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“You and Cara have been placed over here,” his mother directs us to our seats.
I’m still getting over the fact that she’s just said my name, when Edward Senior hits me with a question:
“What does this one do?”
Okay, so it’s not exactly directed at me, but it’s for me. And the way Edward steels himself as he sits down, not looking at his father, I decide it’s best that I answer.
“I’m an actor,” I say with a pleasant smile as I sit down beside Edward. His mother is opposite me and his father on my right. Let the buffering begin, I guess.
“Of course… It’s always a model or actress. Edward’s a creature of habit, if nothing else.” His father grunts into his wine glass and takes a long sip.
His mother jumps in to try and dissolve the awkward silence that descends over the table. “Would we have seen you in anything?” she asks.
Her tone is soft and she has an open, friendly face. It’s crazy to think how she’s partnered with someone as hard and stern as her husband.
“I have two movies lined up,” I reply. “One will be released later this year, and the other begins filming soon.”
“Cara got her big break this year.” It’s the first time Edward speaks, and it’s to make me look good.
His father doesn’t miss the opportunity, though, and pounces on him. “Her big break. And I’m sure you had everything to do with that.”
“Edward, stop,” the grandmother says loudly.
“It’s the industry, mother. We all know these young girls get onto the big screen by lying on their backs.” Edward Senior empties his glass and snaps his fingers.
I don’t see anyone else in the room, but less than a second passes before a waiter rushes out with a bottle to refill him. I swallow back the instant disdain I feel for the man. I can tell his wife and mother aren’t anything like him, but also know with certainty that their kindness can’t make up for his bullshit.
And I thought Edward was an asshole when I first met him. His father makes him look like a puppy dog.
“Don’t mind him,” Edward’s mother says, placing a hand over his father’s while looking directly at me. “Bad day at the office. You know how it goes.”
His father pulls his hand back. “No, she doesn’t. She just told you. She probably waits tables when she’s not on set playing a role she didn’t earn.”
“Okay, that’s enough.” Edward’s voice is level but icy cold. I don’t think I’ve ever heard him this way. “If all you’re going to do is be a dick to Cara, then there’s no reason for us to stay.”
He pushes his chair back and rises abruptly, discarding his cotton napkin on the empty plate in front of him. His mother jumps to her feet too, holding out her hands for him to stop.
“Edward, please…” Then she looks to his father, imploring. “Can we just have a normal dinner for once? Both of you… please?”
“Both of us?” Edward blurts out incredulously. “He’s the one you need to speak to, Mother.”
“Sit down, Edward.” For all the harshness his father exudes, it’s clear that the true power lies with his grandmother. She’s gentle, but commanding. “You too,” she nods at Edward’s mother.
Seats are taken, silence endures. She has spoken. I feel about the size of a thumbtack while we wait for our meal to be served, unsure of whether to make small talk or stay quiet. I never usually struggle with making people feel at ease, given my work at the theater over the years. But I’m terrified that Edward’s father will twist whatever I have to say and use it to attack his son. It seems he doesn’t need much ammunition to do that anyway.
“Tell me about your new movie, Cara,” his grandmother says, just as a couple of waiters walk in with laden trays. They work their way around the table, serving us our food and drinks.
“Giovanni Sanchez is producing,” I reply with more than a little pride. I know his father pretends not to respect me or my work, but there’s no denying Sanchez’s name in the industry.
His mother and grandmother respond with the expected awe and impressed nods. His father has gone back to being the silent, scowling stone at the end of the table.
“I’ve followed his work for years,” his grandmother says. “You’re a lucky girl.”
I pause halfway through a mouthful of seared eggplant, expecting his father to say something about my luck or whatever. But he remains dead quiet, lo and behold.
“Thank you,” I then reply. “I’ve never been to New York before, so I’m really looking forward to it.”
Edward drops his knife and fork with a clatter, and frowns at me. “What do you mean, New York?”
