The Ghosts of Dearheart: Book I

Chapter 6

Hartley had been dreading Wednesday night for well over a week at this point, but now that it was here, he resolved to quit worrying and just get through it. He was an adult now. He could stand up for himself if he needed to. Nevertheless, he went at least a little out of his way to please them. Instead of his usual attire he chose a much more subdued blank t-shirt and dark jeans. He chose his thinnest black lip rings, which were the least noticeable. He meticulously shaved down the stubble from his face so that he looked clean and fresh. After that, he splashed some of his favorite aftershave on. Pinaud Clubman—not exactly high end, but he'd always liked it. It sure made him smell put-together, at least.

He pulled out his phone as he received a text.

Jasmine: Hurry and get here. They're somehow already on the topic of abortion and we haven't even gotten out of the car yet.

Hartley huffed and let her know that he was on his way. He snatched a clean hooded jacket and made his way out the door to where his bike was locked up downstairs, ready as he'd ever be to face the music. It took a little more time than he thought it would to get out there, and of course, they seemed to have chosen the furthest joint away that they could. Some ritzy Italian place that had a mile line wait and made it damn hard to get close enough to rack his bike. When he did, however, he could see them right away seated outside on the patio. Drawing a breath, he tucked his hands into his jacket pockets and headed over. 

As soon as they spotted him, he could feel the tension. Their faces fell. His mother looking stern, his sister with a scowl, and his father looking down straight away with a frustrated shake of his head. Jesus. If they were going to insist that he join them, couldn't they at least pretend to be happy to see him? Or maybe just less disappointed? He caught Jasmine's eye and gave her a weak smile before he reached the only empty seat at the rounded table. Right between his mother and his sister, and right across from his father. "Hey guys," he said.

"You're later than you said you'd be," his mother admonished straight away.

"I did my best." His eyes went to his father, looking him up and down but getting no acknowledgement there, as per usual. "Happy birthday, Dad."

"Just sit down," his mother sighed.

He did as he was told silently, seating himself and scooting his chair in. Hannah was pointedly looking away from him now.

"You look absolutely ridiculous," his mother said in a hushed tone, busying herself with unfolding her napkin. "I wish I could be surprised."

"Good to see you, too," he responded.

She clasped her hands together, looking up. "So, what's everyone thinking of ordering?"

"I hear they have good seafood," Hannah said.

"Yeah, shrimp scampi sounds awesome right now," Jasmine agreed.

His mother turned to her husband. "Fred? What do you think? Lasagna?"

Good old Fred simply nodded.

"Hartley, why don't you order a steak? You're looking paler these days. Some red meat might help."

Hartley spared his mother a glance from the menu. "Uh, I'm not all that hungry, but thanks. I think I'll just get something light."

"How can you not be hungry? You knew you were coming to dinner."

Hartley nodded. "Yeah, but I'm..."—too nervous to even eat in front of you people anymore. You'd just tear apart the way I cut my food or tell me I chew too loud and how it makes me a failure of a human—"...being in college sort of curbs your appetite. You know how it is. You get wrapped up in trying to finish a project and you lose track of time. Before you know it, it's midnight and you just go to bed without dinner. My appetite's shrunk."