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“Kaylee?”
My head snaps up. The table is silent, and they’re all looking at me.
“What?”
Dylan and Elena exchange a look before turning back to me.
“Are you okay honey?” my mom says.
“Wha– um, yes.” I nod. “Yes I am. Why’d you ask?”
“Well um.” Mom chuckles turning to Dad who is scratching the gray patch of hair behind his head. “You’ve been really quiet since you got here…you haven’t even touched your food.”
“Oh?” I turn down to my uneaten chicken salad dish. “Oh yeah, um.” I gulp, forcing a chuckle. “It’s fine, I’m just…I have a lot on my mind. It’s not a big deal.”
I pick up my fork, jabbing at the salad.
“Really?” Mom’s eyes slide down to my fork.
“Yeah.” I mutter, stuffing a forkful of food into my mouth to ease her suspicion. She nods, turning her gaze back to Elena.
“What time will Charlie be home?”
“Um.” She drops her fork. “Charlie has some work to finish up at the office, and he’s most likely going to miss dinner.”
“Aw, that’s disappointing. I haven’t seen him in a long time.”
“Yeah, he—” She takes a gulp of water. “He got this promotion, and—”
“That was the same thing you said the last time,” Dad cuts in. “you have to talk to him. I understand that he does important work, but he shouldn’t let that stop him from spending time with his family. He shouldn’t lose sight of what’s important.”
“Okay, Dad,” she affirms and smiles.
“When’s your next exhibition, Dylan?” Mom asks, slipping a forkful of salad into his mouth.
“I just did one a month ago!” Dylan laughs. “I haven’t even started with new paintings yet.”
“Oh really?” Dad chuckles. “It seems like so long ago. That’s how much I enjoyed it.”
“Thanks Dad. Don’t worry, the next one is going to be even bigger. There’s a possibility that I’m going to be holding it in new york. I mean, it’s still a discussion for now, nothing is set in stone yet, but yeah, it’s looing good.”
“Wow, that’s great, Dylan. I’m proud of you,” Mom says.
“Thanks, Mom.”
My insides knot as I listen to their stories. They’re all doing well with their careers. I’m the exception.
“How about you, Kaylee.” Dad turns to me.
My mouth goes dry, and I turn my gaze down to the plate in front of me. I haven’t told them that the winner of the grant has been announced. How do I tell them exactly? They listened to me bitch for months about the fact that Rachael stole my recipe and used it to build a more successful pastry shop. Winning this grant was how I would prove that I’m right, and the only reason she’s succeeding is because of my recipe. What excuse am I going to give to justify her winning the grant?
“Yes,” Mom says and drops her fork. “How about the grant you wanted to get from Andrews & Sons? Any progress with that?”
Shit.
“Yeah, um.” I nod. “They announced the winner. I didn’t get it.”
“Really?” Dylan’s forehead creases. “Who did then?”
