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“You sure about this?” he asks once more.
“It’s my family,” I scoff as I walk away from him and head for the door. He isn’t far behind me, but before I get to open the door, he does it for me. He looks at everyone, gauging them before stepping to the side and letting me say hello.
“Who is this?”
“He’s security,” I tell my mom as she pulls me into a small hug.
“It’s good to see you,” she tells me, but I know it’s a lie. She isn’t happy to see me. She hates me after what I told her.
“You, too.” I greet everyone as they come in and find a seat. Then, I move back to the kitchen and start getting the food ready.
“I don’t like him,” Ridge says.
“Who?”
“Your uncle. I don’t like him,” he repeats. I want to tell him why I don’t like him either, but I can’t. I don’t know him enough to tell him.
“Good thing he isn’t your family then, huh?” Ridge nods once before settling himself at the kitchen table with a beer. I take the food into the dining room and set it all out on the table.
We say a prayer which is a bunch of bullshit, and then we eat. No one speaks much to me. They came of their own freewill, but that doesn’t mean they’re going to talk to me. This is how it goesevery time. I sit here like I don’t exist because they all know what I told my mom. They all know the shame there is in this family.
“How is work?” My cousin finally speaks up and asks.
“It’s good. Staying busy,” I tell her. “Excuse me,” I say as I shove out of my chair and walk into the kitchen. I walk right past Ridge and out the back door, needing some air. It doesn’t take long for him to follow me out there, lighting up a cigarette.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. Just a little warm in there,” I lie.
“You’re lyin’ to me.”
“I thought you were security, not my therapy!” I snap at him. He nods his head and takes another drag from his cigarette before flicking it to the ground and walking toward the door.
“I’m sorry.”
“So am I.” That’s it. That’s all he says before walking back inside. I take a few minutes to collect myself before walking back inside. I head for the pantry and pull out the bottle of vodka, taking a pull from the bottle. I don’t need their shit. I don’t need them here. So why are they? Why do I keep putting myself through this shit? I return the bottle to the shelf and walk back out to see Ridge.
“You can come eat with us,” I tell Ridge as he plays on his phone. He doesn’t bother to look up.
“I’m good,” he says.
“Please.” Now, his head turns, and he glances up at me, seeing the pleading in my eyes. He nods his head and stands from the chair before I grab another plate and walk to the dining room. Everyone looks up as he takes the empty seat next to me and loads his plate with food. Unlike them, who barely took anything.
“This is good,” he says, glancing over at me. I smile a genuine smile this time.
“Don’t have home-cooked meals often?” my mom asks him. He shakes his head before wiping his mouth.
“We do the big holidays like this, but we’re all thankful for each other on any given day,” he tells them, and I don’t miss the tone of his voice. He’s a shithead, and I know it. And yet, I don’t feel like I need to say anything to him. I just smile.
“Ridge is my security while I’m home,” I tell them all once more as if they didn’t already know that.
“You’ve said,” my mom says, being short. That isn’t anything new.
“We should say what we’re thankful for,” my cousin chimes in. We go around the table, each person saying something different than the last, and when it gets to Ridge, I almost laugh.
“I’m thankful I’m not in jail or prison.” He goes right back to eating his food until he glances over at me and winks. I can’t help the smile that crosses my face.
“And you, Olson. What are you thankful for?” my mom asks. I look around the table, and I can’t say I’m thankful for family because that would be a lie. I’m thankful they come around, but not who they are or how they act. Nor what they believe.
