Eye Roll Dinner

(Violet)

I stood in the foyer of the house and looked around. I couldn’t remember the last time I slowed down enough to appreciate the house. Of all the rooms in it, this had always been my favorite. I remember at one point there was a fish tank in the corner. Dad used to have some contraption where he’d suck the water out of the tank, just enough so the fish wouldn’t die. He’d scrub the inside of the tank, clean all the decorations, check the PH of the water, completely obsess over the thing, all the while whistling random notes. He loved his fish, that was for sure. But one night, something busted in the filter and water got all over the floor. The fish died, and Dad threw out the tank. There was a carpet where the fish tank used to be, with a corner table and a stack of magazines sitting on it. Under the carpet on the floor, there was still a stain from the water damaging the wood floor.

I used to set up my little table and chairs, collect my stuffed animals, and have epic tea parties. Mom always asked me why I loved the foyer so much. After all, I had a bedroom of my own. I told her it was the chandelier. Not a real chandelier, but the light in the foyer was fancy, and it reminded me of an exquisite chandelier. It just made the entire tea party feel more noble.

The truth?

I played in the foyer because when the door would open, it was Dad coming home from work. I hated the idea of him coming home and me not hearing him because I was in my room. Or having to rush all the way down the stairs to see him. So I wanted to be right there, waiting for him, able to hug him right away.

I wiped a stray tear from the corner of my eye as I stepped away from memory lane. To my left was the living room. There on the couch rested Dad. Sitting up, head tilted to the side, sleeping. The medicines were hard on his body and made him sleep like I never saw him sleep before. The man with a thick head of hair and scruff on his face looked old, tired, wrinkled, and his hair was really thinning.

I sucked in a breath and sat next to him on the couch.

The house was quiet.

Mom was in the kitchen, cooking dinner. The smell was out of this world. I heard her go out back and let her go to have a breath or two. Normally, when she was cooking dinner, Dad was there picking at the food, getting his hand slapped and getting yelled at.

On the TV was some Western movie. Really bad acting. Guns that went off with smoke and the added sound effect of a bang or a zing. I grinned. Dad loved these movies. I never understood why.

“You can change it,” a weak voice said.

I looked and saw Dad was awake.

“Good morning,” I said.

He cleared his throat. “Guess I dozed off, huh?”

“It’s okay.”

“It’s not me, Violet.”

“It’s not you,” I said. “It’s the medicine.”

Dad reached for my hand and squeezed it. “I don’t like that look on your face.”

“What look?”

“The look of ‘goodbye.’ The look of memories. I’m not going anywhere, Violet. This house isn’t going anywhere either.”

“I know that. Can’t I just think about life a little?”

Dad groaned as he pushed at the couch to sit up more. He leaned forward and grabbed at his right side before taking a few deep and labored breaths.

“What about life has you thinking?” he asked me.

“The usual,” I whispered.

“You know, I still never got the story of what happened with Mason.” He waved a hand. “I know, I’m not your mother. I don’t get the privilege of being let inside some of the girly stuff, but I do care. I liked that guy. He was tough. Cocky. He had a thing for you, you know. I could see that between you two.”

“Things just don’t always work out, Dad,” I said softly. “A lot happened at once, and I guess he and I just…slipped apart.”

“Well, let me tell you one thing,” Dad said. He grabbed the table, leaned forward, and fought to stand, waving me off when I tried to help. He stood there, tall and proud, even though he was sick. “If you let me being sick stop your life for a second, you’re a fool, Violet. If you were happy there, go there. If you’re happy here, stay here. I won’t pry into your personal life, but I want you to be happy.”

“I’m working…”

“Let me put it this way. Let’s say this cancer gets the best of me and I check out.”

“Dad! Don’t say that.”

He chuckled. “Give me a second here. If that were the case, that this ended up really nasty, my last wish for you would be to find happiness and hold it tight.”

I swallowed the lump in my throat. “Thanks, Dad.”

He winked at me and started to walk away.

“Hey, where are you going?” I asked.

He paused in the doorway. “I’m going to pick at the food. I have a little appetite. Plus, I have to annoy your mother while she’s cooking dinner. It’s a tradition for us.”

I sighed with a hopeful relief. I grew up with that as my example of love, marriage, and finding a way through the twists and turns of life. My parents had a great marriage, no matter what. I waited with a smile on my face for my mother to yell out his name when he started eating the food.

Before that could happen, the doorbell rang.

I popped up off the couch and went to the door. Mom said neighbors had been stopping by to bring food and condolences, and it really pissed Dad off.

I figured I’d head this one off and tell whoever it was that Dad was resting and we were getting ready for dinner.

I opened the door and took a step back.

“Surprise. Figure dinner could use some flowers and a bottle of wine.”

I was shocked…and maybe not in a good way, either.

“Who’s at the door?” my mother called out.

I swallowed hard and said his name. “It’s Davis…”

* * *

He leaned over the table and scooped up more mashed potatoes. He slapped them to his plate and returned the spoon to the bowl.

“Barb,” Davis said, “I have to say, these are the best potatoes I’ve ever had.”

Davis smiled big, waiting for attention.

“Um, yes,” Mom said. “I mean, thank you. Yes. I appreciate that.”

Davis nodded, then shoved a spoonful into his mouth as he stared at Mom.

Davis hadn’t been invited to dinner, but he’d showed up anyway. I tried to apologize to my mother secretly a handful of times, but she told me not to worry about it. Davis was my boyfriend, and he was welcome to the house anytime he wanted.

Boyfriend.

That was a heavy word, wasn’t it?

In high school, it was the coolest word ever. Having Davis as my boyfriend was like winning some prize. But now, as an adult with responsibilities and a little better understanding of feelings, the word meant something else.

Davis ate like he hadn’t had a cooked meal in weeks.

And he controlled the conversation the way he wanted it all to go.

My peaceful dinner with my parents had been invaded.

“So, Hank, how are you feeling?” Davis asked. He had this dry tone to him, like a politician asking the question because he had to.

“I feel great,” Dad said.

“That’s good,” Davis said. “You know, having good thoughts is part of the healing process.” Davis looked at me, nodding. “I read that. In a medical journal once. It’s a proven thing.”

“Right,” Dad said. “Happiness is the key to everything. Without it, we’ve got nothing. Money means nothing. Life means nothing. Love is forced.”

I felt the heat building in my cheeks. Dad was making a point to me without actually looking at me.

“I agree, Hank,” Davis said. “I’d like to propose a toast.”

Davis stood up, sending his chair flying back. He grabbed his wine glass and stood up. I looked at Mom, and she forced a big smile while her eyes darted left to right. I looked at Dad, and I could see him mentally debating whether to tell Davis to sit the hell down or go the hell home.

But he kept quiet.

“For tonight,” Davis said. “For Barb and her amazing ability to cook this meal. To Hank, for healing through happiness and a good doctor. To my Violet. For all her hard work and the money she’s making. And I have to give myself a little toast, if that isn’t too rude.”

Davis laughed and looked at all of us.

None of us laughed.

“Right,” Davis. “I, uh, was able to secure a big contract for my company. One of the biggest clients. We’ve been in talks for months now. I finally just went down to their office…”

Davis began to tell a long-winded story as the food grew cold.

I looked at Dad and felt horrible.

He sensed it and quickly winked at me.

It’s okay.

Dad then rolled his eyes as Davis just kept talking. It was a really obvious eye-roll, looking like some actor on a reality show.

“And one more thing,” Davis said.

Dad curled his lip. He jammed his fork into a piece of the roast Mom had cooked and started to eat. He looked right at Davis as he did so.

Davis quickly stopped talking.

“Hank,” Mom growled. “What is wrong with you?”

“I have to eat,” Dad said. “You know what the doc said. When the appetites comes back, I have to take advantage of it.”

“Of course,” Davis said. “Cheers to you all.”

“Cheers,” Mom said with a big smile.

Davis sat and touched my arm. “Sorry about talking so long.”

“No worries,” I said.

“So, Davis,” Dad said. “Glad to see things are working in your company. Tell me again, what happened with your baseball stuff? I swore you were going pro, right?”

“Oh, those were old dreams,” Davis said. “You know how things go.”

“Right,” Dad said. “Never took you for one to quit.”

“Dad,” I said.

“What?” Dad asked.

“Hank,” Mom said. “Let’s just enjoy this meal. Together. I’ll get some dessert in a few. And coffee. Who wants coffee?”

Davis eyed Dad. They had a little stare-down and it made me very uncomfortable.

Luckily, dinner didn’t last much longer. Mom brought out coffee and cheesecake, and we ate and drank in silence. Before the conversation could pick up again, Davis excused himself to take a phone call. Mom grabbed some plates to clean up, leaving just me and Dad at the table.

“I’m sorry for that, Violet,” he said. “That was wrong of me. To rag on him. I…”

“It’s fine,” I said. “I’m sorry he showed up. I didn't invite him. I’m so…”

I stood up. I shook my head.

As I left the dining room, Dad reached out and touched my wrist. “Violet. Happiness. Please. Remember that.”

Davis came back through the front door, tapping his phone to his hand. “I hate to do this, but I have to go. Just got a call from Jack. He needs me to run a few more figures on this deal. Might be a late night for me. I’ll be at the office.”

“That’s okay,” I said. “I’m going to talk with Dad a little and head back home.”

“I’m sorry that he’s not feeling well,” Davis whispered. “I don’t take anything he said offensively. Just so you know. I know he didn’t mean it.”

Oh, but he did, Davis. He doesn’t like you.

I forced a nod.

Davis hugged me and kissed my cheek. He made sure to weasel his way into the kitchen and hug Mom, thanking her for dinner. Then he shook hands with Dad and wished him better health.

Then Davis left.

I felt like a weight had been lifted off my shoulders.

Dad walked his way to the kitchen. Mom was doing dishes when I butted in and made her take a break.

“I have something to say,” Dad announced.

I turned off the water and looked over my shoulder.

“I think the word kids your age use,” Dad said, pointing at me, “is douche. Or is it douchebag?”

I snorted in shock.

Mom slapped a towel off the counter. “Hank!”

“What? Am I wrong?”

“That’s Violet’s boyfriend,” Mom said. “He was just trying to be nice. Polite.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Dad said. “I like the other guy better. Bigger. Stronger. Meaner.”

“Meaner?” Mom asked. “Oh, Jesus, Hank. They’re not cars.”

“Right,” Dad said. “Sorry for that. He’s not a douche or a douche bag. Whichever one it is.”

Dad winked at me again and then shuffled away.

Mom looked at me and put her hands to her hips. “I’m sorry, Violet. He has his moments when he’s not feeling well. He loves you. He’s worried about you.”

I nodded. “I get that. He’s always worried about me. I should show him my bank account. Maybe he’d relax.” Then I cringed. “Was that greedy?”

“Hardly,” Mom said. She came to the sink and started to dry the dishes. “You’ve worked hard, and you’ve done great with your life so far. Just keep doing that.”

“Am I an idiot for dating Davis again? Trying to assure myself of comfort?”

“I can’t speak to how you feel,” Mom said.

I sighed. “Well, whatever happened before doesn’t matter. The apartment finally called me back. After months of fighting over my stupid lease, they agreed to give me some of my security deposit back. You know they won’t even mail it to me? I have to go pick it up.”

“Just a minor inconvenience,” Mom said.

“Yeah.”

I washed more dishes and then caught my reflection in the window.

I’d have to go pick up the check in person.

Which left me with one question.

Would I see him? Would I see Mason?