Page 72

Crew

E ven from across the restaurant, I could tell they were still fighting. If I had to guess, the argument had skewed from the original root cause, now probably trying to cast the blame on each other for running me out of the place.

As Kota and I approached, they both shut up, spinning around in their chairs, spines straightening like they were pretending they hadn’t been quarreling the whole time we were gone.

Sitting, I gave the dirtiest look to both of them, and they sank back.

“You alright, Nick?” my dad cringed as my mother nervously tucked her hair behind her ears, her shameful eyes dipping.

Voice eerily calm, I said, “Am I alright? No, not really.” With a massive inhale, I froze for a second, unsure if I should continue speaking. But when Kota’s hand found mine again, I found the courage. “Honestly? You’re my parents, and I love you, but I hate spending time with you. Both of you.” Eyes ricocheting back and forth between them, I threw everything off my chest that I’d been holding in for the last decade of my life. “All you guys do is fight over me and talk shit about the other one. I never get quality time with either of you. It’s annoying and emotionally draining, and you’ve ruined a lot of things for me because neither of you are emotionally mature enough to put decade-old shit aside for your own kid.” I wheezed, realizing I hadn’t taken a single breath through that entire thing.

“Not to mention,” I added, “Kota is obviously my first girlfriend, and I wanted this evening to go smoothly but you managed to ruin it after less than twenty minutes of us being here.”

Silence gripped the four of us, and I looked everywhere other than at my parents, too afraid to see their reactions. Pushing my lips into a hard line, I waited for someone to speak. It would’ve been great if our waitress came by right now.

My mother’s fragile hand shielded her face, and my stomach knotted . Please don’t be crying. I’ll feel like the biggest dick if I just made my own mother cry.

“No, you’re right,” Mom shook. “Our behavior isn’t okay.”

“It’s not,” my dad agreed, head hung low. “This was an important night for you, and we wrecked it.”

I didn’t even sugar coat my answer. “Yeah. You guys did.”

“I’m so sorry, honey,” Mom said, reaching across the table for my hand.

“We’ve let our own issues get in the way of our relationship with you, and that was wrong. I’m sorry,” Dad said.

Crossing my arms, I pushed my chair back until it was balancing on two legs. “Good. Now apologize to each other.”

Dad’s face twisted like he’d just smelled something rotten, but when he caught my stern and dangerous expression, he retorted. They let out matching sighs, swallowing their own pride as they turned towards each other.

Mom choked through her words, fidgeting uncomfortably. “Neil, I’m sorry for being rude earlier, and... for being uncivil for,” she cleared her throat, “the last however many years.”

Dad winced like the words were getting reluctantly ripped out of his throat. “Jane, I’m sorry for everything I have done or said in the past that has been hurtful and unjust.”

God, I could tell this was fucking killing them. Was I a psychopath if I admitted that I was enjoying it?

Looking at me at the same time for approval, I nodded. “Don’t you guys feel better now?”

“Well...”

“Eh, I—”

“Don’t answer that,” I held up a hand. “Baby steps, I guess. Now can we please get through the rest of dinner without any arguments?”

“Yes,” they nodded.

“Does it count if we argue?” Kota joked. The playful smile she gave was breathtaking.

“No,” I teased. “That wouldn’t count.”