “You have your assignment for the night, son: it’s to spend it with your plus-one. You worked hard helping us get to this point, preparing and working for the weeks leading up to this event. Now you can relax and enjoy the wedding festivities with this handsome Cole fellow.”
I narrow my eyes. “Dad.”
“Oh, dang it,” exclaims Nadine as she whips out her phone. “I forgot to get in touch with Lance about that adjustment we need made on Jimmy’s tuxedo color. I despise makin’ big changes so last minute, but with the new florist—thank you, Mario—we need a few wardrobe coloration alterations. ‘Wardrobe coloration alterations …’” She laughs at herself and shakes her head. “Phew, Lance is gonna kill me dead, and then murder me if that don’t work. Hey, Lance?” she greets him, slapping the phone to her ear, then rises from the table and heads out to the side patio.
My dad meets my eyes across our breakfast plates.
I meet his.
Something feels significant about the way he and I are looking at one another in total silence. There’s something we’re saying to each other without saying anything at all.
“I really don’t have to be with Cole the whole time,” I tell him suddenly. “I can still help out if you need it. I know how important family presence is to you at this wedding.”
“It’s alright, son.” There’s sincerity in his voice. He smiles in a strange, distant way that looks satisfied on the surface.
Only on the surface. That’s all he has to say?
I’m about to reply when my dad rises abruptly from the table and sees himself off. Nadine continues talking on the phone just out on the covered side patio, the door left open and letting in the sound of the thunderstorm and her muffled words, as Jacky-Ann starts cleaning up the table. Paul glances at me and offers a subtle smile, making me wonder if my dad said something to him.
I decide not to ask.
After everything’s cleaned up, Jacky-Ann stops me on my way up the stairs. “Malcolm, just letting you know I ran a quick load of laundry this morning, including some of yours and your father’s clothes. I left what I thought was yours on your bed.”
“Thanks,” I tell her, then head the rest of the way upstairs.