When the Dust Settles

The Family's Alright

CHAPTER NINE

The Family's Alright

#

FEBRUARY 2009

"You gotta meet my family, bro," Dawson said as he threw his flip phone into the air, sprawling himself out across my bed.

"What? Why?" I asked, kicking my feet up onto my desk, my head hanging over the back of this shitty rolling chair.

We were bored. We finally had a day to ourselves and we didn't know what to do. Neither of us were able to drink legally and we were virtually broke.

Well, I wasn't. My dad set up a bank account for me and had complete control over it. I hated it. It was my money that I earned and yet here I was at almost nineteen, asking my dad for permission to buy shit.

Dawson caught his phone and huffed.

"I dunno, I think you'd like them. They'd like you. Probably more than me," he mumbled, resting his hands on his chest and staring up at the ceiling. There wasn't a chuckle or a hint of humor in his voice. I furrowed my brows and looked over at him.

"Why are you talking like that? Are your folks in town?"

He sighed as he closed his eyes. "Yeah. My parents and my sister are driving down to visit. I've been procrastinating on gettin' ready. We're supposed to have dinner tonight but I don't want to go."

Dawson didn't get along with his family too much. They hated that he joined the Army. "Anything but the Army!" They would say. Dawson would be the first to say he wasn't too smart and not the most imaginative, so he followed in his grandpa's footsteps, deciding that the Army was the only choice he had. Regardless, he was a good-hearted person.

I didn't blame him for resenting his parents–they were overbearing. Since we were stationed in Fort Bragg, his family lived only a few hours away, just over the border in South Carolina. Apparently, they pestered him often about visiting and checking in on him. I figured he probably ignored them up until he couldn't.

They wanted him to be an architect like his dad, or something. Dawson was different. It sucked for him, no doubt. He expressed how he always felt like he was living in his younger sister's shadow. His family showered her with praise while they always pushed Dawson to be more like her.

"You buyin' my dinner?" I chuckled. He opened his eyes and glanced over at me with a smirk.

"Stingy asshole."

#

We looked like a couple of kids after raiding their dad's closet, walking into the half-way fancy restaurant with oversized dress shirts, only half-buttoned. God, we were such idiots.

Sitting at one of the booths was his family. It was the first time I'd ever seen them in person. Dawson showed me pictures that he kept in his room, but it was nothing like seeing them in person.

As we approached the table, the first I noticed was his father, Liam Dawson. He was cleanly shaven with short brown hair and glasses perched on his nose. He stood up to greet us, towering and imposing. Almost as intimidating as one of the drill sergeants. The dimples in his cheeks deepened as he smiled at his son.

"Jake," he said, stepping out of the booth and pulling his son into a tight hug. I stood back awkwardly as he met with his family.

His mom stood up, her movements delicate and purposeful. She wore a loose, flowery sundress and had that famous, Dawson-family blonde hair. Her brown eyes were accented by a killer smile. Dawson and his mom exchanged hugs as his sister stepped out.

Mia Dawson, Jake's sixteen-year-old sister, was a rebel, wearing gray cargo pants and a floral tank top. Her blonde hair flowed down her back, and she tucked stray strands behind her ears. Her cheeks were round with a touch of pink, like she'd just come in from the cold or had been caught mid-laugh. She looked out of place beside her parents.

I watched as she glanced at me several times before bashfully looking away. She liked what she saw. So did I.

I knew it was a terrible idea to even form such thoughts. She was sixteen. I was eighteen. And, while maybe two years wasn't a huge problem, I was still of legal age. But I was an idiot, and it didn't stop me from looking.

Checking her out distracted me from properly greeting Dawson's parents. I definitely deserved the sharp elbow he jabbed into my side as Mia blushed, turning away from me.

"This is my dad. Dad, this is Reiner–I mean Markus," Dawson said, gesturing towards me. We weren't used to calling each other by our first names yet. After joining the Army, I became a whole new person–my last name became my new identity. It felt odd whenever someone called me Markus.

I shook his father's hand firmly and nodded with a small smile, saying, "Nice to meet you, sir."

I shook everyone's hand, but I focused most of my attention on Mia. We locked eyes, and though we wore innocent smiles, there was something unspoken beneath them. Her irises were like moons-gray and mysterious. They were uncharted, undiscovered, longing for someone to understand.

I tried to focus on dinner as the Dawsons conversed, but I couldn't keep my eyes off Mia. Our food was served, and the table went silent, save for the clinking of silverware. Midway through, Liam started grilling Dawson with personal questions about life and his plans for the future. 

Meanwhile, Dawson's mom began asking me questions about my life, not-so-subtly dragging Mia into the conversation. Mia's cheeks turned rosy as her mom mentioned an embarrassing story about some musical Mia performed in as a kid. Mia laughed nervously, tucking a stubborn strand of hair behind her ear, mortified by the memory. I chewed my lip, biting away my own smile.

Dawson glanced over at me every so often, but I was too distracted to realize that he was looking for support. His expressions shifted subtly–the discomfort in his eyes, the tightening of his jaw. At some point, his dad began to lecture him about wasting his life away, but his mom quickly intervened.

I eventually caught on to his pleas for help, but Dawson was already irritated by then. I nudged his leg to get his attention while his parents talked amongst themselves. He shot me an annoyed look out of the corner of his eyes.

"You good?" I asked, lifting a brow.

Dawson let out a frustrated sigh and closed his eyes for a brief moment before turning to me, his voice low. "This is killing me. I don't know if I can do this for another hour."

I placed a hand on his shoulder and squeezed. "We don't gotta stay."

"You sure?" Dawson asked, casting a glance at Mia. She was staring at us, the only person with no one to talk to. Dawson sneered at her and she wrinkled her nose, sticking out her tongue. He rolled his eyes and looked at his parents while they still spoke softly.

Before I could respond, Dawson shook his head and shrugged. "Let's stay."