Me Again

The table was set neatly and corresponded exactly with the color scheme of the table cloth. At least my dad went for a woman that was organized. Maybe it would rub off on him. 

I picked up the fork, suddenly not feeling hungry. Though I had eaten leftovers this morning (chicken rolls for lunch dinner and breakfast, yummy) I had completely lost my appetite. 

Sitting at the same table as my overbearing, abusive and brutally bastardous father, wasn't exactly the ideal family dinner. 

So, I decided to not sit next to Dad.

I sat next to the little boy.

"Your old enough to drink right?" He said while walking towards the kitchen. Probably to get some wine or some sort of alcohol. 

"Why? Have you forgotten my age already?" I hissed at him.

Rochelle (the wife) cocked her head to him, almost as if this question defied his relationship. I kind of felt sorry when looked at him. His face was desperate and wishful, and it kind of sunk deep within me. But it washed away when he said:

"Yeah, 19! Right?" He said like he actually knew. I swear, I could stab him with my fork right then.

"Yeah." I nodded.

"Good, good." He said and stalked towards the kitchen. I saw him pour the wine and his eyes met with mine.

He closed the French doors dividing us from the kitchen with a grim face.

Okay, that's a little odd.

"So, Olivia." Rochelle said, which broke my trance instantly. "How have you been?" 

"Well..." I started, but backed away thinking about dad. This is his new life. Maybe he's trying to clean up now. "Just living it up." 

"So what were you doing in our bushes?" The girl who was name Maria, asked me in a catty tone. 

"I was trying to find him." I could only think his name. Saying it seemed wrong. "We had unfinished business."

I chuckled a little. But they stayed solid.

Dad returned from the kitchen, with two wine glasses on one tray and the other on another. 

"Here you go," He sing songed and placed the cup carefully on the table. I eyed him.

"Let's eat!" The boy (Narciss) shouted.

"Okay!" Dad said in a family voice.  Similar to an easy tone he used to use when me and him had fights. Kind of the voice that signalled I was crossing the line, but he thought it was humorous. This usually pissed me off. 

"Who's the extra set for?" I asked and noticed there was an empty chair and a set of plates. 

"That's for Ethan, he should be home anytime now." Rochelle said eagerly.

"See, Rochelle and I adopted him from a children's shelter." Dad said informatively, to impress me.

"Oh yeah? That's good. How old is the little guy?" I asked playfully,

"Not so much a little guy... He'll be going to College in a year or two." Rochelle said sadly. 

Coincidentally, the door swung open and in came...

Ethan. 

Ethan. 

Ethan. 

The name rang a bell.

"Oh hey everyone!" He said dropping his backpack. "Not late for dinner, am I?" 

He stared for a second.