The Hating Game

“And he hasn’t disappointed me. Not once. Never have I gotten the call every parent dreads. The ‘Hey, Dad, I’m stuck in Mexico’ call. Never got that from Patrick.” Bigger laughs from the crowd now.

“Not from me, either,” Josh mutters into my ear.

“He graduated in the top five percent of his class. It’s been a privilege watching him grow into the man you see here,” Anthony intones. “His range of experience has gone from strength to strength and he’s well respected by his peers.”

I can’t detect any particular emotion in his voice, but he does look at Patrick for a fraction too long.

“I must say, the day he graduated med school, I could see myself in Patrick. And it was a relief, knowing we’d continue the medical dynasty.”

Behind my ear, I hear Josh draw in a sharp breath. His arm feels increasingly viselike around my shoulders.

Anthony lifts his glass. “But I believe you’re only as strong as the person you choose to live your life with. And today, by marrying Melinda, he’s made me a proud father yet again. And Mindy, might I say, you’ve chosen an outstanding Templeman to marry. Mindy, welcome to our family.”

We raise our glasses, but Josh does not. I look over my shoulder and see two people, heads together, whispering and watching us. Mindy’s mother looks at Josh with raw pity.

Mindy and Patrick cut the cake and feed each other a square. I’ve been looking forward to some cake for most of the day, and I’m not disappointed. A huge wedge of something chocolate and heavy is placed in front of me.

“Great speech. Thanks for that little remark,” Josh tells his father.

“It was a joke.” Anthony smiles at Elaine, but she’s not pleased.

“Hilarious.” Her glare turns glacial.

I know when a subject change is in order. “This cake looks like death by chocolate. I hope it’s not too naughty.”

“You would be amazed by the damage to arteries caused by high-fat diets,” Anthony pipes up.

“Would you say the occasional treat is okay? I hope so.” I’m forking the cake into my mouth.

“Ideally, no. Saturated fat, trans fats, once they go into your arteries, they aren’t coming out. Unless you have a heart attack and someone like Elaine has to fix you.”

“He’s a little strict with himself,” Elaine assures me as I drop my fork with a clatter and press my hands to my chest. “Treats are okay. They’re better than okay.”

“She asked my opinion,” Anthony points out gravely. “And I gave it.”

I notice he’s got no cake in front of him. I’m reminded of the all-staff meeting. Josh didn’t eat any cake then, either. I glance sideways, and to my surprise Josh picks up his fork and begins eating cake too. It’s a great big giant fuck-you to his dad. Over and over we fork cake into our greedy faces until Anthony’s forehead pinches in distaste, clearly unused to having his sage advice ignored.

“Self-indulgence is a tricky thing. It can be hard to get yourself back on track once you begin indulging trivial little impulses.” Anthony is not talking about cake. Josh drops his fork with a clatter.

Elaine looks wretched. “Anthony, please. Leave him alone.”

“Come with me,” I tell him, and to my mild surprise he rises obediently and walks with me to the shadowed edge of the empty dance floor.

“Can you please explain what’s going on? This tension is excruciating. I’m sorry, but your dad is being a dick. Is he always like this?”

He jams a hand into his hair. “Like father, like son.”

“No, you’re not like this. He’s being bitchy and your mom is upset. His speech was so weird.” Every single time I feel protective of Josh, the realization pings me right in the solar plexus. I take his hand, which is folded into a fist, and smooth my hand over the knuckles.

He watches my fingers. “Dinner’s over. We’ve gotten through it. That’s all I care about.”

“But why does it feel like all eyes are on you? It seems like everyone in this room is looking at you, wondering if you’re coping okay. It’s like, Hang in there, sport.”

“I think they’ll assume I’m not suffering too badly.” He loops a hand around my waist, and the glow of his flattery hits my bloodstream, along with probably two thousand premium cake calories.

“They’re wrong. No one makes you suffer like I do.” I receive a smile for my cleverness. “Are you okay? Please tell me about this Big Scandal that they’re all whispering about. I cannot fathom that you deciding to not be a doctor could cause such a fuss.”

It’s rare to see Josh procrastinate, but he does now. “It’s a long story. Bathroom first.”