My niece, Keely, was on my mom’s lap, tearing apart a waffle and shoving it into her mouth like only a two-year-old can. My nephew Jonas, who was four, was squeezing a steady stream of syrup over everything on his plate—waffles, bacon, sliced strawberries. The oldest, Zosia, was six, and she was concentrating hard on cutting her own waffle under my dad’s watchful eye.
“Hutton!” he boomed, glancing at me. “Still coming tonight?”
“Do I have a choice?”
“Nope, I already told the guys you’ll be there.” He grinned. “They’re excited to have a celebrity at the game, but a little worried about your deep pockets.”
“I’m not a celebrity, Dad,” I muttered, taking a coffee cup down from the cupboard.
“They should be worried about him counting cards, not placing high bets,” said my sister, filling up my cup from the pot.
“Hutton has never cheated a day in his life!” My mom was outraged at this attack on my honor. “And he knows that nothing good ever comes from taking a penny you didn’t earn. It brings bad luck.”
My sister and I exchanged a look. Our mother was famously superstitious—which one of my therapists thought explained my belief in magic powers as a kid. He might have been right, but it wasn’t really the breakthrough he thought it was and definitely didn’t merit the price tag of those sessions. Thousands of dollars just to be told our parents can fuck us up? People called cryptocurrency a racket, but therapy was a hundred times worse.
I gave Allie a lot of shit about that.
“But what if you find a penny on the street, Grandma?” asked Zosia. “Isn’t that good luck?”
“Depends if you find it tails or heads side up,” she answered seriously. “The ancient Romans believed if you saw a coin heads up, it was lucky, but if it was tails up, you should turn it over and leave it for the next person.”
My sister laughed. “I’ll keep that in mind in case I come across any ancient Roman coins. In the meantime, I’m gonna predict that being a math genius gives Hutton the edge at the poker table tonight.”
“The only edge being a math genius might give someone at the poker table is knowing they should quit early and go home with all their money,” I said, taking a sip of coffee. “The reason casinos are so huge is because most people have no idea how probability works.”
“Hutton.” My mother was studying me intently, like she was trying to read my mind. This was a habit of hers. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.”
“You don’t look fine.”
“I’m fine, Mom.”
“Look at him, Stan. Does he look fine to you?”
My dad shrugged. “I suppose so.”
“You don’t think he looks sort of pale and sad around the eyes?”
“Sad around the eyes?” My father squinted at me. “Maybe a little.”
“I’m getting a sense of loneliness and discontent within your aura.”
Allie snickered as she washed her hands at the sink.
“Stop it,” I said. “My aura is fine.”
“You don’t have to pretend with us, sweetheart.” My mom’s voice softened. “We’re your family.”
“I’m not pre—”
“Money can’t buy happiness, you know,” she went on. “True happiness comes from our connection to others and to our higher selves. It doesn’t come from things like yachts or private jets or fancy cars.”
“I don’t own any of those things, Mom.”
But she was on a roll. “It comes from allowing yourself to be loved and offering love in return. Isn’t that right, Stan?”
“That’s right, Barb.” My dad took my mother’s hand across the table.
“And you don’t need to be rich or famous or brilliant to find love.” Her eyes misted over. “You just have to accept yourself as you are, and open your heart.”
“Actually, I think being rich, famous, and brilliant makes it harder,” said Allie. “You’d get a lot of people wanting to be close to you, but maybe for the wrong reasons.”
“I’m not saying it’s easy to find,” my mom clarified. “I’m just saying that we’re all worthy. Don’t you agree, Hutton?”
“Yes,” I said, mostly just to get her to stop talking.
My mother didn’t understand. No one did.
I’d tried to have relationships. I’d attempted to let people in. But dating was a fucking nightmare. Even maintaining friendships was hard because I rarely accepted invitations. And when I did, the amount of energy it took to appear confident enough to just hang out and make conversation was exhausting. But I was good at it, so nobody ever understood why I hated clubs and parties.