Page 28 of For the Plot
Robyn, my youngest sister, was glaring at him from the end of the couch closest to him, her arms crossed over her chest. Her dark brown hair was cut in a shaggy bob right at her chin, and her eyes were a lighter shade of blue than mine, almost icy in color, framed by eyeliner so sharp it would put Taylor Swift to shame.
She was the shortest of the family as well, not stick-thin but not fat either, and her left arm was covered in a sleeve tattoo, just as eclectic as her personality. She had just begun her third year of community college, taking the most random assortment of classes because she couldn’t decide what she wanted to major in.
Ezra was on the other end of the couch, his unruly dark brown curls spilling around his face, hiding his bright green eyes. Hecurrently had a full, thick beard going. He was the biggest of us all, tall and fat over muscles, built like a linebacker, with his entire upper body from shoulders to hips covered in tattoos. He was working as a pastry sous chef at a nice restaurant in LA, but his dream was to own a bakery of his own someday.
He had his nose buried in what looked to be a historical romance book. Noah read a romance every now and then, but Ezra was my only other sibling who enjoyed romance books as much as I did. We'd chat about them often, giving each other recommendations.
None of them noticed when I entered. After a moment, I finally said, “What a warm welcome from my loving family.”
They finally all looked up, and a chaotic cacophony of noise greeted me as they all got up to embrace me. I laughed and hugged them each back in turn, an ache settling in my chest as I realized just how much I had been missing them without noticing.
I left them in the living room to greet my parents where they were cooking in the kitchen. The moment Mom saw me, she dropped what she was doing to scoop me in her arms. She squeezed me tightly, and I closed my eyes against the tears that suddenly wanted to swell. Sometimes a hug from her was just what I didn’t realize I needed.
She pulled back, gripping me by the shoulders as she swept her eyes over me. “Oh, sweet girl, it’s been too long!”
“I know.” I smiled sheepishly. “I’ve been so caught up in this draft I haven’t been very good at peopling lately.”
“We’re just glad you could make it this week, bug,” Dad said as he came up to me, planting a kiss on my forehead before giving me a tight hug himself.
I cleared my throat, annoyed with how easily I got emotional. It had only been a few weeks since I’d seen them. I needed to get a grip. “So, what's for dinner?” I asked.
“It’s your lucky night, we’re making your favorite.” Mom winked at me, going back to stir the soup bubbling on the stove.
“Omg, it’s been ages since I've had French onion.” I leaned over the pot, taking in a deep sniff and moaning at the deliciously rich aroma. I looked over at the other pan on the stove, seeing one of my dad’s famous homemade grilled cheese sandwiches crisping up. My mouth watered at the combination of smells, my stomach rumbled, and I realized just how hungry I was. Had I forgotten to eat all day again? Damn, I really needed to stop doing that. My body never gave me hunger cues until I was past hungry.
“It’s almost ready. Would you set the table, bug?” Dad asked as he flipped the sandwich over, revealing the crispy golden brown of the other side. The trick was homemade garlic butter and a sprinkling of parmesan cheese on the outside. I couldn’twaitto shove one in my mouth.
“When is Noah getting here?” I asked as I walked over to the dish cabinet, pulling out seven plates and bowls.
“She’s working late tonight, so she told us to get started without her,” Mom responded.
“That sounds about right,” I laughed as I carried the dishes out of the kitchen. Noah was 100% a workaholic, and we had all tried getting on her about having a better work-life balance for years now. But having a work-life balance in the medical field was practically unheard of.
We were twins, but Noah had graduated high school a year before me, having skipped a grade in elementary school. She was autistic and incredibly smart. Very much the overachieving eldest daughter syndrome. She’d also completed her undergrad in just three years, and was in her last year of residency at twenty-six.
I finished setting the round dining room table, and headed back for the silverware we only ever used for family dinner night.Growing up, we’d had a very casual approach to dinner, usually eating in the living room while watching something together as a family. With an ADHD mother, autistic father, and a litter of neurodivergent children, chaotic routines were the norm in our house.
“Come get your drinks, delinquents!" I yelled out to the living room, and was met with a chorus of rebuttals, the loudest from Robyn. Heading back into the kitchen to get my own glass of water, I took the dish piled with the sandwiches Dad pulled from the oven where they had been keeping warm while he made all seven.
Once we were all settled at the table, one chair left open for Noah, we descended into the familiar madness of our very loud family dinners, multiple conversations happening over one another. I didn’t really contribute, content to quietly eat my food, basking in the familiarity of it all.
Not long after, Noah entered the house with a shouted, “Honey, I’m home!” She skipped greeting everyone individually and dove right into eating, tearing into her food and stuffing her face. My guess was she hadn’t eaten since before her shift. The conversations all ended when Mom let out a piercing whistle to get our attention, Dad and Ezra both cringing at the loud noise.
“You know the drill,” she said once she had our attention. Robyn and Alex both groaned. “Time for Highs and Lows!”
Highs and Lows was a thing we’d been doing my entire life, something Mom grew up doing with her family. It was pretty self-explanatory—everyone said their highest point of the day, and their lowest.
“I’ll get us started.” She smiled brightly, looking around at everyone. “My high today is of course having all my lovely children in the same room enjoying a meal together!” She beamed at us, gripping Dad’s hand on the table between them.
They said they got a round dining room table because they didn’t believe in hierarchy, but I was pretty sure it was just so they could be touching each other during the meal rather than sitting at opposite ends of the table. They were disgustingly in love, always wanting to be touching each other in some way. It was both sweet and nauseating, but they had definitely set the all of our standards high for future romantic partners.
“And hmm… my low for the day would be that my plant is starting to die again.” All of the siblings snickered at that. Mom wished desperately to be a plant person, but every plant she brought home died not long after. She kept trying though, nothing if not persistent and stubborn, despite her black thumb. Dad lifted her hand, giving it a reassuring kiss.
“I’ll go next,” Ezra volunteered. “My high today was that the restaurant called to let me know the pastry chef will be out of town for a month, and they're having me fill in!” We all issued our congratulations. “My low would be that it’s only a month.”
Ezra was only twenty-three, which was young even for a sous chef, but he’d started pastry school in night classes during his senior year of high school. Baking had been an obsession of his since he was old enough to talk and asked our mom to teach him how to bake his favorite cookies. There had been no looking back since that first moment.
“Well, my high is the same as your mother’s,” Dad chimed in, eyes crinkling in the corners. “My low is…” he trailed off, contemplating his answer. “Hmm. It's been a good day so I don’t think I have one. Alex?”
