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Corey shrugged. “I don’t care what they think.”
Maybe if I’d had that attitude when I was a kid, I would have let more roll off my back. “That’s probably a good approach.”
And it would drive my mom nuts. She thought everyone should care what she thought.
I pulled up to their large house.
Corey examined the colonial brick home. “This is nice.”
“On the outside.” Living inside that house wasn’t fun. There were a lot of fights and feelings of disappointment. Expectations I could never live up to.
I got out. “Here goes nothing.”
When I told Corey we were meeting my parents for dinner, he didn’t have much of a reaction. They didn’t mean anything to him. They’d never reached out beyond birthday cards. They’d never included money or a gift. I think that was Mom’s way of saying I didn’t need her since I left the way I did. I’m sure it would be different if I’d fallen in line, gone to college, and been more like my brother.
I knocked on the door, feeling like a stranger, not a child coming home.
Dad opened the door. “Ryan. Corey. Come in.”
So stiff and formal. Is this how it always was growing up? Is it why I never felt like I fit in?
“It’s about time you got here. Dinner is getting cold,” Mom said when we moved into the living room.
I knew she didn’t cook the meal, so I didn’t apologize. We were only a few minutes late, and it was because I was stressing over what to wear. I’d finally gone with jeans and a button-down. It wouldn’t meet their standards, but it met mine.
Dad walked around the dining room table, pouring wine. “Have a seat.”
The table had always been too big for our family of four.
I sat across from Corey, my parents on either end.
I don’t know what I expected. That maybe they’d acknowledge Corey? I should have known it wouldn’t be a normal reunion. Our family was anything but.
We passed the food around the table, and just before I dug in, Mom said, “Why did you call this meeting?”
I scoffed. “It’s not a meeting. I asked if you wanted to see Corey.”
Mom’s face screwed up. “I’m sure you need something, or you wouldn’t be here.”
Everything was transactional for her. If you do this, I’ll give you that. “No strings. I just thought you’d want to spend time with your grandson.”
“Don’t be patronizing. If that were the case, you would have brought him by sooner.”
“I wasn’t sure you’d want to see him.” That was the truth.
Mom waved me off. “Of course, we want to see our only grandchild.”
Yet they hadn’t greeted him. It was like he was a prop at the table. Something to ignore.
I ate a bite of mashed potatoes, my appetite gone. Coming here was a mistake. They hadn’t changed.
“How is school?” Dad finally asked Corey.
“Good.”
It was a typical teenage response, and I waited for Mom or Dad to criticize it.
“You getting good grades?” Dad asked.
