Meet You There

Chapter Eight: No Debates At The Dinner Table!

It's Christmas. I sleep in until about 11am and then go to the Kennerley house. Frank, thankfully, is in a good mood. I go in to the kitchen where Brody helps Vicky with the dinner and Megan sets the table.

“Ruben, I was beginning to worry you'd never show up!” Vicky hugs me tighter than usual in true seasonal fashion. “What time are your parents gonna be here?”

Just as she asks, there's a knock at the door. Frank gets it, and I hear manly greetings and the slapping of backs taking place in the hallway. A few seconds later I hear him greet my mom, but it's forced and awkward.

My mom has never liked Frank. Maybe she saw through his 'family man' façade and saw him for what I now he is.

They come in to the living room and before I have the chance to say anything, my mothers arms are around me and she's saying how much she's missed me even though I only saw her a few weeks ago. My dad, who isn't really the affectionate type, hugs me, too.

Next, presents. I can barely sit down before a congregation of arms are holding out things wrapped in gaudy colorful paper to me.

From my parents, I get a watch, some cologne (because 'I must get smelly a lot working on a farm'), shirts, books, and a couple of DVD's. From Vicky and Frank, another shirt and two books (an agricultural guide and a crime fiction novel). Megan gets me another bottle of cologne and a pair of ugly Christmas socks (my favorite present, obviously). Brody gets me a bottle of Jack Daniels whiskey and an Amazon gift card.

“Buy yourself something nice with that,” he says puts an arm on my shoulder, "Like, clothes. You always look like you're an extra in The Walking Dead.”

I give everyone my presents, then. I give Vicky a $15 Forever 21 gift voucher. For Frank, some farming book he's been coveting for a while. My parents both get a bottle of wine each and chocolates, but then my mom gets a stationery set, and my dad gets a DVD of The Wicker Man because he only had it on VCR. Megan gets a necklace and a jewellery box, and for Brody, a copy of Stephen King's Under The Dome and a mix CD I made for him.

I don't really know why I decided to burn a mix CD for Brody. I just knew he'd appreciate it. All the gifts seem well received, but Brody seems especially pleased with his CD.

We sit down for Christmas dinner, which in the Kennerley house, is actually Christmas lunch. The table looks beautiful, and the food looks even better. We say thank the Lord Jesus Christ for our meal, which I am now used to doing since I've had plenty of meals with the Kennerley's, but my parents, one being an atheist and one being an agnostic former Jew, aren't.

After we've cleared our plates, Vicky gives us all a piece of homemade chocolate cake, which is even more delicious than the meal itself. It's nice to be able to sit around a table and eat with people I love. For the most part, anyway. I'm indifferent about Frank.

After Christmas Lunch/Dinner, we sit around and don't do much. Everything is nice and amiable until the topic of religion comes up. My mother gets all up in arms.

“Children shouldn't have religion forced upon them,” she says with folded arms and a stern expression, “It's as simple as that.”

“Caitlin- Brody and Megan believe in God and always have since they were little. No one forced anything!” Vicky replies with a smile that looks like it was rehearsed.

“Have you ever asked them what they believe?” My mother turns to Brody and Megan.

Bad move, mom. If Brody and Megan don't give their parents what they want to hear, it could cause a lot of conflict, and no one wants that on Christmas, least of all Megan who told me holidays were special to her because no one ever argues or fights.

“Kids, are you Christians? Or rather, do you believe in God?” Frank asks, his voice a lot more formal than usual, his southern accent barely noticeable.

As I expected, they nod their heads. “Yeah,” they say in unison.

My mother raises an eyebrow as if she knows they're not being honest with their parents, but doesn't say anything.

“It's not like you gave them much choice. You've forced religion on these kids since they were old enough to talk. I just don't agree with it,” my mother says, her words getting calmer as she progresses through the sentence, as if she's suddenly realized she does not want to be the cause of an argument on Christmas.

“If you don't believe in God, why are you celebrating Christmas, giving and receiving gifts?” asks Frank.

My dad, who has stayed quiet throughout most of this, finally speaks up. “Christmas has became a secular tradition in Western society, celebrated widely across the Western world by people of all faiths and ideologies.”

“You're Jewish, what the Hell'd you know about Christmas?” Frank asks in rebuttal, the Texan gruffness in his voice back.

I can't help it, I finally say something. “Could we stop arguing, please?”

If they do not, it may be time to retreat to the bunker (my barn) with Brody and Megan, but my parents stay calm. My dad actually smiles. “I was born Jewish, but I'm agnostic, now. And we're not arguing, we're debating.”

“How about we change the subject?” Vicky asks. They do, and that's the last we hear about religion. Thankfully.

Later on, when my parents have left, Brody comes over to the barn. We sit on my bed playing cards and talking, when today's 'debate' between our parents comes up in the conversation.

“So, what do you believe in?” I ask.

Brody shrugs. “Who knows? I mean, Megan and I do believe in God, but I wouldn't call myself a Christian. Too much bullshit associated with Christianity. My parents, for example."

“So you're agnostic? Like my dad?”

He shakes his head. “Nah, because I do think there's a God, and I pray and stuff. I guess 'spiritual' would be the word to describe it.”

I nod my head in understanding. “I'm an apathetic atheist, probably. I don't really care as long as people aren't dicks to each other about what their religion is," I smack down a winning card. "Where's your God now?”

We laugh, talk for a little longer, and Brody ends up falling asleep in the barn, on my bed.

I put a pillow behind his head and I sleep on the sofa, but I wish I could share the bed with him. It's a double bed, so I probably could, but I don't trust myself not to put my arms around him in my sleep, which would be awkward to explain in the morning.

I think I might be falling for him, and that is terrifying.