Table Talks

RAINEY

My mom has a knack for putting on a show when she’s around new people. She’s well aware that I never join her and Jeff for dinner, and she knows it’s been ages since she cooked something this fancy.

The plate of pasta in front of me is a surprise. Usually, I’d be having pizza for dinner while she and Jeff would be dining at some high-end restaurant in town.

It’s still hard for me to wrap my head around the fact that my mom is actually my mother. We’re as different as night and day.

She has long, sleek black hair that behaves much better than mine, and she’s a slim woman standing at five foot eight.

She’s into shopping and jewelry, while I’m perfectly happy in a rock star T-shirt and leather boots.

She enjoys getting her nails done at the most upscale salon she can find, while I’m fine with the black nail polish I keep in my dresser.

We’re polar opposites. Maybe that’s why we don’t see eye to eye. ~Anymore~, that is.

The table is eerily silent as I play with my spaghetti, the noodles suddenly becoming more fascinating than the people around me.

Except for Ansel. He piques my interest more than anything else. The fact that he memorized my poem was cool, but the unsettling thought that he might know more than I think is unnerving.

Jeff is eyeing Ansel suspiciously from across the table while he stuffs his mouth with a forkful of noodles.

Jeff is four years younger than my mom. He’s of average height with curly brown hair that’s always trimmed short at the sides.

He sports an unattractive stubble on his rough jaw, and his eyes are an odd color. I’m not sure what color they are, because I can’t stand to look at him for more than five seconds without feeling repulsed.

But they’re probably some shade of gray or something. I don’t really care to know.

My mom is putting on her best display of manners. If I wasn’t so angry about the earlier argument with her live-in boyfriend, I’d probably laugh at how hard she’s trying.

“So…Ansel, right?” she starts, flashing him a smile from across the table.

He lifts his gaze from his untouched plate and nods, a half-smile playing on his lips. Once again, his eyes don’t smile along, but I doubt my mom notices that.

“You’re quite handsome. Do you share any classes with my daughter?”

“Uh, well, we have math and gym together so far.”

“Oh, nice.” She nods, pretending to be interested. “Is she doing well in school? Like, are there any complaints about her? Is she involved in any fights or arguments of any—”

I let out a sigh. “Mom, please.”

“No. I’ve never seen her arguing with anyone.” Ansel squints a little. “She’s quiet, and she’s great at math. She’s smart.” He smiles genuinely after saying that, this time his eyes joining in.

“Oh, is she?”

He tilts his head to the side, and she chuckles a bit. “Well, you see, she never shows me her test results and stuff. Only her detention slips, since I have to sign them. Which happens pretty often.”

I grip my fork tighter. I can’t decide what’s more annoying, Jeff’s icy glare from across the table or my mother’s attempt to paint me as a troublemaker.

She always does this.

She often has friends over, and whenever I walk past her little “gathering” in the dining room to get to the kitchen, she’s always telling her “sophisticated” friends what a handful I am.

I have no idea what I did to upset her. It’s like she just woke up one day and decided to hate me.

Ansel’s expression is unreadable, and he doesn’t respond to her. The silence is awkward, so she flashes another smile, letting out a forced sigh.

“Well, I’m glad she has ~decent~ friends for once. I mean, she has this friend named Riley. I’m not sure if you’ve met her.”

~And here we go again.~

“She’s the same age as Rain. God, that girl is just so…wild, you know?”

“Mom, don’t talk about Riley like that,” I snap.

“She used to go to Freetown High with Rainey, right?” she continues. “Do you know Freetown High? No? Well, it’s a school a few miles away.

“So, this ‘friend’ of Rainey’s is a real troublemaker. I mean, this girl knows bouncers at clubs, and I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s acquainted with drug dealers too.

“I think she’s one of the reasons Rainey got mixed up with—”

“Can you please stop?” I slam my fork down, and a loud clink echoes through the dining room as it hits the glass plate. “This is why I don’t eat dinner with you people.”

I can’t understand why she would say all that to someone she just met. Is she that desperate to hurt my feelings?

I’m about to storm off from the table in anger when Jeff speaks up.

“So, ~kid in the glasses~,” he starts, wiping his lips with a napkin while he glares at Ansel. “How long is your timeline?”

Ansel squints. “Sorry?”

“How long are you planning to stick around to get into her pants?”

“Jeff.” My mom calmly raises her hand to him, and I furrow my brows at the rude man sitting across from me.

“How can you be so disrespectful? Don’t fucking ask him that!”

“Language, Rainey!” my mother snaps. “What on earth is wrong with you?!”

She’s always quick to defend Jeff, but that day at Freetown High when I was in the principal’s office, she didn’t defend me.

“So it’s okay for Jeff to be rude to someone, but the minute I react, I’m the one getting scolded?”

“You’re always swearing, and that’s very disrespectful. He’s older than you,” she chastises.

“He’s always cussing me out. So, it’s okay for him to do that? I guess he gets a free pass to treat me however he wants!”

“Rainey, quit being so dramatic. Grow up. You’re acting like a helpless damsel in distress!”

“You claim to be my mom, but you care more about Jeff than you do about me! How can you side with someone who—”

A warm hand wraps around mine under the table, interrupting my outburst.

I glance at Ansel, and he offers a small, comforting smile, closing his eyes and nodding slightly as if to reassure me.

I don’t know why, but the simple act of our hands touching brings me a sense of comfort I haven’t felt in a long time.

My body relaxes, and I drop my gaze. His hand is soft, and as he senses my calm, he slowly lets go.

I can’t ignore the strange emptiness that fills me once our hands are no longer touching.

Ansel sighs, a small smile playing on his perfect features.

“It’s okay, Rain. Questions are meant to be asked,” he starts, his tone surprisingly calm despite Jeff’s harsh words.

“Your name is Jeff, right?” Ansel asks, not waiting for Jeff to respond before continuing. “Would you mind explaining what you meant by that statement?”

He locks eyes with Jeff, his smile never wavering, and for some reason, it makes Jeff uncomfortable. I can’t help but admire Ansel’s reaction. He seems genuinely unfazed.

Jeff squirms in his seat, clearly thrown off by Ansel’s calm demeanor. He tries to maintain a stern expression, and the two of them just stare at each other for a moment.

Jeff looks angry, but Ansel looks amused.

“Uh, we should just drop this silly conversation,” my mom interjects quickly, sensing the tension building in the room. “I have some dessert in the fridge, Ansel. Would you like some?”

“No. Ansel is leaving now. It’s getting late,” I say.

“Yeah. It really is,” Jeff grumbles, reaching for his glass and taking a sip of his champagne, his eyes never leaving Ansel’s.

I swallow, tearing my gaze away from the man across from me. “Are you ready, Ansel?”

He stands up, but his eyes remain locked on Jeff’s. “Yeah, I’ll head out now. Have a good night.”

“Please come back again,” my mom suggests. “I’m truly sorry for the awkward first meeting. I hope we can have a proper conversation next time, Ansel.”

Ansel gives a small smile, but it quickly fades as he turns to leave. I follow him to the door, shooting a glance at a fuming Jeff.

He should know that his intimidation tactics don’t work on everyone.

***

The silver moonlight bathes the street as we step outside my gate. The night air is cool, and a gentle breeze tousles our hair.

I hold onto my skirt, using my other hand to brush my hair out of my eyes.

“That was quite the dinner,” Ansel remarks.

I notice the thick cloud of breath that escapes his mouth as he speaks. It’s so cold out here that my feet are freezing inside my leather boots.

“I’m sorry my family is so weird,” I admit, staring at my feet.

Embarrassment doesn’t even begin to cover it. The fact that Ansel had to witness how messed up my family is makes me feel beyond humiliated.

I should have just done the worksheet at his house instead. I don’t know what made me think inviting him to my place was a good idea.

“It’s okay. Trust me, I’ve seen weirder, Rain,” he reassures me with a wide grin.

His teeth shine under the crescent moon, rivaling the bright stars scattered across the night sky. He fits in so perfectly with them.

The thought is cheesy and unlike me, so I quickly dismiss it and sigh. “It’s not okay.”

“It is. I’m not easily rattled. It takes a lot to offend me. Don’t worry about it.”

Remembering how he kept his cool earlier, I can’t help but believe him.

He crouches down to inspect his bike, and I wrap an arm around myself, surveying the dark neighborhood lit by only a few streetlights.

Crossview Close is quiet at night. I can tell everyone here probably goes to bed at 6 p.m.

There are no kids running around or riding tricycles or playing in the streets like in normal neighborhoods. It’s just boring.

Where I used to live, the neighborhood was always bustling. I wonder if it’s the same in other parts of town.

“My tires are flat,” Ansel announces as he stands up, dusting off his hands.

“They are?” I tuck my hair behind my ear, examining the wheels of the bike. I’m no bike expert, but I can tell his tires are deflated.

“How did that happen? I mean, they were fine earlier, weren’t they?”

I look at him, confused, but Ansel doesn’t seem surprised.

“Well…your ~stepdad~ sure has a unique way of welcoming people,” he mutters under his breath. “It’s okay. I’ll just walk home. I’ll see you at school tomorrow.”

He gives me a smile, then grabs the handles of his bike and starts to walk away.

I bite my lower lip, debating whether I should walk him to the end of the street. I feel bad that he had an unpleasant evening because of my mom and Jeff.

I jog up to him. He looks surprised as he turns to me. His puzzled look prompts me to explain.

“Um, I’ll just walk with you.”

He shakes his head but doesn’t stop walking. “No way. Do you think I’d be crazy enough to let a girl walk me home?” he chuckles.

“It’s okay. I don’t mind.”

“But I do, Rain. It’s dark and cold out. You should go back inside.”

“I’m good. Nothing scares me,” I tell him.

Ansel lifts an eyebrow, looking surprised at my words. “Really?”

I drop my gaze, matching his pace as we walk. “Well… I mean, I’m not scared of things I can see or touch.”

I glance at him, and he’s just staring at me. I realize how silly my words must have sounded, and I shake my head. “I know. It’s a weird thing to say.”

“It’s not,” he says quickly. “But I’d like to hear an example of what you mean.”

“Okay, well, I’m not scared of robbers or angry crowds. But I am scared of feelings…and love.”

Ansel cocks his head to the side. He looks intrigued as he watches me. “That’s interesting. Why?”

I shrug. “I don’t know. I guess I just think they won’t last forever, you know.

“I mean, my mom used to love me once. She doesn’t anymore, so I guess feelings change like the weather, right?”

Ansel stops walking and turns to face me. The night is dark, but the faint glow from the streetlights is enough to see the curious look in his eyes.

His intense gaze feels like he’s trying to uncover something, and I shift uncomfortably, wondering if he’s seeing things I’d rather he didn’t.

“Is that why your eyes always look like that?” His calm voice cuts through the quiet night.

I look at him, not sure I understand what he’s saying. “Wh-what do you mean?”

“Your eyes. They have this look,” he explains. “I don’t know, but they look like the eyes of someone who’s screaming on the inside.”

I swallow hard. His words hit a nerve, but I can’t let him see that.

I was young when I learned that showing your emotions makes you look weak, and I never want to be seen as weak. ~Not ever again~.

I blink and quickly look away. I need to avoid making eye contact with him. I think that’s how he’s able to see into my soul. I’m not sure I like it.

A car pulls up next to us, breaking the strange and intense moment between us. We both turn to look at the rolling window of the black Subaru.

“Hey, ~glasses guy~!”

A guy with a buzz cut rests his arm on the window, a mischievous grin on his face. The driver of the car is smoking a cigar, looking at us over his friend’s shoulder.

Ansel sighs, his jaw clenching, and I glance from him to the unknown car, curiosity written all over my face.

“Where’s your brother?” the guy in the passenger seat asks.