Page 24 of Love is Angry

Laura scoffs, shaking her head slowly. “Because once you leave this place, Rhue will still have to show his face around here, at some point. Maybe he’ll want to have dinner here. Or bring a date. How will he do that after what you just pulled with that poor waiter?”

“And what was that, exactly?”

“A shitbag circus act,” I say, leaning back into my chair while I keep my hands busy with tearing a focaccia slice into smaller pieces. I pop one into my mouth and start chewing, allowing the rosemary and garlic butter to melt onto my tongue while I appreciate an authentic, clearly handmade snack. So what if the waiter who served me faked an accent? That is just a dumbass hill to die on. “I expected more from a guy with your pull in Congress.”

He gives me a rotten, almost hateful look. “What do you know about my pull in Congress, huh?” He tries to laugh in my face, as if I’m just an idiot carrying his name and genes. “Youdon’t have a clue about who I am and what I do. Not for lack of trying, either. More than once, I have asked you to join me. Every damn time, you said no. You like hockey.” He says that last part with a nasal inflexion, purely to make me sound whiney.

“Laura would have been more than happy to be your right hand,” I say, narrowing my eyes at him. Alas, it’s not a painful blow. Not to this guy.

“That ship has sailed,” she mumbles, but still we hear her loud and clear.

“A woman has no place in politics,” Dad replies, pulling gasps from both of his progenies. “My money was always on you, Rhue. You know that.”

Laura bites the inside of her cheek. She does that when she’s holding certain reactions or harsh words back. But there’s something in her eyes that tell me she can’t bite her cheeks, or her tongue for much longer.

“I can see why your golf buddies like you so much,” she says, not hiding her disgust. “But don’t worry, Dad, if I ever get into politics, it won’t be to follow in your footsteps. You’re not fit to be a role model. If I ever get into politics, I will run against and unseat one of your friends. I will tear your filthy legacy down, bit by bit.”

It makes Dad laugh mockingly, but I’m impressed. I’ve never heard that kind of fire in Laura’s voice before. This is new and all kinds of wonderful because it tells me my sister has plenty of fight left in her, in spite of her difficult circumstances.

“Yuck it up,” she adds. “The day will come when you’ll regret treating me like this.”

“I honestly hope you prove me wrong,” Dad replies. “But I doubt it. And the fact that you’re sitting in a wheelchair just makes my point for me. You will never have a career in politics, Laura. You’re damaged goods. Suicidal. A spoiled brat who cried for attention and ruined herself in the process. The press willhave a field day with you. Your potential opponents will eat you alive. I suggest you consider other paths in life. You’re still two years away from graduating high school. Don’t rush.”

Laura quivers in her wheelchair. There is so much she would like to tell him. None of it good, of course. Deep down, she’s just like me. We’re bound to him by blood, and that’s about it. This is a public place, however. Too many people would see, and neither Laura nor I would survive the downfall if we embarrass Dad in front of anyone. I may be a prick, but even I know not to poke the bear.

“Dad, did I mention that I bumped into Madison Willis?” I ask with such innocence that he doesn’t even see the blow coming until it’s too late. For a moment, he stares at me with a mixture of shock and disbelief. I smirk at him. “I guess that’s one name you didn’t think you’d hear about tonight.”

“Where?” he asks, and it’s my turn to chuckle, while Laura pulls herself together and gives me a knowing look. She knows I’m doing this to pull the conversation away from her.

“I thought you two were tight. She never sent you postcards?” I reply.

A muscle ticks furiously in his square jaw. There’s a hint of stubble shadowing his olive skin.

“Where did you see her?” he asks again, and I know I’ll have to answer before he reaches across the table and slaps me silly.

The Madison topic is still a touchy one for the big guy. Good. He deserves a good grilling over that whore.

“They’re taking the same classes,” Laura interjects with a tiny, devious smile. “Anthropology, that is, for a major. Different minors, but they do meet quite often. How many courses do you have in common again, Rhue?”

“Not sure. I’d say sixty percent of all subjects and half of the seminars.” I mirror her expression as we both look at our father.

For the first time tonight, he’s the one who transforms into a wounded animal. This is a good moment for us to kick back and change the subject again, so that he might process what he has just learned.

I’m excited when the starters reach our table.

“Oh, my crostini!” I almost squeal like a little girl, relishing the scowl of discomfort on my father’s face.

I dig in straight away, while Laura leads the conversation elsewhere. We talk junior year and potentially useful extracurricular activities for her to get involved in even if she hasn’t settled on a college, yet. We talk Rochester gossip and pretty much anything else that isn’t directly related to Dad, while he scarfs down his appetizer and simultaneously stares at me with a most murderous glare.

“The food here is fantastic,” I say after a few minutes’ worth of silence. “I mean, the starter alone is worth coming back for. Here’s to hoping Ted won’t hold a grudge against me once you’re gone,” I tell Dad. “I’ll probably have to tip him. Considerably. But I think we’ll make do.”

“I’ll take care of Madison,” he replies, worryingly calm. The atmosphere changes inside the restaurant—or maybe Laura and I are simply super receptive to our father’s mood shifts. His rage is often silent but potentially deadly and always practically palpable. “Anthropology like you, you said?”

“You’re staying away from her,” I say, keeping my eyes on the last bit of crostini in my plate. If I look at him now, he’ll know I’m bluffing. “You’re going to forget I even mentioned her name.”

“Excuse me?”

“She got into Cornell on her own. Her father is proud and happy. She’s doing something amazing, and you’re not going to ruin it for her,” Laura says.

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