When We Met

CH 7 Logan

Gathered together at the family dining table felt like an estranged affair these days. Normally, Father was too preoccupied with handling crisis after crisis with Uncle Harry in the criminal underworld to make time for domestic niceties. But tonight, for whatever reason, we had all been summoned to this uncomfortably formal dinner.

Mother was flitting about the kitchen, overseeing the staff as they laid out an elaborate multi-course meal even though we all knew damn well we could afford teams of personal chefs if she'd allow it. Ever committed to maintaining even the faintest visages of semi-normal family life, I suppose.

Father sat stoically at the head of the oversized table, his face illuminated by the harsh glow of his phone as he no doubt exchanged coded messages with Uncle about whatever new wildfires were raging on their illicit front. He didn't bother looking up at the rest of us, his expression one of intense focus behind those penetrating blue eyes.

Across from me, Maria had her face buried in her own phone, furiously typing away to whatever teenage drama had captured her attention this week. Although she did pause briefly to flash me a sly smile, her eyes twinkling as if to remind me that tonight would finally be the night she tried to beg Father for that car she'd been jonesing over.

"Hello, my family!" Noah's booming voice preceded him as he strode into the dining room, already dressed down in casual clothes despite the obvious formality of the situation. "What are we eating today? God knows I've been hungry for three days straight!"

He laughed at his own morbid joke, seemingly unaware of (or more likely, simply not caring about) the thinly veiled looks of disgust from Mother and I at his cavalier reference to his no-doubt literal deprivation during some underworld errand. Leave it to my brother to always be the bull cluelessly trampling through the china shop.

"Oh Noah, would you please just sit down?" Mother chided, more exhausted than actually angry as she took her seat at the table. "We're finally having a real family dinner together - not with one of you dripping blood or the other holding a severed head ready to eat!" 

She shot a pointed look at Father, who surprisingly let out a barking chuckle at the morbid remark.

"Now Lilliana, when have I ever walked in carrying a head in my hands, ready for dinner with bloody mitts?" he grinned. "You know you love me despite it all, my beautiful wife."

The two shared a tender look filled with unspoken intimacies and inside jokes between longstanding partners. I felt a passing prickle of envy at their closeness and seemingly unbreakable bond - the kind of passionate yet grounded relationship I'd always craved but never quite achieved in my own sporadic dating experience. 

Perhaps sensing my melancholy, Maria kicked me under the table to get my attention and loudly complained about being starved before our father could silence her with one of his signature stern looks. Any semblance of playfulness immediately faded from her features, the familiar timidity around him reasserting itself. 

We all knew better than to push Father's buttons or demand his fickle attention. Not when he ruled this household, and our very existence, with the same firm, uncompromising grasp he wielded over his underworld empire. Even Mother knew to tread carefully lest she risk incurring his palpable displeasure.

An uneasy hush fell over the table as the food was finally served. I found myself unable to shake the nagging sense of tension, that feeling that the other shoe was about to drop at any moment. After so many years being raised in this pressure cooker environment, I could simply sense when something was brewing with Father.

Sure enough, about halfway through the main course, he cleared his throat in that unmistakable way that sheared through all other noise and idle chatter like a white-hot blade. Every eye instantly snapped to him, our forks and utensils frozen in place as we waited for the pronouncement we could all feel coming.

"I have an...opportunity I've been presented with," he began in that low, dangerous rumble. "A proposition that could change the entire trajectory and scope of this family's operations in ways you cannot even begin to fathom or comprehend." This is defiantly not leading to a good path