Chapter 2
SETH
I step into Chez Michel and glance around.
The brick-red walls with their garish artwork have never been to my taste, but the food is always good, and this restaurant has been my mother’s favorite since I was a child.
I would hear about her and my father coming here to celebrate one promotion or another.
My mother is already waiting for me at a table near the windows. I stride over to join her, feeling as if I’m walking up to a hangman’s noose.
“You think this whole Thanksgiving dinner is a good idea?” I ask.
“Right to the point.” She looks hurt, but she hides it with a smile. “It’s good to see you, Seth. Thank you for coming.”
I’m only here because I want to make sure Thanksgiving isn’t a disaster for Madison.
Myself, I can handle a little awkwardness.
So can Madison, honestly. She knows what she’s getting into with my parents.
But I don’t want anyone to cause her pain, or make her feel rejected. She’s had enough of that recently.
And some of it was my fault.
Jesus, I was an idiot to pretend I had no feelings for her.
Well, we’re past that now.
A server comes along to take our order. I ask for a salad with braised tuna. It’s something I can eat quickly if the conversation is going badly.
Once the server takes off again, Mom gives me another tentative smile. “To answer your earlier question, yes, I think Thanksgiving dinner is a good idea. It’s time we really became a family.”
I wonder why she has a sudden interest. “Is this because of what Erich Pointer did to you and Dad?”
“Yes, and no,” she says thoughtfully. “I believe that was the spark. You showed that you cared about us, in coming to our rescue like that. I know you must have used considerable resources. It made me reflect that we never did anything to deserve that kind of response. We weren’t the most attentive parents. ”
That’s putting it mildly, but I refrain from saying so. “And you want Madison to come to this dinner?”
“If you two are serious, then yes. She’s a part of your life.”
“You didn’t react so well to that news when I first shared it with you.” I set her up by sharing the news like that, I know I did. I was a dick. And other than the hurt it caused Madison, I don’t really regret it.
My mother’s rings flash while she gesticulates. “You can’t possibly be angry at me for my surprise.”
“I’m angry at you for calling Madison and berating her afterward.”
She has the grace to look at her lap. Whether she’s truly ashamed of her behavior, I’ll probably never know.
The truth is, I don’t know my mother. Or my father, for that matter.
Perhaps it isn’t fair, but a part of me blames my mother more for her absence than I do my father.
Actually, I know it isn’t fair. My father is equally to blame for Kyle’s and my lonely childhoods, and our lack of a relationship now.
“It wasn’t my proudest moment,” Mom admits. “I will be sure to apologize to her.”
I must look skeptical, because she adds, “Seth, I truly do want us to rebuild our family. If Madison is once again a part of our family, your father and I will accept her with open arms.”
Our food arrives, and with it, an easy change of subject. Mom waxes on about how good her veal is, and asks me detailed questions about my salad. It’s an innocuous, boring conversation, the kind you’d hear between two strangers who have nothing in common.
She asks me some questions about my work, and expresses a smidgeon of maternal concern over the dangerous nature of the job. I reassure her that Damiano and I are mostly found behind desks, not on missions.
Finally, we finish and she insists on paying the check. As we head out of the restaurant together, she says, “So, five o’clock on Thursday?”
“We’ll be there. Or I could come alone.”
“What about Madison?”
“Bringing her might be a bad idea, to be honest. Yes,” I say, before she can argue, “I know you want to apologize. But there’s no taking back what you said to us. I’m not sure you’ll be welcoming.”
“Seth.” She gives me an aggrieved sigh. “I will be welcoming. Everyone will be welcoming.”
I pause. “Everyone? Who else is coming?”
“We invited the Dannigs.” She flags down a taxi. “I didn’t think you’d mind—you and Kyle always got along so well with Eliza.”
The Dannigs were family friends, in the sense that we saw them on the rare occasion where we had to perform as a family. Eliza was closer to Kyle’s age than mine, and seemed equally ignored by her parents. I felt especially bad for her, since she was an only child.
“Sure, of course. I’ll see you all on Thursday.”
It’s probably a good idea to have another family there—it’ll keep my parents on their best behavior, and having more people present will help stave off uncomfortable lapses in conversation.
I give my mother an awkward hug before she gets into her cab. After she drives off, I give Madison a call to let her know about the Dannigs. She probably won’t mind, or maybe she’ll be a little relieved, like I am.
MADISON
“The Dannigs are coming, too?” I say into the phone.
“Yes,” Seth says. “You don’t have to come—I don’t even think you met them, did you?”
“I know Eliza.” She and Kyle were friends, and she came over to hang out sometimes. Not often, but I always liked to see her.
Then Kyle died. I caught a glimpse of her at the funeral, but I didn’t speak to her then, and we never spoke again.
“It’ll probably be good to catch up with her,” I add. “And her parents are cool?”
He laughs. “I don’t know if ‘cool’ is the right word, but they’re okay. Plus, if they’re there, my parents won’t interrogate you. We’re now more at risk for dying of boredom than getting gut-punched with drama.”
“Well, it’s at least a cleaner death, right?” I pace around the kitchen. It’s daytime, so I’m spending a lot of time looking out the window. I remind myself that there’s nothing scary out there.
Plus, I have more cameras now, and this time I paid attention when the Ironwood technician walked me through how to access the feeds on the security app. Now I can review what happened here, past and present.
A text comes in from Ford. Can I check on the fruit trees? I won’t stay long.
Frowning, I say to Seth, “I need to text my cousin back. But yeah, I think the Dannigs at Thanksgiving could be a good thing.”
“Just remember, you don’t have to go,” he says. “I can make up an excuse at the last second if you change your mind. Fuck, if you want me to stay home with you, we could do our own thing with Damiano. We don’t need my parents.”
It’s so sweet of him. And while it’s true we don’t need his parents, I wouldn’t mind having a good relationship with them. If he can, I think he should. It’s something I’ll never have with my own parents. Their favoritism of my brother ruined all chances of that. I’m never going back.
After we say goodbye, I switch over to my texting app and tell Ford it’s fine if he wants to come see the trees. It’s weird as fuck, but everyone has their quirks, I guess.
A niggling thought worms its way into my head. Rather than text Ford, I call him. I want to hear his voice.
“Hey, Madison.” He clears his throat. “I know you don’t want me coming around as much, but—”
“It’s not that. You can see the trees. But Ford, I have to ask—were you here on Friday night?”
“Friday? No.”
He sounds sincere, but I can’t shake this weird feeling I have. “Are you sure?”
“Yes, I’m sure. What happened?”
“Nothing, I just had a scare. If it was you, I’d feel better knowing.”
“It wasn’t me. I was at a convention in Altera.”
Curiosity piqued, I say, “A convention?”
“Yeah.” He sounds embarrassed when he adds, “It was a horticulture convention.”
“That’s really cool, Ford.” I’m relieved he wasn’t peeping in my kitchen window, but at the same time, now I’m worried that I really did imagine everything.
“Was someone messing with the trees?” he asks. “Did you leave too much fruit on them?”
I guess it could’ve been a hungry person coming for free produce, but my trees are so far inside the property line, it seems like an odd thing to do. Then again, I’ve never been hungry enough to need to steal food, so it’s hard to say it’s odd.
“Nobody messed with the trees,” I say. “Anyway, thanks. I hope you had fun at your convention.”
“I did—I’ll send you a photo. And I’ll come around later today.”
“Before dark, if you don’t mind.”
“Sure thing.”
We get off the phone, and a second later, a photo shows up in my texts. It’s Ford next to a big, strange-looking plant. He’s wearing his usual plaid shirt and smiling like he’s just met his favorite celebrity.
My cousin is a plant nerd, and I kind of love that.
I settle onto the couch and pull up the latest episode of Flesh and Teeth. During the last episode, some new cowboys arrived at that monastery. Ostensibly they were good guys, but there’s no way their presence here won’t spell drama for the rest of the characters.
Before I press play, I open my security app to review the footage from last night. Thankfully, I find nothing out of the ordinary. All was quiet.
Of course, I wasn’t aware at the time because I stayed upstairs and refused to come down to the kitchen for anything until it was light outside. It’s still nice to know. These cameras are a game-changer.
Soon, the blissful sounds of zombies eating cowboys fills my ears. I soak in the vicarious drama of a wild western apocalypse, forgetting everything else.