HER | ✓

⍣Five⍣

Dinner. Clayton had to go downstairs for dinner. Why couldn't he just stay upstairs and go hungry for the night? Why couldn't he just vanish into thin air? But most of all, why was he wanting to go downstairs? He understood this holiday vacation was going to cause him heartbreak, but why was he looking forward to it?

He approached the kitchen and heard the sounds of plates and silverware clattering and the soft murmur of voices. The aroma of his mothers shepherds pie greeted his nose with a welcoming surprise. The smell made his stomach grumble, reminding him how much he missed his moms cooking.

"Are you just going to stand there?" Martha inquired.

"No ma, just enjoying the scent of your cooking that's all." He half lied and wandered further in. He wasn't only savoring the succulent scent of homemade cooking, but he was struck with wonder as he gazed at Charlotte. She sat at the island, lost in her own world as she colored in her book. She looked as innocent as innocent could be. But how would he ever know for sure if she was really his without asking?

"Harry!" Martha hollered, disregarding Clayton's compliment. "I told you dinner was finished!"

She turned back to Clayton, huffed, and threw the cloth over her shoulder. "Your father, may the lord be with him tonight." She turned on her heel and grabbed the casserole dish off the island.

"Do you need help with anything ma?" Out of the corner of his eye he saw Farah look at him then placed the last silverware down.

"Yes, could you fetch the bottle of wine from the fridge and open it for me? Thank you Clay."

He spared another glance at Farah and watched as she ran from the room. Moments later he heard a door being slammed shut.

"George picked a good one, that girl. She's as sweet as peach tea," Martha mused.

"Hmmmm...."

"You haven't even been introduced to her yet!" She exclaimed in realization. "When she gets back in here we'll get that over with, yeah?"

He almost opened his mouth to protest but pressed his lips together and continued helping his mother. Protesting might seem suspicious. He'll suffer this one out. After he opened the wine he set it on the table to breathe and soon everyone filed into the kitchen and took their seats.

Martha and Harry sat at the head of table while George and Farah sat next to each other opposite of Clayton and Charlotte. What a wonderful seating arrangement!, Clayton thought. His mouth instantly tasted bitter. The heavens sure were trying to torture him. Now she sat in his plain view and he had nowhere to escape. Her being in the same room was torture enough.

"Shall we say our prayers before we eat?" Martha asked. Her eyes slid over everyone as she waited for an answer. Clayton was the first to respond. "Yes ma, I don't see why not. It's what we always do."

Martha smiled at him and placed her aged hands above the table. "A prayer we shall do then."

Everyone grabbed each others hands and hung their heads. The prayer was over before they knew it and they began dishing out food and digging in. The clatter of forks against plates filled the otherwise room.

Clayton felt a burning sensation on the top of his head. Glancing up, he let his eyes roam the room. He took in everyone as they were blissfully bent over their plates. All except for Farah. Who was staring right at him with an expression he couldn't read; a mix between curious, apologetic and sedate.

He rose his eyebrows in silent question. Would she say anything after all these years? She couldn't go the entire holiday break without saying anything to him, right? He broke eye contact to look at George and set his fork down. He'd been wondering about something.

"So George." He wiped his mouth with a cloth napkin. "How did you meet this young lady?" He picked up his fork.

George choked. "I don't think I'm inclined to tell you," he said taking a sip of wine.

"You can drop the posh attitude now. You're home," Clayton smirked, taking another bite. He looked at Farah. She was pretending to not pay attention while she ate. 

"Yes! Please, do tell!" Martha chimed in. In Clayton's mind he was smothering his mother with kisses. He needed to know how they met.

"It really isn't that thrilling." George shrugged.

"But your momma wants to know," Martha pouted.

"Well if you must," George took a moment to compose himself. Farah looked at him with large eyes, silently pleading him to stay quiet. He ignored it. Clayton found this amusing. "We met in the men's restroom at work."

Martha gasped.

"Now that must have been one helluva way to meet." He picked up his glass and toasted to thin air.

He could sense the change in the room and how Martha viewed her. He pitied her. He wanted to ask why she was in the men's restroom but didn't. He kept his lips sealed and listened to George's boring love life with her. He took her to art galleries, and to see symphonies, and out on boat cruises, and whatever else it was they did. By the sounds of it George didn't have a thrilling bone in him. Not even an ounce in his morrow.

As he continued to listen to these stories he watched Farah as she watched George. He could tell by the look on her face she wasn't too enthralled by the remembrance of her past with George. It made him wonder why she was still with him now. Why be with someone who didn't make you happy? Harry asking him a question drew him out of his thoughts.

"What have you done with your life lately, Clayton?" Harry was looking at him with half squinted eyes. He stabbed a green bean, throwing it into his mouth.

"The usual. Running my tree service." Clayton didn't appreciate how his father turned the conversation on him.

"You haven't found yourself another wife yet?" A bubble of annoyance formed in Clayton's chest. Or was it anger?

"It's none of your business."

"Come on now, Harry." 

Martha and Clayton spoke at the same time. Her tone meant 'tread lightly or else'.

"Don't Harry, me," Harry directed at Martha. "I'm being a curios father. After Morgan it'd be nice to know he can still do something good."

"Harry!" Martha scolded.

Clayton slammed his fist on the table, and pointed at Harry. "F*ck you!" Martha gasped and covered Charlottes ears.

"I hope you rot in hell you bastard! You're a worthless father and I doubt you could ever be anything but. All you do is sit around with your fat gut and judge others like you're god. Well guess what father? You're not! So why don't you leave judgement to the man himself?" Clayton finished and stood. With his chest heaving in anger he stared at everyone in the room, but the only person whose reaction he cared most about was Farah's and her wide eyes said it all. She was scared and apologetic. 

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AN: Soooo that was an intense chapter. But what's to happen in the next chapter? Share your thoughts and don't forget to vote!

•Thanks for reading!•