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“It sounds like the weather’s going to clear up this week,” my mom says. “They aren’t forecasting any storms.”
“That’s good,” Nova says after several moments of silence. “Jenna, did you find a dress for the winter formal?”
Jenna glances up at Nova. “Yeah. I got it a week ago.”
“Oh.” Nova glances at me. We were counting on Jenna to talk, but for once in her life, she has nothing to say.
“Stephen,” my mom says, “why don’t you tell the kids about Houston?”
He sets his fork down and dabs his mouth with his napkin. “It was very warm, the traffic was bad, and the deal I was hoping to get didn’t go through.”
“Honey, it wasn’t all bad,” my mom says. “Tell them about the aquarium you went to.”
“There isn’t much to tell. It was a typical aquarium.”
“Why’d you go to an aquarium?” I ask, seeing if he’ll talk to me.
“One of the men from the bank thought it would be good for us to go out and do something unrelated to business. He also took us to a basketball game, and on our last day, we went to a play. After all that, he didn’t agree to the deal. It was a complete waste of time.”
The table gets silent again.
“Easton and Nova did a wonderful job on the tree,” my mom says. “Stephen, did you see it?”
“Yes,” he mutters.
“Did Mom make you listen to all her stories about the ornaments?” Jenna asks Nova.
“I liked the stories,” Nova says. “I learned a lot about your family.”
“We need new ornaments,” Jenna says. “I hate the old ones. They look junky.”
“They’re not junky,” I say. “And Mom likes them.”
“So? That doesn’t mean we can’t get new ones.” Jenna takes a bite of her bread. “Mom, can Elsa come over for Christmas? Like around five, after we’ve done all the family stuff?”
“No. You should be spending time with your grandparents.”
“They won’t even be awake. They go to bed at like seven. And you and Dad will watch some stupid movie and Easton will be with Nova, so what am I gonna do?”
“What was that about Easton?” my dad says.
“Jenna, we’ll talk about this later,” my mom says.
My dad stares down at my mom, the veins in his temples starting to show. “Did you invite her to Christmas?”
“No, Stephen, I did not,” my mom says, sounding like she wants to strangle him. “But I don’t know why we can’t.”
“Holidays are for family. That’s it. No one else. You are the one who made that rule and we are not changing it!”
“So what you are saying?” my mom says, her voice rising. “That we just let her have Christmas alone? She’s a child! She has no family! No home! Nowhere to go!”
My dad slams his hand down on the table. “We are NOT doing this again!” He points at my mom. “You swore to me this was over. When we made our decision, you swore it was over. But it wasn’t, was it? I stood by you, Penelope, as you carried on about her. I sent you to the best counselors money could buy. And now, here we are, 12 years later, reliving the whole fucking thing!” He bangs his hand on the table so hard it rattles the dishes.
“What are you guys talking about?” I ask.
They ignore me as they stare at each other from opposite ends of the table.
My mom shoots up from her chair. “That was not my decision! That was yours! You made me go along with it and I always regretted it!”
