Letting Go and Moving On

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"Thank you for preparing and serving dinner," Father says to Link, then shoots me a not-so-subtle glare across the table. "I'm happy to see that everyone was able to be punctual this time."

He's still not over it? It's been weeks since I had to reschedule our dinner.

"I already apologized numerous times for being late that day, what more do you want from me?" I ask, genuinely curious about his answer.

"I would like for you to be on time," he says in a calm voice, taunting me with a grain of arrogance.

"I am, aren't I?"

"Today you are," he says in a dismissive tone.

"Don't act like you were always on time when we planned on having dinner together. I quite vividly remember a series of instances where I would sit by the table, waiting for you until the food turned cold. Some nights you forgot about me altogether. At least I have the decency to call and cancel and to apologize for it, unlike you."

"I was never late when dining with guests."

He is really testing me right now. I clench my jaw and swallow all the nasty words I would like to use in my next counter argument. "Fine, can we just enjoy the meal Link cooked for us without fighting?"

The shared discomfort when we shift our eyes toward Link, who is silently sitting next to me, is rising to a nearly palpable level. Father and I give him an apologetic look as I adjust the napkin on my lap and he picks up the silverware. Link returns an awkward smile, kindly pretending the past two minutes never happened.

"Thanks for cooking, Link," I mutter embarrassed.

Father's eyes widen upon taking the first bite, driving Link and me to exchange a look of anticipation. Once he has swallowed, he looks at Link, still holding surprise in his eyes.

"It's quite delectable," he praises him in awe.

"Thanks," Link tries to suppress his little smile of pride and relief. He's cute when he acts abashedly but I wish he didn't try to hide his smile all the time. He's allowed to feel good after receiving a compliment.

"It's really good," I agree with Father after taking a bite.

"Thanks. It's a common Japanese dish. Nothing too fancy. It's my mom's favorite so there's a good chance she'll make it for us."

"Speaking of which, are you all set for tomorrow's journey?" Father asks the two of us.

"I am." My short answer, unintentionally hands all the attention to Link.

Flustered, he scratches the back of his head and answers without looking back at Father. "I still have to pack."

"Pack? But your flight is departing in less than 24 hours," Father questions the poor, unorganized boy.

"Yeah, I know, I'll do it in the morning. I still got some clothes and other stuff at my parents' house, so I don't have to bring much."

No matter Link's reasoning, Father could never comprehend or excuse a lack of preparation. But instead of giving Link a hard time, he avoids an argument by simply raising his brows and answering with a very restrained, "Alright."

I'm glad he's trying to be polite. I didn't mean to get into an argument with him before dinner but he still manages to poke my temper sometimes. I think we are just too used to provoking and challenging each other and always assume the other one is out for blood. In those moments, we forget to put ourselves in each other's shoes. He has explained to me why he used to be gone all the time when I was younger, and I have explained to him why I didn't make it in time for our dinner a few weeks ago, yet we both hold grudges more often than not.

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