Like Gods

[23] tense dinners

" 'Home' is Norway?" She asked, and the awkward silence was back. William scratched his neck.

"Well, I've lived there for a few years, and I kind of want to stay for a long time. I mean, it's really nice to come here and visit, but Oslo is where I study and have my friends. Where I live." 

"I just thought that this was still your home," his mom muttered.

Dylan stayed quiet, picking at his food with the fork in his hand. His dad cleared his throat.

"So, William," he looked up with a smile and met his oldest son's eyes, "how are your friends back there, then?" 

A grin crept its way upon William's face and he chuckled. "They're amazing. I'm so grateful for everything they've done for me; they helped me feel like Oslo was home, and they really helped at the beginning with the transition from here." 

"That's really good to hear," his dad mirrored William's smile and Dylan couldn't help but feel happy for his brother. While the bad memories were still there, he'd always tried to believe in second chances and seeing his brother getting onto his feet was heartwarming, in a way.

"Okay," his mom said after a few minute's silence on her part, "Dylan, how's school going?" 

Dylan shrugged. "It's going fine. My tutee got a really good score on the latest project so that feels good, and I got an A on that project so..." 

A chorus of 'That's wonderful!'s and 'Amazing job.'s filled the room but Dylan only looked at his mom who didn't say anything, but nodded.

"But that's whatever," Dylan continued with a smile, "because Ry had a test recently and she did amazing!" 

"Is that true, honey?" His dad turned to the youngest sister, a wide grin decorating his face, "I'm so proud of you, kiddo!" 

Riley turned slightly red in the face at the praise. "Thanks, dad."  

"Great job, Riley," their mom said, taking a bite of her food. Dylan frowned. His mom seemed almost... bitter? Something was obviously wrong, but he couldn't figure out if they'd said something wrong.

A few minutes of chatter later, all of them had finished their food. Riley was the first to stand, grabbing her plate and glass.

"I'm going to do some homework," she explained and went toward the kitchen to put the dishes away. 

"I should do that, too," Dylan said, he, too, standing from the table.

"I want to talk to you later," his mom said and frowned but nodded. What was that going to be about? He put the dishes in the dishwasher and closed it. Then, he grabbed his back that lay discarded by the stairs and went to his room.

His mom would probably come upstairs to talk. That was how she always went about having the 'serious talks' that she felt the need to have. It was usually something utterly insignificant, but if Dylan told her that it didn't matter, he would only start an even more insignificant fight. 

He sighed, flopping onto his stomach on the bed and looked at the clock. It wasn't even six yet. The 'doing homework' part that he'd excused himself with was mostly a cover so that he wouldn't have to sit and chat for any longer than he absolutely needed to. 

Having decided what to do, he got off the bed and went to get his book. Reading had always been the best way to get away from the world in Dylan's mind. Sure, some- cough, Felicia, cough- occasionally called him a nerd for it, but that didn't bother him much. It wasn't as if he just sat home and played videogames all day, he was co-captain for the soccer team for God's sake. 

He just happened to have an academic side as well as his sporty one.

A soft knock on the door disturbed his peaceful reading session and he lay the book on the nightstand by his bed. Here we go, he thought and turned to face his mom who stood in the doorway.

"Dylan," she sighed and took a step inside, closing the door behind her, "we need to talk." 

"What about?" Dylan asked, raising his eyebrows. I always went like this.

"I really want you home directly after school," she said, frowning slightly. "I don't want you staying around school... doing whatever you do there." 

"What do you mean?" Dylan felt his face contort into some sort of confused grimace. "I told you that I drove Felicia?" 

"That shouldn't take more than a few extra minutes," his mom sat down on the bed, making Dylan scoot over. "I have to ask you... do you have friends that smoke. Other things than cigarettes?" 

Dylan's jaw dropped to the floor. "You think I stay at school to smoke weed? You think I'm high?" 

"Well, driving if you get out at three-thirty then you should be home at four." 

"Mom, can you not do math?" Dylan snapped, getting more and more aggravated. "If I get out of class at three-thirty then I'm not ready at my car before three-forty-five and I got stuck in traffic today, which took, like, fifteen minutes extra. I don't smoke!" 

His mom stood abruptly. 

"I just wanted to know," she said sternly, quickly moving out the door and closing it behind her. Wow, Dylan thought afterward. That was... something.

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