“I don’t think telling them about your wild teenage years will help,” Phoebe says.
“Teenage years?” Nana Rosie shakes her head of tight gray curls. “Darling, that was last summer. That’s another reason why I can’t go to a home or move in with your parents. It’ll cramp my style.”
She guides us into the dining room, sharing a few other colorful details from her moon orgy that I highly doubt I will ever be able to erase from my memory. The moment Phoebe and I sit at the table across from each other, something feels off. Mom’s in her usual spot opposite the head of the table, with her usual glass of white wine in hand, but she doesn’t bother to get up to say hello or offer us each a hug.
“What can I get you both to drink, ladies?” Marie asks. The faint scent of cigarette smoke lingers on her uniform, further confirming the tension in the room.
“Club soda,” I say.
“Me too.” Phoebe adds, “Mom, where’s Dad?”
“In his study,” she replies. “Marie, after you get the girls their drinks, please bring out the first course.”
“Without Dad?” I blurt out. “You can’t start dinner without him. He’ll riot.”
She doesn’t even look at me, much less acknowledge that I’ve said anything. How the hell can she be pissed when we’ve only just gotten here?
“Marie, will you let Carter know that we’re starting dinner?” Mom asks. “Then bring out the first course exactly five minutes after you’ve alerted him.”
Alerted him? Is my father one of Pavlov’s dogs now?
I shoot a look at Phoebe across the table. She shrugs back at me. Maybe it’s Fiona charging her crystals in her front yard? She’s no longer sunning herself, from what I can see through the window, but her lawn chair is still there along with her crystal collection. My mother would definitely find that disturbing, but I doubt it’d be enough to make my father hide out in his study.
“Hey, Mom, do you have any plans tonight?” I wink across the table at Nana Rosie. “Because if you don’t, there’s a moon ritual happening—”
“Well, it’s true.” My father’s voice booms from across the house. “You didn’t want to believe me, Silvia, but it’s official.”
My mother’s eyes double in size. She looks straight at me like a deer watching one of its deer buddies standing in the road, just seconds away from being run over.
“What’s official? Is Dad pregnant?” I laugh nervously. “Did Maury Povich just confirm it?”
“Oh, Penelope.” Mom shakes her head. “For once, spare us the jokes.”
The soles of my father’s loafers squeak on the marble floor as he comes to an abrupt stop. He’s clenching a fax in his hand. The Princeton letterhead is visible from my seat, as is the disappointed look on my father’s face. My stomach flip-flops.
“Penelope, do you know who I just got off the phone with?”
“I’m guessing not Maury?”
“Your counselor.” He points at the fax. “When were you planning on telling us that you’re failing all your courses? Just last week you told us that everything was going fine, and now I find out that you were lying to us again.”
A wave of embarrassment flushes over me. All of a sudden, I’m a ten-year-old kid again, being chastised at the dinner table for hiding my report card. I can feel everyone’s eyes on me, waiting for me to explain myself. Apparently, we can’t go a single holiday dinner without me giving a Sorry for being the family screw-up speech. It might as well be a course on the menu at this point.
“Thanks for the warm introduction, Dad.” I take a sip of the club soda Marie hands me, trying my best to play it cool. “It’s good to see you too.”
“Cut the crap, Penelope.”
His tone is harsher than I ever remember it being. It stings like ice water to the face on a snowy day. The corners of my eyes prickle with tears.
“Calm down, Carter,” Nana Rosie says. Her voice is calm but stern. “We’re supposed to be sitting down to Thanksgiving dinner. Not a boxing match.”
“We’ve talked on the phone every week this semester and never once did you mention you were struggling.” His face is red with heat. He jabs at the fax with his index finger. “Why would you lie to us? If your mother and I knew you were in trouble, we would’ve found a way to help you. You promised that we would be a team this semester, Penelope. You swore it.”