Cross My Heart

Tea Party

BECKETT

"Aren't you being a bit much?"  Jack said with his mouth full.

"I'm just saying we're not a charity house. I don't understand why we have to feed the poor," Jill said, eyeing me with distaste. 

Jack shook his head. "She's not poor. She pays rent. And she fixed up the shack."

"So, we give her a place to live and food to eat and she's the one doing us the favor?"

"Do you see what I have to deal with?" Jack said, turning he head toward me. 

I just smiled at him sheepishly and bit the meatloaf off of my fork. 

"See? Ungrateful. Unappreciative. Like a pauper in a king's palace."

"What is this? Every time you speak it's like you're not an eight year old. It's like someone's unloaded the world's load of dictionaries into your brain. What eight year old says 'unappreciative'. I can't even spell the word."

"That's why you're the brawn of this house and I'm the brain." 

I bit my lip as a smile twitched at my lips. I had to give it to the girl. She had spunk. 

"That's it. I've lost my appetite."

"Don't you think it's about time you stop lying. You know you're going to sneak down here later tonight and pig out. You're not a child."

"You're doing the dishes tonight."

"I did them last night. And plus, I'm eight."

"Well, that doesn't stop you from being insufferable, does it?"

"Well, at least I'm not as insufferable as you," Jill said, flicking her hair to the side. 

I just watched, a silent spectator, this amusing back and forth between grandfather and granddaughter.

"Beckett, I request your intrusion. I think I'm getting a stroke." 

"So overdramatic," Jill muttered under her breath.

"This meatloaf though," I said. "It's gold." 

Jack shook his head at me. "I'm disappointed. And to think there was someone at home I could rely on."

"You can't blame me," I said, leaning towards him, "You're practically asking me to kick a sleeping lion."

Jill huffed. "Lionness."

"Pinch me," Jack said. "This is all just one never-ending nightmare."

"It's the same for me, as well," Jill deadpanned. 

"Well, if it's so unbearable for you then you should've just stayed with your mother."

"If she wanted me then she wouldn't have left me at your doorstep. If she hated the idea of a child so much she should've just kept her legs closed."

"Jillian!" Jack roared in disbelief. 

"What?" Jill said, batting her eyes innocently.

I just continued to eat in silence, not the least bit uncomfortable at the conversation at hand. This wasn't the first time I was in the crossfires of their saucy arguments. At least this time no utensils went flying across the room. Last time, I barely escaped a plate to the face. 

Their conversations always got deep and personal, but there was never any malice behind their words. I could hear the disappointment in Jack's voice towards his daughter and the hidden hurt at being abandoned in Jill's truer than a blade approach at life. In her, I saw myself. The sting of her words was an attempt at alleviating the hurt in her heart. They say that eyes are a window into your soul, but when you're hiding a bruising heart, the only thing you can do is steel your eyes, so the person looking into your eyes can only see a mere reflection of themselves and nothing else. And if there's a chance that someone has seen the cracks in your armor, push them away in any way possible. Hurt them. Wound them. So, they'll leave you alone in your eternal despair.