"So …" My father beamed, taking a sip from his glass of Bourbon. "How was your first week at Grimwald? Tell me all about it." My parents had invited me over for dinner as part of our agreement. I could come for a visit once every week, provided they invited me. My father and I sat at opposite ends of the dining table — my mother was in the kitchen pretending to cook, but it was no secret that she couldn't cook to save her life.
I pictured her delegating tasks to the family's cook and housekeepers, like she normally did during family dinners. Everything had to be perfect, even when it was just the three of us. While I liked being an only child, and never felt the longing for a sibling so many people had warned my mother I would feel, I despised the part about it that meant the focus would constantly be on me. What I did, where I travelled, who I banged, or brought home to my parents (none had set foot in their household after Bianca) would always be scrutinised.
Without my mother here to fill the silence, my father felt forced to keep our conversation going, even if it meant asking surface-level questions. I waited for our housekeeper, Keri-Anne, to finish pouring me my own glass of Bourbon, all while having a silent mental breakdown over the shit show I'd created, before I responded.
"It's been …" I picked up my glass and took several gulps, letting my father wait on purpose, "… interesting to say the least." I put my half-empty glass down and picked up my knife and fork, tearing into my medium-rare steak.
My father raised a brow. "Interesting?"
"Yeah," I took a bite and chewed, letting the flavours linger on my tongue before swallowing.
"I suppose I expected something other than 'interesting' to be your chosen
I stared down my father without a word. I was more interested in getting through my dinner without further interruptions, but I knew my father wouldn't let that happen.
I dropped my fork and knife beside my plate. "Well, taking into account that becoming a substitute teacher was hardly my idea, I think 'interesting' more than cuts it."
My father's expression was unreadable. He went to say something, but was sidetracked by Keri-Anne topping up his glass with more Bourbon. My mother walked cheerfully into the dining room, clapping her hands together and announcing the arrival of more roast potatoes. Trailing behind her was one of their newer, and much younger, housekeepers. She wore a pair of oven gloves to balance the scorching hot dish in her hands. Once she had safely set it down in the middle of the table, she scurried off without looking up, like she had been summoned to the kitchen.
My mother reached out and patted my forearm from her seat. "What have my favourite men been discussing in my absence, then?"
"Not much. Father was just asking me how teaching the gremlins at Grimwald is going."
My mother let out a hearty cackle. "Is that the new term for students?" she asked, ruffling my hair like I was a little boy again. "Mother," I complained, "do you know how long it takes for me to get my hair to look half-decent?"
"Not a lot if it still looks like you just rolled out of bed." She cackled again. This time, my father joined in.
"Laugh all you want, but it's actually a popular look." I ran my fingers through my curls, arranging them into the style I had arrived with.
The young housekeeper who had disappeared just a few moments ago came back with a kitchen tong. As she made her round, dishing potatoes into my parents' plates, I watched her intently.
She was probably the same age as me, or maybe just a few years older. Her dark, long hair, a stark contrast to her white shirt, had been tied back into a neat ponytail behind her back. I looked up and caught my dad watching her. He immediately looked back down at his plate as soon as our eyes met, a flash of shame crossing his features for a brief moment.
I couldn't blame him. She was a rare beauty, and if I weren't so caught up in proving to my family that I was a worthy heir or warding off thoughts about Jade, I probably would have made a move. But my father was a middle-aged man who had no business gawking at a woman in her mid-twenties like that, especially not one who worked for the family.
When the young woman went to serve me, my mother insisted she could do it.
"I think that's all, Julie," she said, placing a soft hand on the young housekeeper's wrist and taking the tong from her. Julie, I turned the name over in my mind. It suited her.
"Is there anything else I can get you, Mrs Weston?"
"If you could be a dear and get us some more of that delicious gravy from the kitchen, I would truly appreciate it."
"No problem, Mrs Weston. And for you, Mr Weston?" I wasn't sure which one of us she was addressing, as she wasn't looking at either my father or me.
Since my father was deep into his food, I took the chance to respond. "I'm all good for now." I flashed her my best smile.
She turned her attention to my father. "And for you, sir?"
My father looked up from his food for the first time since I'd caught him staring at Julie. "I'm fine," he replied sternly, not even a hint of a smile on his face as he did.
"Very well, I'll be right back with the gravy, Mrs Weston." We all watched Julie retreat before we continued eating what was left on our plates and washing it down with our drinks. My mother had gotten Keri-Anne to pour her a glass of red wine from her ever-growing collection of wine.
When it was just the three of us in the room again, I turned to my mother. "The food is fantastic, mother." I knew she enjoyed the small compliments, even if she hadn't directly been behind the preparation of the food.
"Thanks, dear." She ran a soft hand down the side of my face. "Just so you know, I'm proud of you for finding a place to live and doing so well as a teacher."
"How do you know I'm doing well. It could be going shit for all you know." My mother winked at me. "Oh, we have our connections." Something about her words unsettled me. I scarfed my food down and felt a knot form in my stomach as I anticipated how long it would take for everything to come crashing down.