jace

December: The Chemistry of Steak Knives

sunday
Family nights were on Sundays, my sister would come over and we'd talk and eat without any arguing because family nights were special. We hadn't had one in awhile, but my father promised we'd get back into the routine. We were supposed to dress nicely--which meant wearing a shirt with a collar and shoes that didn't have holes in the bottom.

We were having steaks that night, it was a special occasion because Eli was going to meet my parents for the first time. They'd still remained distant and tranquil though they'd been back for two months; my father was usually relaxed, but I knew that it probably took an accumulation of massages and tranquilizers to tone my mother down--so I was trying my best to enjoy it while I could.

Eli and my sister arrived at 5:36 with a bottle of sparkling water, I could tell that was Eli's idea because no one in our house drank sparkling water--my mom said that if water was supposed to be carbonated then lakes would be full of soda.

"Hi jace," Eli had a big smile on his face and at least two full jars of gel holding his hair back--he'd ditched the ponytail for the night after I'd warned him about my mom's vendetta against them. He looked out of place in his light blue shirt and tie, as he was used to band t-shirts and ripped jeans.

"Hello."

"Where's Dad?" Courtney took off her jacket and handed it to me.

"In the kitchen."

Courtney left the two of us in the living room, Eli handed me the bottle of sparkling water. "I'm kind of nervous."

I shrugged, "You shoudn't be."

"Do you think they'll like me?"

This was a difficult question, I didn't know whether to tell the truth or the truuuth. "I'm not sure," in a way this was true. "Just be yourself."

"That's all I can be."

"Yeah."

We sat around the dining room table, passing potatoes and dinner rolls and napkins and things like that. After my father finished questioning Eli about his intentions and his job and other fatherly things, the conversation was easy. He began to tell us a story about someone streaking through his lecture hall, a student he didn't even know. My father always had stories about his students, I even knew some of them by name and I'd always wonder if he ever talked to them about us.

"He just ran in one door and ran right back out another door. I hope it doesn't become a habit."

"I've done that before," Eli said, taking a sip of his sparkling water--we'd opened it out of courtesy.

Then forks stopped clanking and eyes were on Eli as if he'd had the word "awkward" slapped across his face. And he cursed under his breath when he'd realized what he'd said, and his skin color jumped to the right side of the visible light spectrum and set up camp.

My mom quirked up an eyebrow, "You've streaked before?"

His eyes widened a little, "Oh um, well it was a dare. But-"

"When was this?"

"Back in high school."

My mom laughed and smiled smugly, "Courtney's probably good at taking her clothes off in public places too."

"Oh, fuck you rita."

Then my father's eyes widened and Eli's widened a bit more and they pressed their lips together to watch the show. And I groaned because things had begun to go downhill and we hadn't even made it 30 minutes into the dinner.

"I'm just speaking the truth. You know, I've lost track of how many disgusting boyfriends you've had. At least this one seems to share your interests." And my mom had this way of insulting people while sounding like she was genuinely stating facts, it should have been considered a talent.