13 The Lasagna #2
Mike and Ross started bickering at each other as a middle-aged man appeared at the top of a winding staircase twenty or so feet away.
His hair was combed back perfectly, he had a salt-and-pepper beard, and he was wearing black-framed glasses.
Right away, you could see the resemblance.
He had almost the same face as his two boys, with a sharp jawline, high cheekbones, and light-brown eyes.
Ross was a bit taller and a bit leaner, like his mother, while Mike was shorter and stockier, like his dad.
“Boys,” Ross’s father said in a stiff, formal tone.
“Dad,” Mike said.
The man walked past us and into the kitchen.
It was weird that Ross hadn’t said hello to him, I thought, but I was the only one who seemed to have noticed.
We went in soon to sit down, and I was given the not-exactly-enviable place between Ross and Mike.
At least I wouldn’t be bored, I thought.
Will and Naya were across from us. When the lasagna arrived, they looked like they were going to take off running with it.
Will’s parents sat each at one end of the table and didn’t look at each other, and when we were served, everyone focused on their food without talking.
Ross looked angry, his father looked serious, and Mike kept refilling his wineglass.
The rest of us waited for someone to say something.
It was so uncomfortable that I imagined the lights going out and coming back on with someone murdered, as in a game of Clue.
“Well,” Ross’s father finally said, breaking the silence. “You must be Jenna. You’re the only one I’m unacquainted with here.”
“Yeah,” I said, feeling put on the spot. “Nice to meet you.”
“I’m not sure if it’s thanks to you, but if so, I’m very grateful you managed to convince Jack to come. It’s been months since I’ve had dinner with him.”
“Why do you say that?” Jack asked with a surly expression. “Did you miss me?”
Sensing the tension, Mary tried to change the subject, saying, “Jenna, I told my husband you have quite an eye for art. That you and I have the same tastes. And trust me, I—”
“What are you studying?” her husband asked, interrupting us.
I had the feeling he was inquiring as to my value, the way he might with a fancy watch or car. I doubted I’d make the grade, but I responded, “English.”
“English? Oh no, you should drop that. That won’t take you anyplace. If it’s true you have an eye for art, you should…”
“Honey,” Mary said sweetly, “don’t start. We’re trying to have dinner.”
“I’m just making a suggestion,” he responded without looking at them. “And I’m sure Jenna appreciates it, don’t you, dear?”
“Uh, sure,” I said, feeling like an idiot.
His mouth full of lasagna, Mike interjected, “I was supposed to play a concert today. I skipped it to come to this lovely feast. I hope everyone’s happy.”
“We’re very happy to have you here, Michael,” his mother responded with a smile.
“I hope none of your fans kill themselves,” Ross replied.
“I don’t know about that,” Mike said, “but I’m sure there’s a number of girls at home crying.
You’ve seen them. Remember how they were all over me at my last show?
It just does something to you when you see a girl in a tight T-shirt with your name on it and a pair of shorts so short you can see her… ”
“Michael, I believe we get the idea,” his father said.
To try to inject a note of happiness into the evening, I told Mike I’d really enjoyed his concert the other day. It wasn’t true, but I didn’t think sincerity was the most important thing just then. He thanked me, saying, “You’ll make a hell of a sister-in-law.”
Naya burst out, “Jenna, I think you might need to get your ears checked,” but Will stopped her, serving her more lasagna and telling Mary the exhibition had been interesting.
“Thank you, honey,” she said. “Too bad Michael missed it.”
“I had a thing,” Mike told her.
His father said arrogantly, “So, you’re still with your little band.
” His expression was condescending, and Mike’s face showed how little he cared.
When he told his father it wasn’t just any band, it was his band, and they were good, and he should check them out some time, his father stopped him with the question, “And has it ever crossed your mind to get an actual job? One that would, for instance, pay you and bring some stability to your life?”
“No can do, Pops,” Mike responded. “That’s just not who I am.”
The look on Jack Sr.’s face was like the look on my father’s face when Shannon told him she was pregnant.
By now, Ross seemed to have given up on interacting and had been staring into his lap for the past five minutes.
Instinctively, I reached out and took his hand under the table.
When he looked up, surprised, I smiled at him.
That relaxed him, and I stroked his fingers until it was time to break the silence again, which I did by telling Mary how good her lasagna was.
Will agreed, and she seemed grateful and started telling us what her trick was, but her husband interrupted her, asking me what my parents did.
I didn’t like telling him. What did it matter to him? Probably he would just look down on them. But I had no choice, so I replied, “My mom’s a nurse and my dad was a truck driver.”
“Was?”
“He hurt his back and he had to give it up.”
“Brothers or sisters?” he asked.
“Four. Three brothers, one sister. All older.”
Trying to be positive, Mary remarked that we must be very close, since my face lit up when I talked all of them him, but her husband seemed to ignore her completely, needling me further, “And is a nurse’s salary enough to take care of such a large family?
” He stared at me as he took a sip of his wine.
I squinted as I tried to find the right words, and struggled to understand why I felt ashamed. Ross’s hand tensed in my lap. I don’t know if he was squeezing to help calm me down or himself.
“Dad gets a disability payment. And my older sister’s out on her own. She’s got a kid. She had him when he was seventeen…”
“He must have been an accident. Why didn’t she get an abortion or give him up for adoption?”
“She just didn’t. And I’m glad, and everyone else is, too. We love Owen. And it was good for my sister. She matured overnight, and I’m sure she’d never regret her decision.”
I sounded angry now, and I didn’t care. Ross’s father gave me a snobbish smile as he said, “I see.” I knew that look.
I’d seen it before. The last time was when Nelle had asked me to go to some fancy perfume shop and I’d shown up in jeans and a T-shirt.
I remember she looked at me and the cashier and rolled her eyes, and the cashier had giggled.
I felt as insulted then as I did now, and Ross could tell.
He tried to pull his hand away, probably to bang it on the table. But I stopped him.
When his father asked what my brothers did for a living, Ross stopped him, saying, “This is a dinner, Dad, not a job application. I don’t know why you always have to interrogate everybody.”
It was at that point that the conversation turned ugly.
Ross’s father asked if I had a job, and I said no, but that I was looking for one.
The next thing he wanted to know was whether I paid rent.
Ross tried to stop him, but he said he was just curious, and when Ross protested that it was his apartment and he could do as he liked with it, his father asserted that he had a right to know what was going on with his son’s life.
I had to admit that I didn’t pay anything, at which point Ross’s father asked Will whether he paid rent.
Will looked at me almost apologetically as he admitted that he did.
Ross was furious. I tried to interject, saying I was just staying there temporarily, and Ross’s father said, “Yes, roommate situations usually are temporary. And they usually involve paying rent. Tell me now, Ross, is Jenna your girlfriend?”
“Why do you care?” Ross responded. Naya tried to defend me by saying I had a boyfriend, but I don’t know if that helped.
Ross’s father simply said, “Oh, so you have a boyfriend, but you’re sharing a bed with my son.
Very interesting. What is it exactly that you do, then, Jenna, to live with my son for free? ”
My mouth fell open as Ross stood and kicked his chair back, knocking it over.
“We’re done here,” he shouted. “Come on, Jen.” Confused, Will and Naya stood up, too.
Ross’s father shouted, “Oh, don’t be childish,” but we were already on our way out.
Mary buried her face in her hands. Even Mike, who was usually impervious to everything, looked upset.
Ross turned back around and shouted something, but Naya took my hand and led me away, through the living room and out to Ross’s car.
I didn’t know what to say. I felt humiliated.
And guilty. Because it was my fault Ross was arguing with his dad.
Will told me not to take it personally, and Naya said the old man wasn’t supposed to be here.
He was usually away traveling, she added, and reminded me not to blame myself.
“He doesn’t get along with either of his sons. There’s always something.”
“He doesn’t get along with anyone,” Will asserted.
Five minutes passed, and I was starting to worry about Ross when the garage door opened and he walked in.
He looked like hell. He got in and slammed the door.
I was almost scared at how angry he was.
He turned the key, and Mike rapped on his window.
Since Ross seemed paralyzed, I lowered my window and he came around to my side of the car and asked, “Hey, little bro. Can I stay at your place tonight? You can imagine I don’t really feel like sticking around here. ”