Page 110 of Things I Read About
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“Nate. Before you go, grab a plate with us,” Shep calls out. “I want to talk to you about the Smart Home.”
I turn where I’ve been frozen, caught in the weird Bermuda Triangle type trap that happens when my sisters—all but Sam—stare at me at once.
Nate must’ve rushed after me, but now we’re both just standing here, at the edge of the living room, being ogled.
“Yeah, Nate, come get something, this barbecue is the absolute best,” my dad adds.
My eyes were already stinging, and the feeling grows worse with each second. Seeing my family so ready to take Nate in, to chat him up, and of course, feed him—the love language of the south.
“You, too, Sal.” Dad offers me a small smile. “We already prayed and started without you. You seemed… busy.”
Susan pulls her eyes from me to give Dad a death glare. Clearly, they were all trying to listen to our yelling match upstairs.
“Th-thanks, Dad,” I manage.
My sisters give me looks and Samantha arrives down the stairs, mouthing something dramatically, but I focus on grabbing a plate. They eventually give up and go back to their seats around the kitchen and dining room.
“Sure,” Nate says behind me, following my lead.
I absently dish some okra, and coleslaw onto my plate, keenly aware of his big body beside me. But he doesn’t get a plate. He moves around to find a drink instead. But at the cooler he stops, again.
My family has gone back to chatting amongst themselves, but I can’t help but watch Nate. He’s just staring at the desserts.
That’s odd. He’s not even really a dessert person.
He slams the cooler shut, without getting a drink. Then he straightens and starts to walk, past me, through the kitchen and toward the front door. He’s leaving?
“Nate?” Dean calls out.
“It’s all right, let the man have a night off,” Dad murmurs.
“Thanks for watching over our girl, man,” Shep calls.
Nate freezes, his back taut. He turns slowly, with his eyes shut. All the hairs on my arms raise, sticking out like I’ve been connected to a power outlet.
“Everyone keeps saying that. My girl. Our girl. Sally’syour girl,but isn’t this stupid party supposed to be for her, too?” Nate stalks back in.
“Dude.” Shep stands up.
“Nate…” Fergus warns.
Nate raises a hand. “I’m sorry, but isn’t it?” He looks at Susan. She nods slowly. “Well, where’s the chocolate?”
“What are you talking about?” Shep asks, his voice almost a growl.
“I see vanilla cake and candy. Sally eats chocolate. Like, by the pound. Honestly, it’s concerning. You, her family, should be pretty damn concerned.”
“Hey, now,” my dad says.
“She likes candy, asshole. Gummy bears,” Shep says.
“Maybe when she was five! And you asked her to house sit; she doesn’t like animals. She’s not good with them. At all. Having her house sit is a real liability to her and your property.”
I try to find my voice, to speak up and stop him, speak at all. But I can’t.
“And you.” He looks to Susan, again. As if she should be the Sally expert. “Barbecue? Really? She’s pescatarian.”
