“No,” my dad cuts in.
I don’t even have to look to know what’s painted on his face. I bite back a smart-ass remark and close my eyes to keep them from rolling.
“I have the space in my schedule if I don’t take—”
“Take a class for your degree, or you take a business class—”
“I’ve already taken—”
“Something respectable—”
“Theater is respect—”
“Not some sissy—”
“Hi, sorry.” Jessie’s voice cuts through the yelling. “I was just hoping to get a little extra coffee.” She holds up her mug and makes herself small as she winds her way around us to the coffee pot, half-full on the warmer.
No one says a word while she prepares her coffee. I bounce between watching Jessie, my mom, and my dad. Jessie is a statue in the middle of our family storm, my mother an innocent bystander, and my father the hurricane. No one is comfortable right now. Dad’s words linger in the air, weighing on all of us.
My mom makes herself busy with lunch, and I tap my fingers against the counter. My dad sips at his beer and stalks out of the kitchen, back into the living room. My shoulders instinctively relax.
I turn back to my cheeseboard, letting the interaction roll off my back. I got the scholarship out there, I mentioned the class—it’s a success by all standards. And I didn’t miss the way my mom’s eyes lit up when I mentioned the theater class. Even with Dad’s negativity, my mother is the brightest light.
“Can I help?” Jessie asks, appearing at my side. Her sweet smile dissolves any remaining tension in me.
“Sure.” I slide over the block of cheese and knife to her, grabbing a few bags of veggies from the fridge and starting to arrange them on the tray.
“So, a theater class, huh?” Her voice is low so no one else can hear.
I guess everyone heard everything then.
“You got sick of football?” I ask, nodding to the living room where she was sitting with my brothers and their partners.
“You’re avoiding.”
I am. I barely had the courage to mention the theater class to my dad, and now, faced with talking about it with Jessie, I don’t feel as brave as I did. Not after getting knocked down a few pegs.
“Yeah, I don’t know. It seems fun.”
“You’d be really good.”
I let her words hang in the air between us, hoping they’ll sink into my skin the same way my father’s words do.
“Can’t you take one and not tell them?” Jessie asks, darting her eyes around to see if anyone might be trying to listen in.
“Are you suggesting I break rules, Matthews?”
She smirks, looking up at me through her lashes. It sends a rush of blood to a very inappropriate place given I’m within ten feet of most of my family.
“That’s not very like you,” I say.
“You’re a bad influence.”
She nudges me with her elbow, and I nudge her back. She does it again, just a little bit harder, and I do the same, but my nudge is a little too hard and I knock her off-balance. I reach out on instinct and grab her, steadying her.
She narrows her eyes at me, but she’s also got a smile that makes me feel like a million bucks. “We both agree that was you and not just me being a klutz,” she says, poking my chest.
“You can have this one.”
