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Callie’s mom comes into the hallway and winces just a little when she sees me. “Samuel,” she calls. “It’s nice to see you.” I cringe at her calling me Samuel. My mother used to call me that, but no one has called me that since. I’ve always been SJ for Sam Junior. Never Sam, that’s my dad, and I’m most definitely not Samuel. She’s been reminded before and does it to try to get under my skin, and it’s working.
I force a smile. “It’s good to see you, Mrs. McGraw. And thank you for having me. It’s just SJ. Not Samuel,” I remind her politely.
“Oh, right,” she says in a flat, friendly tone that gives me a small sliver of hope that this dinner might go well. I won’t hold my breath, but maybe this time will be different.
“Dinner’s about ready. I’ll get your father.” Her heels click on the tile as she leaves.
I side-eye Callie, and she mouths, “I’m sorry,” and gives me a tight smile.
* * *
“Hell of a game you played, son. You really made us proud,” Hamilton says as we sit down to eat. It smells good, but honestly, I’d rather go eat dirt than sit at their table with them. I’m doing this for Callie. His words give me more hope that maybe this will be a good dinner, after all.
“Thank you, sir. How are things at the bank?” I ask politely, sitting up straighter. Eating in their formal dining room makes me nervous. Their overcomplicated meals make me feel even more out of place. I glance over at Hamilton staring at me, and his mouth turns up a little, and my suspicions are confirmed.
He chuckles. “Aren’t you just the little man? Things are good.” Hamilton smirks. He always loves to talk about himself. I figure if I can get him to talk more about himself, he’ll interrogate me less. I wince at him calling me a little man. Always belittling or being passive-aggressive toward me any chance he gets.
“Samuel, where will you be attending college in the fall?” Cheryl asks as she takes a sip of her wine and looks pointedly at me. I also noted that’s her third glass she’s poured since we sat down. She hasn’t been eating. Hamilton is on his second bourbon.
Thankfully, Callie interjects and says sternly, “Mom, it’s SJ. And he’s gotten into the same schools as me. We’re just waiting to decide where we both want to go,” she says as she reaches over and squeezes my hand. We’ve already decided, but we’re not telling her parents yet about our plans. Her mom’s eyes land on our hands and snap to Hamilton’s face. He looks over at me and says, “Will you still play football?”
I wipe my mouth with my napkin and say, “I’m not sure yet, still weighing my options.”
“Are you going into medicine like Callie?”
“No, that’s not for me, sir. I’m thinking possibly business.” I smile politely.
Callie takes another bite of her prime rib, still eyeing me. We’re walking on eggshells. And it’s getting crunchy.
“Well, you’d better figure it out soon,” Hamilton chides, then changes the subject. “Your father must be so proud.”
“Where’s your mother, Samuel, honey?” Cheryl interrupts, and I don’t miss the slur in her voice.
“Mom!” Callie snaps.
Hamilton and Cheryl just stare at me and wait, ignoring Callie calling them out for being rude.
“My mother left when I was five. It’s just me and my dad now,” I remind them flatly. Here we go. I’m not even hungry anymore. I set my fork down, anticipating it all falling apart from here. It’s time to start planning my exit.
“Oh, you poor boy,” she coos. I look over and don’t miss Hamilton rolling his eyes. Dick.
“Do you think you’ll go into the biker business like your dad?” Hamilton asks in a condescending tone.
“I don’t know, maybe. I like working on cars. But I also want to go to school.” I shrug. I look over at Callie, and she nods. I’m being honest. That’s the thing I can’t respect about Hamilton and Cheryl. They’re so fake.
This is why I hate being around them. It’s a game for them, and we’re pawns to play with every chance they get. We say the wrong thing, and it all goes south. It’s always a game to get it over with and get out before that happens. It usually ends badly.
“Well, I just hope you don’t get mixed up in that biker gang stuff,” Cheryl says as she watches me, waiting for a reaction.
“You know, I think I’d better get back to the shop. I have to help my dad with a few things. This was delicious, Cheryl, thank you.” I stand and set my napkin down.
“I’ll walk you out,” Callie says quietly, shooting her mom and dad an angry look.
Hamilton and Cheryl say nothing as we leave. They’re probably disappointed that I left before all hell could break loose this time.
“I’m so sorry,” Callie whispers.
“That was awful.” But just as awful as it usually goes whenever I have an interaction with them.
