They’re here. Is it odd for me to feel minor disappointment that my parents have arrived when I haven’t seen them in months? I’m glad to see my grandparents, but I know with myparents comes a myriad of feelings and potential drama and, at some point, inevitable disappointment. Part of me wants to skip to the bit at the end where I’m let down so I can travel through the stages of depression and move on already.
But that’s not an option.
“In the kitchen,” I call back, stirring the pot. I move down the counter to chop fresh basil, glancing over my shoulder when they push the door open. My family files in together, and my chest gives an impromptu jolt when I see my parents. Iamhappy to see them, but it’s mixed with a minor thread of foreboding I can’t shake. This is how I always feel around them, and I wish it was different. “Hello, everyone. Mum. Dad.”
My hands are covered in bits of dark, pungent basil, so I lean near to kiss their cheeks.
“Gavin, this smells delicious,” Mum says, tugging at the sleeves of her thick maroon jumper. Is she uncomfortable? It’s the first time my parents have stepped foot in this house since selling it to me. Mum smiles. She doesn’tlookuncomfortable.
“Where’s your guest?” Granny asks, her white hair twisted back in a clip and dark jumper. She nudges me aside and takes the spoon off the counter. The lines framing her eyes and bracketing her lips speak to how many years she’s been stirring pots like this, so I let her take over and keep chopping the herb.
“I can’t remember her name,” Mum cuts in. “I remember Ruby, though. Lovely girl.”
“Ruby is married to Hamish,” Granny corrects.
“Eh?” Grandad asks, taking a seat at the table with a large exhale and a groan. Dad sits beside him, sliding his reading glasses down his nose to look at his phone. Grandad’s hair is thick and gray, but Dad’s is going white. When did he age like that? I don’t recall his salt-and-pepper having so much salt. If he had more wrinkles, he’d look older than Grandad.
“Notyou, Hamish. Ruby is married to Young Hamish.”
Grandad looks at Granny over his thin wire glasses like she’s telling him the sky is up and the ground is down.
Granny leans against the counter and rolls her eyes. “Anyway, this woman isLuna’ssister. Luna is married to Rhys, who is Hamish’s?—”
“Eh?” Grandad asks.
Granny ignores him and turns down the boiler. “YoungHamish’s friend.”
“The American,” Mum says.
“That’s me,” Callie says from the doorway.
The women turn in unison, and I glance up quickly, wondering how the devil I didn’t sense Callie standing there. How long was she watching this mess of an explanation? My family must seem like an episode from one of her American sitcoms. Cue the laugh track now.
“Callie, come meet my family. This is my mum, Jean Mackenzie, and my granny, Nessa Craig.”
“Vanessa,” Granny says. “But everyone calls me Nessa.”
“And my grandad, Hamish?—”
“I heard,” Callie says.
I fight a smile. “And my dad, Donald Mackenzie.”
“Just Don is grand,” Dad says.
“Nice to meet you all.” Her brown eyes rise to meet mine. “Anything I can help with, Gavin?”
“Set the table?” I offer. I can tell right away she wants something to busy her hands.
She gives me a grateful nod and moves around me to pull down a stack of bowls and plates. Her walk looks normal, no noticeable limp. I might have overreacted when she fell, but I’m alone with this woman in my house for who knows how long, and I’m responsible for her well-being. When she hissed in pain, her face crumpling, it unlocked something deep within me.
“You must be eager for your sister to arrive,” Granny says.
“It’s been hard living so far away from her and Rhys, butnow that they have a baby, it’s horrendous. I haven’t seen them in over a year, so Oliver is practically a different person.”
“Our good friend moved to America many years ago,” Granny says. “Hamish and I understand some of that pain.”
“It’s tough, isn’t it?” Callie asks, setting plates on the table.
