Ever After

Dinner For Many

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This chapter is in Jack's perspective.

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I was thankful that I'd remembered it earlier, for, despite it being five o'clock in the morning, there was only just enough time left to get everything cleaned up (if we were lucky, meaning if the dog decided to stop getting in the way of things). There were plenty of blankets, candy wrappers, and hideously realistic drawings of Mrs. Jefferson to keep us busy tidying up, meaning that we'd spent an entire two hours cleaning, astonished that it was only seven once we'd finished.

Finding that we had plenty of time on our hands, Mark and I decided to take Chica for a walk, seeing as he wouldn't be home until much, much later – fortunately, his father was away on another one of his business trips, meaning the facts that he was coming over for dinner and was harbouring a fugitive in his very own living room were to be left a secret for the next day. We'd already put ourselves to work printing off pictures of Chica (courtesy of my phone's camera and the printer at the convenience store down the street), sticking them on "FOUND DOG" posters, ones highlighted with red text asking that anyone who knows her or her owner call in.

And, before I knew it, we were right back where we started at five o'clock in the morning, stressed out and ready for the strangeness about to come. Not only were we nervous of Chica leaving brown surprises all around the apartment, but we were also nervous that the family dinner would be awkward and unnerving, especially for Mark, seeing as he was the guest. I was already pitying him, picturing my father and mother asking their usual nosy questions, ones that they said were "just helping us learn more about your friends" (although, I'm sure it translates into "figuring out whether they're real or not"). My parents had gotten used to my holiday set-ups, ones in which I would invite over a fake friend to Christmas parties, asking them to play it cool for both of my parents. It didn't always work, but it was better than making real friends.

Felix was the only one (before Mark) who I actually cared about – I know, shocking. He and I were actually kind of flirtatious, to be honest – fortunately for me, my parents never discovered this, for most of the action took place in my bedroom or in the basement. My parents never understood why we stuck around in the basement so much (for there wasn't much to do there), but they didn't know what went on when the lights were off, meaning they were left up to their imagination as to find out what we got into. I highly doubted, however, that they had the slightest wonder on whether or not their son was gay.

My parents never liked Felix, though, and I'm happy they didn't. Astonishingly, they loved Mark – ever since the first sleepover, my mother had begun asking me nonstop on when he would return and whether or not he really enjoyed her cooking since he left so quickly at breakfast. To this, I would reassure her, reminding her that he would someday come back, being sure to tell her that I'd always be there to eat her waffles and pancakes whenever others weren't (which, of course, I wasn't lying about). As soon as I'd mentioned Mark was coming back, she was delighted, saying, "You always seem happier when he's here," when everyone was gone.

And, as I swayed his hand along the sidewalk, I realized I couldn't have said it any better myself.

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After what always felt like a lifetime's worth of wandering, we arrived at the log cabin, allowing me to open the unlocked door and let Mark in behind me. Only a millisecond after I'd shut the door did I notice that everyone was already there, seated around the table in their hideous sweaters and Christmas colours, each and every one of them staring expectantly our way. I took off Mark's jacket for him before presenting ourselves, seeing as everyone else had already gotten acquainted.