Chapter 10: Dinner as a Hostage Negotiation

Mom announced that Sunday dinner would be a family meeting, and then she laid out the rules.

"Nobody raise their voice," she said. "Nobody leave the table. Nobody say anything they can't take back."

Dad had come home that morning with a new phone alarm and a bag of juice boxes.

He lined the juice boxes up next to his plate, in a row of five.

"This is a safe space," he said, in a low, careful voice.

"Gordon," Mom said.

"I'm doing de-escalation."

"Please stop."

I sat with my hands flat on the tablecloth.

Colin sat across from me with his chicken and did not cut it.

June sat on my left, and I could feel how tense she was.

"Bobby," Mom said gently. "Your father and I have been talking."

"That's a first," I said.

"Bobby."

"Sorry. I'm opening with a demand."

Dad put down his fork.

"Go ahead," he said, with real interest.

"One. Nobody calls it a bit anymore. When I do something, it's not a bit. It's a thing I did because someone was in trouble."

"Fair," Dad said.

"Two. Nobody says I'm embarrassing in front of company."

"We never said..." Mom started.

"Mom. Last month, at your book club, you said 'oh, that's just Bobby' and everybody laughed. Four women. I was holding the tray."

Her mouth closed.

"Three." I took a breath. "I want to know who watched."

Dad frowned.

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