Before, After & In-between

Chapter 33-Now

We eat in a room separate from the kitchen. The table is meticulously set to perfection and I suddenly feel very aware that I don't know proper dinner etiquette. Which fork do I use, why are there two forks? Two spoons, and what is that tiny plate to my left for?

Darrin catches me mid panic and reaches for his own place setting, he grabs the fork closest to his plate– the bigger one, "Dinner fork," he says amused, raising an eyebrow at me, then his fingers slide to the smaller one, "salad," a grin so delicious spreads across his face I could have it for dessert.

"Geeze," I whisper, "why so fancy?"

"Lena," he smiles, "everything she does is fancy."

She enters the room carrying a platter of meat, well it's a bird of some sort–turkey maybe and somehow manages to fit it amongst all the other dishes she's made. The table is full of food as if she is entertaining ten to fifteen people. All the while his dad sits at the head of the table refilling what looks to be a glass of scotch.

"Can I help you with anything Mrs.– I mean Lena?" I ask.

"No, no dear everything is settled," she says taking her seat across from Darrin's dad, "I've got the oven preheating for the dessert you brough Darrin, it looks delicious by the way."

Connor throws his head back swallowing the last slosh of brown liquid, "Shall we get started?"

They talk amongst themselves, catching up on unimportant things. Thanksgiving is coming...how's Isobel...did you hear about the fire over on Sparrow Ave? I, on the other hand, watch them carefully. Darrin's mom does everything for his him; she fills his plate, tops up his drink, butters his bread. I half expect her to cut up his meat next and attempt to spoon feed him. I can tell he finds it annoying but allows it anyway. I immediately recognize her doting nature, my mom was much the same. My dad always use to say, 'Let them do it themselves Evie, they're not babies anymore.' But she'd shush him and say 'I want to, I like to, and I will for as long as they let me.'

I let her always.

It was as though she wanted to be needed even though we were fully capable of doing it on our own. And so when Darrin rolls his eyes as she scoops another lump of mashed potatoes onto his plate I nudge him with my elbow.

He smiles but its ridged, he's different around his parents. There is a stiffness to him like he's uncomfortable in his own skin. He seems low key stressed and I can't understand why. I mean sure Connor is maybe the most intimidatingly handsome older man I've ever met, but so far I think things are going well and his mom is just a sweet little bundle of energy.

He's quiet which is odd, usually Darrin is the chatterbox and I am the one trying to catch up to him. I find his foot beneath the table and brush mine against it, noticing a small breath tightly wound slowly release through his lips. Why is he so tense?

"Did you get that paperwork submitted on time Darrin?" His dad says looking up from his food.

His fingers tightly grip the fork and knife turning the tips of his knuckles white. He stops cutting his food and pauses for a moment I think I see him nod, but he says nothing.

"Is that a yes?" his dad says.

"Yes." Darrin says bluntly.

"Good, then there shouldn't be any delays with the scholarship." Darrin's body returns to its rigid formation.

I look at him but he doesn't look at me, I look at his dad who is watching the two of us and turn my head back to Darrin, "Scholarship?"

His mom sets down her fork and knife and smiles, "Yes, Darrin's scholarship to Culinary School, we're so proud of him, aren't we Connor?"