Chapter 31
thirty-one
LOCKE
Rosalie is always right. When we enter Grant and Liliana’s apartment on Friday night, it’s flawlessly decorated.
Every piece of furniture is in a perfectly symmetrical position—from the white couch to the opened curtains.
Not a single brown ribbon out of place, and not a spot of lint dusting the hardwood floors.
Liliana and Grant’s knitted ochre dress and cardigan combo are even coordinated to the décor.
I’m not sure when they had time to pull this off. Grant, Billie, and I stayed out late last night walking around the city. The attention to detail looks too polished to be done in one morning by two people.
Maybe I shouldn’t underestimate Liliana and just appreciate how put together their apartment is. It does look like she ran the place like a boot camp. A cozy, fall-themed decorating boot camp.
When Grant comes to greet us, Rosie makes a comment on how good the turkey looks. She’s right about that, too. Our containers of adobo and lumpia look tiny next to it on the kitchen island.
My brother chuckles. “I didn’t even know she could cook a turkey, but I got coached on basting for an hour straight.”
“Told you she runs a tight ship.” Rosie elbows his side and smiles. “Don’t pretend you don’t love it.”
“If you see her lecturing me on how to do something, don’t help me. I’m exactly where I want to be.” His hands go up, laughter echoing throughout the apartment.
We keep joking. Billie and Derek arrive within a few minutes of each other, both with dishes of their own. I’m sure Billie’s mashed potatoes are instant and not at all “seasoned to perfection” like she claims, but I let her have this one. She’s too excited about tonight for me burst her bubble.
I’ve been in this apartment enough times to know the long dining table is new. The square gray table is gone, replaced with a longer, rectangular one, that can accommodate more people than the last.
We’re seated at the new table with our plates of food, small talk barely dying down when Rosie asks exactly what I’m thinking.
“When did you guys get this table?”
Liliana finishes her sip of red wine, then says, “A month ago, about. Do you guys like it?”
“It’s nice. Really sturdy.” Derek answers, diamond earrings catching the light when he examines the wood.
“Good. We bought it with you guys in mind, for us to have dinners together.”
“Oh my gosh that is so freaking cute.” My little sister drops her fork to hold a hand to her heart. “Parties at this apartment on the weekly, then?”
The table is laughing, me included, when Grant clears his throat. “Actually, that’s something we want to bring up to you guys. We have an announcement.”
My eyes go wide. I side glance Rosie, who is already slapping a hand over her mouth.
“Holy shit are you guys pregnant?!”
“No!” Liliana throws her hands up and looks at Rosie with a shocked expression. “How did you get pregnant from ‘partying’ and ‘apartment’?!”
“I don’t know! Grant said announcement and that’s the first thing I thought!”
“She just wants you guys to have kids,” Billie says before faking a cough. “Me too.”
Liliana takes a deep breath and shakes her head. “There won’t be any kids before we get married. And no marriage before either of us has a 401K account.”
From his place at her right, Grant’s shoulders sag, and Derek laughs into his bite of stuffing.
Liliana takes a breath. “No kids. Grant said that because the two of us will be moving into a house together in the next year or so, and we wanted to let you know it’s always open to you guys. Our home is your home.”
A sharp warmth expands throughout my chest. Suddenly, almost uncontrollably, and I wonder if these are the kind of emotions Rosie tells me she struggles to keep at bay. When she’s so touched by the love she’s shown, she can’t help by let herself be taken over by them.
It’s overwhelming when I think of how welcoming my friends have been, but especially now, when Liliana and Grant explicitly open their doors to us. They created a safe space in these people.
I grab Rosalie’s hand under the table and my girl bounces in her seat.
“I’m so happy for you two! That’s so exciting!” I think she wants to clap, but she stays anchoring me instead. “How did you get a house?!”
“Without 401Ks.” My sister throws in her inevitable joke and chuckle half-heartedly.
“My parents are moving back home to Hawai’i.
” Liliana’s arms are moving back and forth, like she’s turning and twisting her hands in her lap.
Her head is tilted down, but I can see the shy smile on her face.
“They won’t be fully retiring for another few years, but they’ll be staying in O’ahu primarily and teaching remotely.
They said Grant and I can take care of my childhood home during the transition. ”
When she tilts her head up, Liliana’s normal, stern expression is gone. Instead, she has a wide smile and eyes that look lost in childlike joy.
“Then, after they’ve completely moved back, we can have the house. As long as they get to stay there when they visit.”
Rosie squeals. Derek congratulates them, and I smile at both of my friends. Already building a family and a home with each other.
“I’m so happy for you two. Congratulations.”
That overwhelming feeling is there again.
Surrounded by the decorations of fall leaves and faux pinecones on the white tablecloth, I remember this is the first holiday I’ve spent encased with love.
Instead of a lonely night watching anime or playing video games, I’m here.
Celebrating milestones with people who have me in their lives because they care about me, and not because it’s beneficial to their own wants.
They just love me; Care about me. The muscles of my chest constrict. I breathe through the realization that I’ve never felt love or family like this before. I don’t ever want to go without it again.
Friendsgiving—appropriately named, I think—continues. We eat more food, crack more jokes, and Derek shares his own life update. That he’s starting to work at his uncle’s sports memorabilia business to get together some cash and move out on his own.
I think there’s a story there, but no one presses. When he’s comfortable enough to share it with us, he will. I’ll be happy to listen.
The vibes are so high, I consider bringing up my gaming studio dream. Everyone would happily support me—that much I know. I only decide against it because I want to establish myself wholeheartedly, both in my mind and in my future, before I share it with everyone else.
Half the table is on their third plate of food, and the other half is discussing their dessert options, when there’s a loud knock at the door. A banging, really. Violent. Non-stop, despite a doorbell existing right next to the door handle.
Rosie is closest. From the edge of the kitchen island, she scrunches her eyebrows and turns, beelining straight to the door.
The banging doesn’t stop. Louder, harder, and everyone is looking at each other in worry.
“I’m coming, damn!” Rosalie yells at the door.
My head starts to spin. By instinct alone, I know exactly who it is.
“Don’t open it!”
It’s too late. Whether she couldn’t hear my warning or just didn’t register what I was saying in time, Rosie pulls the door open and my father comes storming in.
He’s fuming. I swear there’s steam rolling off the tips of his graying hair, but it’s probably my imagination. Hopefully.
“I fucking knew it.” He swears, taking a menacing sweep across the space. His eyes stop on us. Me, sitting casually in one seat, with Grant having moved next to me to talk about life. Ironically, I was just telling him about the text exchange with Dad before he showed up. It’s a sick joke.
“Locke.” My name isn’t yelled, but my father’s tone is strong enough to strike a chord.
His voice echoes around the room and in my mind, torturing me while he stomps across the apartment to my side.
“I told your ass I’d find you. You’re not even smart enough to have your sister turn off her location.
This is what you have the fucking nerve to blow me off for?
A dinner with your stupid little friends and siblings in the apartment I’m paying for? ”
I must be pale. Lighter than usual. I feel the blood rush out of my body.
As far as I know, my father doesn’t have any knowledge of who Derek is.
This is a Keller McCarthy first impression, but still, he doesn’t hold back.
Throws around insults and swear words like he doesn’t care that someone is going to have a negative opinion on our family.
This level of anger is one I didn’t know was capable from him.
Slowly, shaking, I push out of my chair. Swallow the large lump in my throat and fix my glasses before saying, “Don’t call them stupid.”
He scoffs. Throws his hands in his hair and rolls his eyes, and I remind myself how to stand. Spine straight.
From here, at my tallest height, he looks small again. Less intimidating even when he yells through gritted teeth and points to the door.
“We’re leaving. Now. I’m done with your bullshit. You’re never going to see these people again.”
Shoulders back. Keeping myself as stone-willed as I can. I’m still terrified, still wondering what punishment he’ll try to inflict on me once this is over, but I’m angrier than I am scared. These people have become my family, and I won’t have him insulting them.
I think about the times he looked down on people in his office, at home; At me. I channel the anger from those days while forcing my voice to steady.
“Watch your mouth when you’re talking about them.”
I see it with my own two eyes. My father, backing away. It’s probably more from shock than anything else, but to egg myself on, I’ll say he’s the one becoming scared.
Dad laughs. Devoid of humor, and full of disbelief, he shakes his head and laughs in my face. “You are such a waste of a son.”
“Fuck you.”