Chapter 6 #3
What? He knows who I am? And he said they, not he? I fight back a curious squint.
“Hey,” I say, hoping this is over quick so I can stop focusing so hard on making eye contact. His eyes are so gorgeous it’s literally intimidating. Why can’t he be an ugly brother?
“So, you’re Hayden’s enbyfriend, huh?” Zach asks, but it’s not a simple question. There’s accusation in his voice.
“Yeah.” I bounce my shoulders as if to say so what? I need to make myself believe it if I’m going to survive here. That’s part of selling the lie, right? Gods, I’m a horrible person, but he’s got me on edge. Everyone else just went with it. He’s challenging it with nothing more than inflection.
A moment goes by and he doesn’t respond, he doesn’t say a word.
He just stands there, eyes boring into my very being.
If they weren’t so pretty and my outrageous lie didn’t depend on it right now, I’d look away.
Say something, Zach. I’d rather you accuse me in front of everyone than to have a stare-down.
I’m about to buckle when he squints harder and his lips move.
“What’s his favorite sport?”
“Huh?” I’m thrown off by the sudden question.
“Sport. What’s Hayden’s favorite sport?” Zachary asks again, his words thicker.
“Uh…” I stumble. Trivia? About Hayden? You want to quiz me to make sure I’m who I say I am. I know this though. “Basketball. He plays for Mitchell.”
“Okay.” Zach rocks his head from side to side, eyes searching for another question. “When’s his birthday?”
I start to open my mouth, but stop. Was it May or April?
I remember this. He came in with a friend, some oddly tall guy I think he called Anthony, on his birthday this year, and I put it in my phone.
Okay, maybe that’s a little weird, but it was a fact about him I wanted to keep.
But when was it? I know it was on the twenty-second, but was it April or May?
A grin rises on Zachary’s face. He knows he’s got me, but I’m not getting outed for not remembering Hayden’s birthday! I’m about to blurt May, but Mary-Anne speaks first.
“Zach, what’s gotten into you?” Mary-Anne scolds while I try to determine how bad getting it wrong would actually be. Just because I get it wrong doesn’t necessarily mean we’re not a couple, just that we’re not there yet. Right?
“Nothing. I’m good.” Zachary puts a hand up.
If I did that, my mom would be doing more right now than giving me a grimace. Must be nice.
“The twenty-second,” I blurt. I have to say something quick or they’ll all get suspicious, and I don’t want tonight to end that way. I want to have dinner with a nice family and feel like I belong, then get the hell out of Dodge. “Of May.”
Yes! That’s it. Because it was close to Memorial Day when they came in and his friend bought him a whole-ass cake for his birthday.
“O—” Zachary starts, but his mom cuts in.
“What is going on?” Mary-Anne shrugs, leaning over the kitchen island.
“Nothing, just a little fun quizzing. That’s it.” He squints at me then slaps my shoulder and smiles. “You pass.”
I don’t know whether to scream, cry, or laugh.
Maybe it would’ve been better had I gotten it wrong and they all figured it out now.
That way I could have run out the door, sped home, and rocked myself to sleep in tears, but it would be over.
Now I have to keep it up. Is that so bad though?
I glance around the room at all the happy faces and I’m reminded of all that I’m missing in life.
I huff and return Zach’s smile, hoping it comes off as genuine. Just get this over with.
Zachary starts toward the line, but not before scooting in closer and whispering in my ear, “I still don’t believe you.”
Before I can panic, I grip my necklace and breathe while putting on an annoyed face just for him.
Something that hopefully says he’s being unreasonable.
Something to convince him he’s wrong about being right.
He waves his hand toward the line, like some southern gentleman with a side of deviousness, and I get back in line.
He falls in behind. I swear to the gods I can feel his eyes lasering into the back of my head, trying to search for that clue he needs to out me as a fraud. Just breathe, Kenzie. Breathe.
Plate full, I take a seat at the family’s massive pine table.
It’s so large it seats six people per side, and a pale sandy-brown cloth runner splits it down the center.
Yet somehow, Zachary still manages to get a seat across from me.
He’s staring me down, but I refuse to make eye contact.
No matter how much I can feel him looking at me, judging me, I’m making the best of this super weird situation.
“Dad, would you say grace for us?” Mr. Marcus asks as I’m about to dig in.
I drop my spoon heaped full of broccoli casserole back to my plate and droop my shoulders, mostly involuntarily.
Gods, I probably look sheepish. Usually I’d just bless my own food and dive in.
The rest of my friends aren’t religious, so they don’t even bother, and group dinners…
I’ve not had one of those in a while. I about yelp when Super Old Gran’s cold soft hand grabs mine and holds it atop the table.
Then Catina reaches out to me and does the same.
I let her, giving her my best attempt at a gracious, not-at-all-horrified smile.
The others do the same, forming a chain of people around the table.
“Let us say grace.” Gramps bows his head. The others mimic him and close their eyes.
For a moment I stare around the table, awkward and unsure if I should follow along or not.
I’m not exactly religious, and I’m definitely not Christian, or Jewish, or Muslim, or whatever they are.
Probably Christian, but you never know. That doesn’t matter anyway, people can be whatever they want and believe what they want, I’m just not in other people’s personal spaces enough to see it, I guess.
I bow my head and close my eyes. There’s nothing wrong with respecting their faith as long as they don’t use it to hurt me, and I don’t see them being the type. So I quiet my mind and listen as Gramps prays.
“Lord, we come to you on this Thanksgiving day to give thanks for all that you have provided us, for the health you’ve given us, and for the joy of family that you’ve blessed us with.”
He goes on, speaking each request and thanks in that gruff old country voice.
I learn that Holly had gotten better from an episode of bronchitis a few weeks ago—Mr. Marcus joined in on that one with a sighed, “Amen”—Zachary got his first ever raise at work this week, someone named Delilah had beaten breast cancer years ago and a recent scan confirmed she was still cancer-free.
It took me a second to realize Delilah must be Super Old Gran. Then come the words I was expecting.
“And Lord, please be with Hayden in this hard time. We know you know what he needs, and we trust and pray that you’ll see him through this coma and bring him back to us better than before.
” Gramps coughs and continues his prayer.
I know these can go on for a while, but there is hot food waiting for me, Gramps, so let’s speed it up.
Immediately I regret the thought. “Lord, we also would be remiss not to thank you for sending Kenzie into our Hayden’s life, and for putting him in the right place at the right time to look over him. May you please bless them both.”
That last part brings a smile to my face, despite Gramps calling me a he. I can let that pass. At the same time, it causes a lump of guilt to build below my Adam’s apple.
Gramps says, “Amen” and my eyes open to everyone else raising their heads and letting go of each other’s hands.
There’s no delay between the prayer and the family digging in, and honestly, now that I’ve finally sampled the broccoli casserole I understand why.
As quickly as hands go for their forks, conversations start up around the table.
I try not to be nosy, but little bits of their exchanges drift over the table and right into my ear.
Something about a cousin stealing a television from the local electronics store.
Mr. Marcus says he’s in jail now. Oh wow.
I try to tune out that conversation. Holly’s telling Catina she thinks her mom might have gotten her a new phone for Christmas.
“He’s a piece of shit,” Super Old Gran blurts, grabbing my attention.
I clamp my teeth together. Super Old Gran? I can’t say I expected anything like that to come out of her mouth. She looks so innocent and sweet.
“Grandma!” Mary-Anne eyes her down.
My eyes slip to Zachary sitting next to her. He scoops another helping of green beans, not fazed in the slightest. He sees me looking, though, and his brow raises. I yank my eyes away, back to Mary-Anne and Super Old Gran.
“He is, we all know it, y’all just don’t say it.” Super Old Gran shrugs, and like Zachary, goes back to eating.
“But we have”—Mr. Marcus alludes to me—“company.”
Yep, me. Super Old Gran looks at me and grins.
“I’m sure you have some lowlifes in your family too, darling,” she says.
At first, I’m not one hundred percent sure how to answer. It has all eyes on me at once, and I definitely know lowlifes—Dad’s side of the family is full of them—but how do I answer?
“Mother,” Kiki scolds, patting her hand across the table. “Maybe not now.”
“I do,” I blurt finally. “I do. My dad’s side of the family. Most of them.”
Smiles transform into grimaces around the table, and I catch a few awws. I’m past needing sympathy, but I don’t mind calling them out now and then. Is that spiteful?
“They all abandoned us after my dad died.” I hold back a grimace of my own. Why did I decide that would be the first thing I talk about tonight? It’s a real downer topic. Today is a celebration of Thanksgiving. You’re supposed to be thankful. Especially around Hayden’s family.
“I’m so sorry, Kenzie,” Mary-Anne says in a calm, soothing tone, smiling warmly.
“No, no. It’s okay.” I try to be upbeat and bring things back around. “It was a long time ago. I’m over it.”
A few nods make their way around the table, and before anyone else can say something—or worse, ask about my mom’s side of the family—I divert the conversation.
“So how long have y’all lived here?” I look around to signify the house. It still amazes me I’m in such a place. “It’s beautiful.”
“We built it in 2011. Hayden was only four back then.” Mr. Marcus smiles, reminiscing about when his sleeping boy was a child. Hayden as a toddler. I can’t imagine it. In my head he’s only ever been the dreamy six-foot-tall guy who could throw me around.
“He was three, actually,” Mary-Anne interjects. “We started building in March that year.”
“Ah yes.” Mr. Marcus nods thoughtfully, and part of me wishes I hadn’t brought it up now. I hit a spot, I think. “That’s back when we thought he was a terror. Nah, that was this one.”
Mary-Anne points directly at Zachary.
“What?” He shrugs.
“You were a handful,” Mary-Anne says.
“No, he wasn’t,” Kiki says.
The smirk on Mary-Anne’s face says Mr. Marcus might be on to something.
“You just always had a soft spot for him, Kristi,” Super Old Gran croaks. “He near burned down my house.”
“That was an accident,” Mary-Anne reminds her grandmother with little emotion.
“I know, but I’m still going to give him hell for it.” Super Old Gran leans over and eyes Zachary with a big mischievous smile. “You were a little pyromaniac.”
“I don’t remember any of this.” Zachary raises his hands in surrender.
“Likely story,” Mary-Anne giggles.
“I don’t!”
“Hayden was always the athletic one. He wanted to play baseball or basketball. Wanted to chase you around the field playing tag. Anything that exhausted the crap out of me.” Mr. Marcus is smiling so wholesomely, like the memory of being out of breath is one of his favorites.
“Zachary…now Zachary was a whole other animal.”
I glance Zachary’s way to find his mouth is gaping, but that doesn’t stop them. I say keep going, this is getting good.
“He didn’t mind being outside, but he always wanted to be making something. Which was great until he discovered fire was a thing he could use.” Mr. Marcus laughs and turns to Zachary. “You remember that model jet we got you for Christmas? What was it? F-22?”
“Yeah, yeah.” Zachary rolls his eyes, but he’s all smiles. He even smiles at me for a second, and I have to look away.
“This one here thought he could use some fireworks he’d stolen from our little Fourth of July haul the previous summer to build makeshift engines for the model to make it fly,” Mr. Marcus explains. Everyone at the table, except Holly, is shaking their heads.
“Did it work?” I ask. Then it hits me that maybe that wasn’t the question to ask, but I want to know. Did it?
“Sort of,” Zachary laughs. “It moved like five feet, then just blew up for like a minute straight. It was cool.”
“Fortunately, he was smart enough then to wear eye protection and get away once he lit the fuse, but God.” Mr. Marcus shakes his head. “You’ve probably taken years off my life scaring me with that stuff.”
“Nah, I just strengthened your heart.” Zachary grins.
“He knows better now.” Mary-Anne raises a brow. “At least he better.”
Zachary grins and nods, then leans in toward the table and whispers toward me, but loud enough so all can hear it. “She’s right. I keep a fire extinguisher around now.”
So Zachary’s an asshole but funny. Noted.