the icy wife. She launches into her usual spiel about all the things she’s accomplished since leaving Spruce, who she’s worked for, which celebrities she’s come into contact with—and so on and so on. I could recite half of her spiel for her. “It’s inspiring to me, the notion of helping out my hometown mayor. You know, coming back here, I feel such a lovely rush of—”
“What a ridiculous circus,” Raymond grumbles, cutting her off—much to her visible surprise. “Haven’t had to lift a finger in years, and here the Strongs go, makin’ me work to keep my office. This all the butter we get?” He flags down a server. “More butter!”
Not a please nor a thanks. I doubt either word has come out of that man’s lips in years. How can Spruce be such a pleasant place with such an entitled, lazy man sitting on its figurative throne?
I study my mom’s face, watching as she slowly gnaws on her tongue. She clearly didn’t appreciate being cut off, but has more sense than to challenge the mayor. She simply turns back into the switched-off robot, minding the rest of her dinner. I feel a sudden urge to rub her back or reassure her in some way, until I realize she would probably not like the gesture in front of everyone—and also I remember she’s still mad at me and giving me the silent treatment.
“Your son’s been quiet,” the mayor notes suddenly, eyeing me the way a cheery grandpa eyes his grandson he’s about to tickle.
My father smiles warmly my way. “Oh, he’s just a bit intro—”
“Let your dang boy talk on his own,” Raymond cuts him off with a laugh. “He’s got a mouth, right?” He faces me. “What’s your name, again? Donnie, was it? Same as my brother’s name, that is.”
I wipe my hands off on my napkin, then turn my attention to him. “Donovan.”
“But you go by Donnie, right? ‘Bout time,” he says when the server brings him a plate with no less than five pats of butter on it. He digs right into one, slathering the rest of his dinner roll in it. “Your father here’s told me a lot about you. You’re an actor, huh?”
“For now.”
The mayor, who was apparently expecting a longer answer than that, lets a moment of silence pass as he continues jabbing butter into a dinner roll with his knife. Then he eyes my dad. “Not a big talker, huh?” He chomps off a bite.
My dad chuckles. “He’s been cast as the lead in the play at his school. He’s also an artist. He won an award for an illustration he—”
“I heard about that play,” clips Raymond. He shakes his head. “Delilah Joy always presses my buttons every year with her tastes in so-called Theatre. Nothing against the gays, I love them, I wish I had ten gay sons, but is all that romantic nonsense really the best choice for a high school production? These are teenagers!”
The smile my father keeps pasted on his face grows tighter by the second. “It’s certainly a mature choice!”
“Mature.” Raymond scoffs at that, then drops his bread to go for another snow crab leg with his greasy, buttery fingers, digging for it on his plate next to the carcass that remains of his lobster. “I think she should’ve stuck with Wizard Of Oz, or Our Town, or a play that gives more parts to all her kids. I like a show I can bring my family to. I didn’t hear anyone complaining about the Theatre Arts program at the last city council meeting. Why’d she go and change things up with this weird lovebird show?”
My father opens his mouth to cheerily reply.
But I’m faster: “I think Ms. Joy is acknowledging that teens see and feel a lot more than they’re given credit for. We have issues. We have opinions. We have libidos. We aren’t a bunch of puppets made to just entertain crowds of simpleminded people like you.”
Everyone’s eyes at the table turn to me, stunned. Including my father’s. Including my mother’s. Including the mayor’s wife’s.
The mayor himself, however, gives me one long, testing look. Then, as sudden as a firework, he explodes with riotous laughter. “Your son! HA!” He drops his crab leg onto his plate with a crash, then shakes his head at my father. “He’s got a lip on him! I like this one! Simpleminded, he said?” Another explosion of laughter rips out of his big belly so potently, his wife can only