How to Forget

solyankee

"When am I going to get to meet your parents?" Nat inquires while his pen is not on the paper like it should be, but rather resting in between his teeth.

I've noticed that he's always thinking about something other than the topic at hand, and maybe he'll fail his math test because of it. We're supposed to be studying quietly in the library, but apparently calculations aren't occupying him well enough.

"Why would you want to meet my parents?"

"I'm your only friend and by default your best friend, and I still don't know what color hair your mom has."

Realizing this conversation isn't important enough to devote my focus to, I go back to my work. "She's blonde. There you go."

He's not finished, though. Why would he be? "I'll find a way to meet your parents," he threatens. "Just you wait."

~~~~~

Sure enough, Nat Kingsley, with his many talents, devises a plan to meet my parents.

I'm enjoying a tasteless meal with my family when the doorbell rings. Being the obedient son that I have reinvented myself to be, I leap up to answer it and immediately wish that I hadn't. Well, at least it wasn't one of my parents who answered it. That would make Nat's mission far too simple.

"Nat, what are you doing here? And what is that?" I point to the foil-covered dish he's carrying.

"It's solyanka. It's Ukrainian, you wouldn't understand." Nat peers behind me to get a glimpse of more of my house, because I sure as hell am not going to let him in here while my parents are sharing the space. I can't let him win that easily, even if he did put a lot of effort into making a dish just so he could meet my parents. He's going for a prolonged meeting, I suppose. Not only does he want to introduce himself, he wants to hang out with them.

"Link, honey, who's at the door?" my mom calls from the dining room.

Nat grins wide, fully aware that this has sealed the deal of being able to meet my parents. I still am not certain as to why he is so adamant about this or why I'm so adamant about not letting it happen, but I believe it has something to do with the fact that if I let Nat win one time, he'll get this irreversible superiority complex that I'd rather not deal with, so I'm doing everything in my power to ensure that I come out on top.

"Just this kid from school," I lie. He's not just this kid from school. Turns out he's my arch-nemesis.

"Be polite. Invite him in for dinner." At this point, my mother has made her way from the dining room and into what I call the lobby of the house.

"No, that's okay, Mom, I'm sure he has to get back home."

"Don't be ridiculous, Link," Nat counters. "I'd love to stay for dinner. I even brought some solyanka for all of us to enjoy."

My mother's face lights up with pleasant surprise. "Link, be a gentleman and help him with his dish," she instructs under the guise of being considerate to our guest, but I know the truth, and the truth is that she has been instantly entranced by Nat and I, her own son, her own flesh and blood, am on the sidelines now.

Now that his dish is out of the way, thanks to me, he extends his hand. "Hello, Mrs. Jeffreys. I'm Nat Kingsley, a friend of Link's."

They seem to have already clicked. As well as Nat being a people pleaser for his classmates, he's a big hit with parents, too. Great. I can expect his presence around here a lot more often. He may even start attending my mother's yoga classes. He's great company as a friend, but I don't want him to move in with me, especially if he's here for my middle aged parents.

"Oh, you can call me Ellen," she says. "It's so wonderful to meet you. I didn't know Link had any friends."

Nat and my mother both burst out into the fake laughter you encounter at dinner parties for rich people. It's inexplicably frustrating to watch.

"Ellen, you're such a hoot!" he exclaims, and I squash his toes in order to silence him. His head swivels towards me. "Link, do you mind?"

My mother, also known as Ellen to Nat, ushers us to the dining room to resume our meal. She shows Nat to the place next to mine, which is more of an advantage than I thought it would be, because now I realize I can kick him from under the table with ease.

Nat smoothes out the napkin on his lap and sighs happily. "You know, I'm so glad I am able to share this meal with you all. This is my grandmother's special recipe from the Ukraine, and usually its magic stays within my family."

"We're glad you're here, and I don't know about you, but I am excited to taste this solyankee..." My dad struggles with the word, and Nat supplies it.

"Solyanka, yes."

~~~~~

At the end of dinner -- which has now come to mean a discussion of a wide variety of topics such as jobs, college (which surprisingly no one asked me about; they're on the same page as I am), sports, and school -- Nat and I take our plates over to the sink but not before he offers to take my dad's plate. This is a bit overkill, but maybe he just really wants to come back to hang out with my parents again. I return for my mom's plate while Nat runs the three other plates under the sink.

"You found yourself a good kid there, Link," my dad says. His hand rests on my arm, currently tasked with lifting a bowl. "I'm proud of you."

I glance back at said friend working diligently on cleaning up our dinner-stained dishes and nod, simpered. "I sure did."

~~~~~

A/N: nat is ruthless lmfao

~Dakotat