5. Jules
FIVE
JULES
Family dinners at the Callahans have always been my favorite. I’ve had a standing invite since Lavinia and I were in high school. The few times I missed dinner, I got a call from Dr. Callahan, Lavinia’s mom, to confirm if I was okay.
There were times when I felt almost jealous of Lavinia for having such a wonderful mother.
A mother who cared for when she fell sick, who celebrated her joys and achievements.
Her father has always been supportive, she has two loving grandmothers, and one lovable great-aunt.
And no matter what I think about Drew, there’s no denying how much he loves his sister.
So, yeah, I felt jealous of Lavinia sometimes. But that jealousy is nothing compared to the gratitude I feel for sharing her family with me.
“Jules, honey, what do you think of this?” A tablet is put in my lap and I look down at it before looking up at Aunt Constance, Lavinia and Drew’s great-aunt.
“We’re planning a girl’s trip and I want to look eligible,” she explains, fluffing up her hair.
I look back down at the tablet. It’s open to a store’s page, showing a model wearing a one piece bathing suit with cutouts on the side. It’s cute, blue printed with big flowers. But the model is probably in her twenties and Aunt Constance is pushing eighty, and a day.
“I love it, but I worry about the eligible eighty year old men you’re going to give heart attacks to by wearing this on vacation.”
Aunt Constance laughs lightly, her eyes as lively as they would have been when she was my age. She’s my role model and a prime example that a woman’s life doesn’t end after she reaches a “certain age”.
“Who says I’m wearing it for eighty year olds?”
“Aunt Constance!” I pretend to be scandalized by her words, which delights her more. “Is this why you were asking for shirtless pics from the Titans?”
“No, that was for Linda in my knitting group.”
She doesn’t explain why Linda in the knitting group wanted a shirtless pic of a twenty-something man.
“Well, I think you should buy this and if the eighty year-old men have a problem with it then they can take it up with their doctors,” I say.
I hand the tablet back to her just as Lavinia enters the living room. She’s carrying two glasses of wine, one of which she hands to me.
“I’ve been asked to leave the kitchen,” she says.
I take a sip of the white wine, enjoying the fruity crispiness.
“What were you doing in the kitchen?” Lavinia and I are basic cooks. As in we can cook the basics and nothing else because cooking is too complicated and we’ve been known to burn things.
When we lived together, our fridge was stocked with leftovers from family dinner. Roman is an excellent cook so Vin doesn’t have to worry about that anymore. Me, on the other hand? I’ll definitely be stocking up on those leftovers.
“I was just checking if Roman needed my help,” Lavinia says. “What’s going on here?”
“Aunt Constance is planning on killing a bunch of men on her vacation,” I say.
“When you get to my age, you have to do whatever you can to feel young,” Aunt Constance says. Ain’t that the truth.
“It’s just going to be you, Grandma, and Grams?” Lavinia asks.
“And most of the knitting group,” Aunt Constance adds.
Lavinia and I exchange a look. As long as Aunt Constance has been part of the knitting group, she hasn’t knitted a single thing. In fact, I’m quite sure she doesn’t even know how to knit or crochet. No one knows exactly what happens in the knitting group except for Reese Miller.
Reese plays for the Boston Titans. I find it very strange that a professional hockey player is in a knitting group with a bunch of senior, retired women.
“Where are Grandma and Grams?” Lavinia asks.
Lavinia’s grandmothers and Aunt Constance live in the pool house, which was converted into an in-law suite/apartment when the three of them moved in years ago.
“They’re on the way. They’re just picking up supplies for the trip,” Aunt Constance says.
Lavinia and I exchange another look, this one slightly more horrified. I don’t even need to look at her to know we’re both thinking of that one episode of Golden Girls where the three of them are going on a trip and buying condoms.
We both shudder at the thought.
Aunt Constance tells us everything they’re planning on doing on their vacation and I settle into the rhythms of the Callahan household; the smell of delicious food, Roman and Dr. Callahan’s low voices in the kitchen, Lavinia’s knee bumping against mine as she bounces it up and down because she’s jittery sitting still for so long.
As soon as I let myself relax, a shadow falls over us. I look up and see Drew, shoulder leaning against the arched entrance of the living room, arms crossed. He’s been in the den with Mr. Callahan discussing the team’s last game.
If I pay closer attention, I can see the tightness around his eyes, but I don’t pay attention so I pretend that I don’t see it.
His eyes meet mine, and for a brief moment, we’re locked in a staring contest. His expression remains neutral, but he doesn’t look away.
I can’t be the first one to look away because then I’ll lose this arbitrary game we’re playing.
In quiet moments like this, it’s really hard to ignore that, whether we like it or not, we’ve shared a life together.
Most of my memories are shared with Drew, or have Drew in the background.
Watching Lavinia’s hockey practice? Drew was there because our school had a co-ed team.
Going to the mall with Lavinia? Drew was there.
School projects? Drew was there. Prom? Drew, Drew, Drew. Everywhere, and all at once.
“Dinner’s ready!” Dr. Callahan’s melodious voice has Drew and I looking away.
I don’t know who blinked first. Not that it matters. I have to ignore Drew, not have staring contests with him! Ignoring him is taking on a Sisyphean task. Like I said, he’s around all the time, not that he wants to be if his constant frown is any indication.
“Are you and Dad done discussing the game?” Lavinia asks Drew, as we stand up.
“Yep.”
So verbose. Not that I want to listen to discussions on hockey. One thing I appreciate about family dinners is that they’re strictly no business. Dr. Callahan can’t discuss her students or her research since she’s a Physics professor at Mercer, and Mr. Callahan can’t bring up hockey.
Grandma and Grams arrive just as we’re heading into the dining room.
Lavinia always tells me it’s weird that I call her grandmothers Grandma and Grams like she does, but call her parents Dr. and Mr. Callahan, even though they’ve both told me I can call them by their names.
It feels odd to do it now when I’ve spent my whole life calling them that.
Roman is setting the table as we walk in and he looks up, smiling at Lavinia.
We sit down, which lands me right next to Drew.
We used to be an even group of people for family dinners, unless a Titan joined us. It was always me, Lavinia, and Drew on one side. The grandmothers and Aunt Constance on the other. Dr. and Mr. Callahan at the head of the table.
With Roman’s inclusion, Lavinia is no longer a buffer between Drew and me.
Sure, I could sit with the grandmothers and Aunt Constance.
But you know that feeling of dissatisfaction you get when everything is right but you’re forced to deviate one step from your routine and it basically ruins everything?
Yeah, that pretty much sums up why Drew and I are stuck next to each at family dinner.
Because sitting on the other side of the table is all wrong. Clearly, Drew feels the same way because he hasn’t moved, either. No one else has even suggested it. As it is, Lavinia and I sit in the middle, book-ended by two giant hockey players.
“What are everyone’s summer plans?” Dr. Callahan asks, as we dig in.
I try to make myself as small as possible so no part of me touches Drew.
“Roman and I are planning a trip to Italy,” Lavinia says, excitement ringing in her voice.
“That’s wonderful, sweetheart! I know you’ve been wanting to go for such a long time.”
“Oh, Italy,” Aunt Constance coos. “I always said you should have gone earlier and taken your chance with Italian men.”
“Constance!” Grandma chides her younger sister.
“Oh, Lizzie, don’t pretend like you didn’t enjoy our Italian summer,” Constance teases. Grandma looks away with a huff, but there’s no denying the soft blush on her cheeks.
“That’s not something I need to know about my mother,” Mr. Callahan says gruffly.
Grams, Dr. Callahan’s mother looks at her daughter, and if I didn’t know any better, I’d say she’s wondering how she let her quiet, studious daughter marry into this boisterous family. Probably wondering how she came to live with them as well.
“Roman wants to invite you and Dad to come with us,” Lavinia says suddenly. Everyone looks at Roman in question and the tips of his ears turn red due to the attention.
He sets his wine glass down and glances at Lavinia, who gives him an encouraging nod.
“Vin’s right,” he says. “I mean, it’d be nice if you two came along. We can make it a family trip. Drew and Jules are invited as well. I know the grandmothers and Aunt Constance have their own plans.”
“Well, that’s…lovely,” Dr. Callahan says, looking across the table at her husband. “Aiden and I would love to join you.”
“Jules, now’s the time to find a hot, Italian man,” Aunt Constance teases.
I laugh so hard I almost choke on my wine. “I can’t. I’m on deadline with my publisher.”
“And I have no interest in being the fifth wheel,” Drew adds. “I also have the camp.”
“How odd, Drew and Jules are going to be alone for the summer,” Grams says. She says it like it’s a conundrum to be pondered.
Beside me, Drew shifts in his seat. Under the table, our thighs almost brush against each other, the fabric of his jeans rubbing against my leggings. I pull my leg to the side.
“Sage and Elena will be here,” I point out quickly.
“Sage has vacation booked, remember?” Lavinia glances at me. “She’ll be with her family in New York.”