Rounding Third - Michelle Lynn Page 0,56
isn’t in the room. You’ve seen Crosby, I suspect?” My mom pulls out a chair and sits down.
“Yes.” Again, Ariel eyes me.
“How does he seem?”
Ariel and I both cock our heads in her direction.
“He seems really good.”
My mom nods her head, rising to her feet and going to the fridge. “Healthy?” she asks.
With my mom’s back turned to us, we take the opportunity to share a look that says, Where is she going with this?
“Yeah, really healthy,” Ariel answers.
I roll my eyes at her exaggeration of really.
My mom nods again, pulling things out from the fridge and setting them on the counter. “Thanks girls, now go help your dad until dinner is ready.”
I put the trays of cookies in the oven and set the timer, and we leave my mom to dinner.
An hour later, the four of us are sitting around the table in silence. My dad’s head is buried in his plate of tuna casserole while Ariel is rambling on and on about her classes.
I hate the uncomfortable vibe in the room. Everyone’s smiling toward Ariel, but our minds seem to be somewhere else.
“So, I met someone,” Ariel blurts out after talking about the mashed potatoes at the cafeteria and her algebra professor.
Forks stop scraping the plates, creaks echo from the chairs, and all eyes zoom in on her.
“So soon?” my mom says, her vision veering toward my dad.
“Too soon,” he answers the question, his fork digging around the noodles on his plate.
“Well, I already knew him.”
“Ariel,” I warn her. This is not her fight.
My mom’s head pings between the two of us.
“Is he someone from Beltline?” My mom tilts her head, surely going through her contacts on who else from Beltline goes to Ridgemont.
“Please tell me it’s not that Braxton Brentwood,” my dad says, having already done the math of who he knows attends Ridgemont. “He’s a funny kid, but he doesn’t exactly seem like a man who takes anything seriously.”
My mom’s hand lands on Ariel’s shoulder. “Sweetie, it’s not…” Again with the inability to say his name.
“No!” I toss my hands in the air.
Ariel straightens her shoulders, holding her head up high. This is it. There’s no stopping her now. “I’m seeing Spencer Lynch, Crosby’s brother.”
My dad pushes his chair away from the table, tossing his empty beer bottle into the trash and grabbing another one from the fridge. A low growl erupts from his throat.
“Did the Lynches invent some kind of love potion that only works on our girls?” my dad asks my mom.
But she never responds.
I disregard my dad’s comment. “She’s really happy. They’ve been talking over the years.”
Ariel smiles over to me, happy that I’m coming to her defense.
“Years?” My dad’s eyes examine my mother.
She vehemently shakes her head. “I had no idea.”
Ariel catches the fact that my dad thinks he’s the only one who’s been in the dark. “No one knew. Not even El.” She stands up and walks over to my dad.
He is hunched over the counter, the cold beer bottle resting in his palm, his head hanging.
Ariel places her hand on his shoulder, leaning closer. “I love him, Daddy.”
I watch my dad’s back rise and fall with heavy breaths. He’s never been one to have outbursts. He’s more likely to give the silent treatment.
“What do you want me to do, Ariel? Accept this? Accept the fact that your sister will have to be reminded her entire life?”
She glances back to me, and my mom’s head is in her hands, slow hiccups of breath struggling out.
Ariel’s eyes tear up, and this is all because of me. My parents’ distress, Ariel’s sadness. I’m to blame.
The picture flashes in my head. The secret relationship she’s had to keep. Well, not anymore. Ariel and Spencer can’t have anything else taken away from them because of their siblings.
“Dad, they’re great together,” I interject and he whips around.
“So are Crosby and Ella. Just like they used to be.” Ariel says.
His fist slams to the counter. “Enough.”
All three of us startle.
“The Lynch boys won’t come within one hundred feet of this house. I can’t control what you do up in Ridgemont, but I think I raised you better than to go behind our back. Your mother and I will never accept one of them into your life.” He takes his empty beer bottle, tossing it into the trash. “Now let’s have dinner.”
“No way. I love him and I’m not going to sit here like Ella did two years ago and throw him away. I’m an adult and you