Page 77 of Robbin’ the Rich

17

ROBIN

My parents' house still felt like home. Not in the way my apartment did, with its gaming setup and derby gear scattered across every available surface. This was a different kind of home. The kind built from years of routine and familiarity. The kind where I knew exactly which floorboard creaked in the hallway and where my mom kept the good snacks. Being an only child meant I'd spent most of my life as the center of my parents' world, and even now, well into adulthood, they still fussed over me like I was twelve.

The second I walked through the door, the smell of pot roast hit me. Mom was pulling a pan of rolls from the oven while Dad stood at the kitchen island pretending to help and actually stealing carrots from the serving dish.

"You're late," Mom said.

"I’m three minutes early."

"Well, it feels later than that."

I laughed and bent to kiss her cheek before stealing a roll for myself.

"See, David? You’re a bad influence on her. You two won’t even let me get dinner on the table before you start picking at it."

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

Dinner itself was easy, just like all the meals we'd had hundreds of times before. Dad asked about work, which really meant he wanted to talk accounting. Most people would probably find that boring, but I found it oddly relaxing.

"Tax season isn't even close," mom said as she passed the potatoes. "How is there still so much to talk about?"

"It’s not just a tax season job, Susan."

Mom rolled her eyes. Listening to two accountants discuss bookkeeping was apparently her personal version of purgatory.

The conversation drifted naturally from work to town gossip to updates about people we'd known forever. It was comfortable enough that I almost forgot about the thing sitting between us. The problem with me was that I wasn't very good at pretending something didn't exist.

Eventually I set down my fork.

"So. Ascension."

Mom immediately sighed. Dad took a very deliberate sip of water. That alone told me everything.

Mom closed her eyes briefly. "We were having such a nice dinner."

"We're still having a nice dinner," my dad said.

"No, we're not. Not if we are about to talk about Ascension,” I said.

Dad rubbed a hand over his face. "Then why did you bring it up, sweetheart?"

“Because we need to talk about it. I cannot believe after everything you two are going there.”

“Honey, it’s not what you think. After I retired, I was so… Well, I was so bored. I miss talking to people every day. I just thought we could find a little community. My friend said that it had changed… and so we thought we would go and see for ourselves.”

I shook my head. They could not be this dumb or think it wouldn’t bother me.

My dad cleared his throat. “I had my reservations about it as well, but it really is different now. The new pastor has modernized it. The old teachings of Pastor Young aren’t there anymore.”

“Then why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because we knew how you would react.”

My brow furrowed as I pushed the food on my plate around. How I would react? Of course, I would react badly.

“Honey,” my mom reached across the table and took my hand. “I really am just looking for a community. I need something now that I’m no longer in the office every day.”