table, stuffing my mouth with delicious, crispy bacon.
“Why couldn’t you come again? It’s skipped my memory entirely,” she adds inquisitively, acting as if she didn’t have the foggiest notion as to why I was out last night.
She’s acting all clueless and aloof, which are two characteristics that have nothing to do with my mother. Nothing gets by Charlene Walker, including the reason for my absence last night.
Sunday dinners are a big deal in the Walker household. The whole family gathers for the best southern cooking, which is usually prepared by Mom and our in-house cook, Martha. It’s the only time during the week where everyone gets under the same roof to eat, drink, and meddle in each other’s business.
Trust me. I didn’t miss out on anything by ditching dinner. I’ve had twenty-two years of my share of Walker drama. If I missed last night’s performance, then I’m sure I’ll get the highlights next week, even though each dinner feels more like the same rerun to me.
I stuff another forkful in my mouth, hoping she will get the hint. But even if she does, she isn’t going to drop it.
“Finn, sweetheart, slow down. Tell me, how was your night?”
“It was fine,” I retort with a lukewarm smile.
“Just fine? I’m sure you can do better than that. I mean, it isn’t every day that my youngest starts courting a girl.”
“I’m not courting anyone. And by the way, who says courting nowadays? This isn’t a reenactment of Gone with the Wind, Momma. So don’t go all Scarlet O’Hara on me now. And besides, I thought you said you couldn’t remember what I was up to last night. It’s a sin to lie, Mom,” I tease, pointing my fork toward her.
She rolls her eyes at me in such a way that I’m oddly impressed they didn’t pop out of their sockets. My mother might be in her mid-fifties, but she can give an eye roll that would rival any teenage girl. Setting down the jar of baby food, she turns and gives me her undivided attention, all because of my lip. I slump in my chair, knowing I’m not going to get off so easily.
Way to play it cool, Finn. You moron.
“Boy, you might be twice my size, but don’t think for a minute I won’t jump across this table just so I can give you an ear pulling,” she threatens. “Now tell your momma what she wants to hear. How was your date last night?”
“It was okay.”
“Just okay?”
“Yes, Momma. We went to dinner and had a nice time. Then I drove her back to her dorm. Like I said, it was okay.”
“If it was okay, then why do you look like someone kicked your puppy?”
“Puppy!” Noah yells ecstatically, looking at the floor in search of one. “Puppy! Puppy!”
“Jesus, Charlene! Quiet that baby down. Can’t a man have one peaceful morning in his own house?” my father blurts out, snapping his precious newspaper closed and slamming it on the table. “And if the boy doesn’t want to give all the sordid details of his date to his momma, respect his privacy and leave it be. Finn has more important things to worry about than girls anyway. Football season has begun, and he has to keep his head in the game. The only thing he should be concerned about chasing is a championship, not girls.”
“Not everything should revolve around football, Hank. Finn deserves a life, too.”
“He’ll get a life once he’s drafted, not before,” my father deadpans, looking directly at me, making sure I have my head on straight.
I look over at my mother, her head bowed down into a coffee mug, unable to look me in the eye. Even baby Noah has his little chubby fist in his mouth, somehow sensing the tense mood. Breakfast continues on in this awkward and strained atmosphere, until my father finally excuses himself, leaving the room to go about his business elsewhere.
The minute he leaves, I place my elbows on the table and shove my hands into the sides of my head, feeling a migraine coming on.
“Don’t pay any mind to your father, Finn,” my mother tries to console, ensuring that he can’t hear the disobedient remark.
“Pretty hard to do when his voice is permanently ringing in my ears,” I confess, shaking my head, wishing his words would somehow slip out of it and stop tormenting me so.
“I know. He’s a difficult man, your father, but he loves you, Finn. All he wants is for you to be