Page 144 of Something Rad
“Right, I apologize, sir,” Robbie grumbles. He attempts to run a hand through his hair, but it doesn’t have the same effect with the way he has it sealed in place today. “This is my girlfriend.”
“Such a treat to see you again, Sara Beth,” Steven says, raising his wine glass in my direction. The smile he flashes me makes my skin crawl, but I force my own to my face, crossing my arms over my chest.
“Nice to see you as well,” I say. “Thankfully, this time, it’s not because I was lucky enough to have any exploding objects near my eyeball today.”
Nobody laughs at my attempt at a joke. The only response I get is a steady exhale and a shake of the head from Robbie.
Great.
Fortunately, the kitchen timer chooses now to go off and save me from my spotlight of embarrassment.
“Ah, that’ll be the turkey,” Mrs. Summers says. “Robbie, if you could just grab that out of the oven?”
“Sure, Mom,” he agrees.
“Everything else is already on the table in the dining room,” she continues. “Let’s go ahead and take our seats. I’ll grab another bottle of wine.”
I try my best to hang back and wait for Robbie to handle the turkey, but his mother shoos me into the dining room as soon as she has another bottle of red in hand. I make my way to the seat she points at when I look confused, pulling the chair out as slowly as possible, not wanting to sit down until Robbie does for some reason. I’m simply not slow enough, however, settling into my seat right as Robbie makes his way through the doorway carrying a platter with a massive turkey on it.
“So, Sara Beth,” Steven begins, instantly making my spine steel, “not that we’re not thrilled to have you here, but, can I ask, how does one find themselves without plans on Thanksgiving?”
My mouth falls open at the bluntness of his unexpected question. “Oh– Well, I wouldn’t say I don’t have plans. They’re just not until later.” Steven and Janet raise a singular brow practically in sync with one another. “It’s just– My Mom. She always works on Thanksgiving.”
Robbie finally makes it to the table, balancing the heavy platter in his hands.
“Oh, well isn’t that commendable?” Mrs. Summers speaks up. “Is she a doctor?”
“Eh…no,” I mutter. “She’s a waitress.”
I think Robbie’s mom nearly chokes on her wine.
“A waitress, you say?” Robbie’s father asks.
“Your mom’s awaitress?” Steven adds.
Suddenly, the turkey platter is slammed down onto the table, rattling every dish and wine glass sitting on it. Six heads turn in Robbie’s direction. “That’s what she said, isn’t it?” he snaps.
“Hey, I was just making sure I heard her correctly,” Steven retorts.
“Yeah?” Robbie questions. “Are you due for a hearing check? Do you need me to bring you to the doctor?”
“Enough, Robert,” Mr. Summers states. “Sit down.”
Robbie’s fists clench at his side as he throws one more heated look in his brother’s direction before taking his seat next to me.
“Sara Beth, what’s your mother’s name?” Mrs. Summers asks.
“Sherri Cooper,” I tell her.
“Ah,” she sighs, exchanging a look with Robbie’s father. “Formerly Sherri Rogers?”
“Yes…that’s her,” I reply hesitantly.
“Hmmm,” Robbie’s mother hums.
“Do you two know her?” I ask.
“Oh, we certainly remember Sherri from high school, don’t we, Donna?” Mr. Summers asks his wife.
