Phoenix
Every first Friday of the month meant dinner at the Wrenn house. Phoenix typically dreaded those dinners. He loved his parents—that was never in question—but every time he went, he would leave exhausted and irritable. It might have been easier if Elijah were there, like he had been when they were kids, but then again, maybe not. He had his own family now, and as much as Phoenix adored his niece, she could be quite a handful at times.
His childhood home was located toward the center of town, and Phoenix braced himself for conversation with his neighbors. Fortunately, it seemed they weren’t around, and he was able to duck inside without being spotted.
It was a strange feeling, being back after moving out. While his parents always insisted this was his home, he couldn’t help but feel like a visitor. His bedroom had been turned into his mother’s sewing room, so he didn’t even have that space to escape to.
As he hung his jacket on the coat tree in the hall, he heard a loud crash from the kitchen.
“Mom?” he called.
“In here!”
She didn’t sound to be in any distress, so he made his way through the living room and into the kitchen. Like everything else in the house, it had changed throughout the years. The walls had been painted nearly every color of the rainbow. Now, his parents had settled on a neutral grey. The cabinets were new—white with black fixtures. It looked like something out of his mother’s home living magazines.
A cabinet door was open, and Phoenix saw then what the commotion was. A number of plastic containers had tumbled out, scattering around his mother. When she spotted him, her expression brightened.
“Hi, honey,” she said, climbing out of the circle of Tupperware.
She rushed over and wrapped her arms around him. Phoenix stiffened at the contact before hugging her back, patting her arms until she let go.
“Sorry it’s a bit of a mess. I reached up to grab something to put the dill sauce in, and everything came with it.”
“Dill sauce?” He frowned.
She sighed, as though they’d had this conversation before. “Yes, sweetheart, to have with the salmon.”
Phoenix bit the inside of his cheek. Salmon was one of his least favorite foods, but one of his brother’s favorites. They’d been having this discussion since he was a child. It would do no good to have it again. He would just have to sit through it.
“Anyway, dinner’s almost ready, so you should get washed up.”
Letting out a small sigh, Phoenix nodded. She meant well, she really did, but Phoenix wondered sometimes if she even saw him as an adult.
“Where’s Dad?” he asked, heading over to the sink.
“On his way home. He should be here any minute.”
For the past thirty years, his dad had worked as a mechanical engineer at a yacht company just out of town. It had never been the most rewarding job, Phoenix knew, but a third of the men in town worked there, and it made a good living.
Drying his hands on his pants, Phoenix turned around and leaned back against the counter. “Is there anything I can do to help?” he asked.
While he did actually want to help, it would also let him see what else his mom had fixed. If the sides were okay, he could fill up on them and grab a snack at home.
“Not really,” his mom said with a smile. “I think I’ve just about got everything under control.”
“Oh. Okay.”
Silence fell between them, but it wasn’t awkward. At least not to Phoenix. He swayed slowly from side to side, watching his mother work. She had always known exactly what to do in the kitchen. A far cry from Phoenix, who always got worked up over the slightest deviance from a recipe, or if the food didn’t turn out exactly as it should.
A few minutes later, the door opened and closed, and his dad walked into the kitchen.
“Sorry I’m late. Martin wanted to talk about getting together to watch the football game next week.” He walked over and gave his wife a kiss on the cheek before turning to Phoenix.
“How’ve you been this week? I feel like we haven’t talked to you lately.”
“I’ve been fine.” There wasn’t really much new to tell, aside from Ace, and he really didn’t feel like getting into that conversation just yet.
“How’s Lucy?” his dad asked.
“She’s good.”
His dad let out a long-suffering sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose, but he didn’t say anything else. A few minutes later, his mom turned around to face them.
“Fix your drinks, boys. Dinner’s almost ready.”
While his dad grabbed a beer from the fridge, Phoenix stuck with water. Drinking around his parents always made him feel slightly uncomfortable—as though he were doing something he wasn’t allowed to do.
Finally, they sat down at the table, and Phoenix surveyed the damage. The salmon was out. There was no way he could bring himself to eat that. But the mashed potatoes would be fine, as would the salad and rolls. He filled his plate, taking a piece of salmon just to be nice.
“How was work tonight, James?” his mom asked.
His dad shrugged. “Same as always, I guess. How was Eliza?”
Twice a week, Phoenix’s mom kept his niece. It helped on childcare, since both his brother and sister-in-law worked all day.
“A bit more active than usual. She’s already putting together sentences. Pretty soon, she won’t even be a baby anymore.”
“I guess that just means they’ll have to have another one,” his dad said with a smile.
“Oh, you know I’d love for them to, since Phoenix doesn’t want any.”
Phoenix grit his teeth. She was talking about him like he wasn’t even there.
“I’m going to be in Wilmingson Life,” he blurted out. He realized almost immediately that was not the right way to get their attention off grandkids.
“Are you really?” his dad said. “What for?”
“My art.”
Phoenix’s art had always been a bit of a sore spot for them. When he had announced to his parents his intention to be an artist, it hadn’t gone well. They’d tried to convince him to take a job doing something else. Unfortunately, their ideas of what he would be good at didn’t match up with his skills. He’d lasted two weeks at a reception job at the electric company.
“Your art?” his mom repeated.
Phoenix nodded. “They’ve got a new reporter. Well, new old reporter. It’s Ace Sherridan.”
“Jack Sherridan’s boy?” his dad asked.
“Yes.” Phoenix was fairly sure Ace didn’t like being called that, but there was nothing he could do about it with his parents. “He’s moved back to town. He’s…changed.”
His mother hovered her fork in front of her face. “Changed how?”
He could feel his cheeks start to heat. That had definitely been the wrong thing to say. “He’s um… not as skinny as he was. He does Aikido. It’s a type of martial art.”
Realization seemed to dawn on his mom, because she grinned, a gleam in her eye. “Is this the same Ace Sherridan you were obsessed with in high school?”
The heat spread up his ears, and Phoenix looked down at his plate. “I wasn’t obsessed with him,” he protested, shredding his salmon. It wasn’t as though he had any appetite left anyway.
“Yes you were. I remember you coming in every day you had art and talking about him. When he’d picked up your pencil and given it back to you, how he’d sat one seat away from you. It was cute.”
Phoenix’s stomach turned. He would have given anything to be anywhere but here.
“He’s nice, that’s all.”
“Don’t mutter. We can’t hear you,” his mother chided gently. “I think it’s wonderful he’s back in town. Maybe you two will be little friends.”
“Maybe.”
That wasn’t exactly what Phoenix wanted from Ace, even though he knew an actual relationship was practically impossible. He continued to pick at his salmon as the conversation turned elsewhere. His mom and dad discussed something to do with politics and healthcare and who was really to blame. Phoenix wasn’t listening. The sooner he could get home, the better. That way he could actually be mentally ready for Ace to show up the next day.