Page 16 of The Ring
Laurie gives me an exasperated look.
“Fine, but he isn’t coming, right? Not like last time when he wasn’t supposed to be there but showed up anyway.”
“Dad is out of the country on business, so you have nothing to worry about,” Laurie tells me. I’ll believe him when I see it.
I turn to West, who’s very underdressed in just a pair ofgrey pyjama bottoms like me, unlike Laurie, who’s dressed in a navy-blue jumper and a pair of jeans. “Are you coming?”
He’s invited to almost every family function, including the Sunday brunch, which he attends more often than I do. My mother practically considers him her third son.
“I think I’m going to sit this one out. I’m also hungover, and I didn’t promise anything,” West answers, giving me a smug smile.
I sigh into my coffee cup. Lucky him.
Laurie taps his watch. “Tick-tock, tick-tock.”
“Give me ten minutes to jump in the shower and get dressed,” I tell him, heading back to my room.
“TJ,” West calls out, and I turn to look at him. “Aren’t you forgetting someone?” He points to my bedroom.
Fuck,I totally forgot about the girl.
“I take it back. Give me twenty minutes,” I say to Laurie. “Unless you could—” I start to ask West.
He interrupts me, “No, I’m not getting rid of her for you.”
I sigh. “Alright, I will do it.”
“Sweetie, is the food not to your liking? You’ve barely touched your plate,” my mum asks, eyeing my almost untouched meal.
We’re at Dovetail. My mother hosts brunch at home half the time, and the other half, we go to a restaurant to mix things up. Today is one of those days.
“I had a big dinner yesterday,” I lie. I’m not going to admit that if I eat more, I’ll probably end up throwing up.
She nods, her green eyes softening on me. My mother has Laurie’s eye colour but the same brown hair as me. With my father, it’s the opposite—I have his greyish eyes, and he has Laurie’s brown hair.
“More like a lot of alcohol,” Nate mutters under his breath, low enough so our mothers can’t hear, but loud enough for me to catch it as he sits beside me.
I don’t know what his problem is. He’s been unbearable since December—always passive-aggressive and judgmental. I thought it was all due to his breakup with his ex-girlfriend, Amelie, who, according to him, broke up with him, but I saw Amelie’s best friend a few weeks ago at a pub, and she told me the exact opposite—along with some colourful words about Nate.
“How are your classes, Laurie? You’re almost a month in, right? You must have a feel for them by now,” Aunt Clarisse asks.
“I have one class where the professor is against technology and makes us take all notes by hand. But other than that, they’re all good,” Laurie answers her.
“Oh, I loved college so much,” my aunt replies, her voice full of longing, like every time she talks about it, and she places her hand gently on my mother’s.
My mum looks at her and smiles. “I know. It was such a fun experience.”
My mum and aunt went to St Andrews together; that’s how they met. They were roommates and became inseparable. Later, my aunt introduced her brother (my father) to my mother. They started dating almost immediately, and the rest is history.
My aunt is almost an exact physical copy of my father, just with her being female. They have the same hair colour, eye colour, and almost identical bone structure. They could pass as twins. They even dress in the same style of suit.
“Definitely, we had such great times. I’m so proud of Nate and everything he’s achieved,” Clarisse says, looking at Nate with an expression of pride I haven’t seen directed at me by myparents in ages. “But sometimes I worry he’s missing out on the college experience by starting to work so early on.”
“I may not be in college, but I don’t feel I’m missing out on anything,” Nate glances briefly at me. “And at least I’m doingsomethingworthwhile.”
I suspect everyone caught the jab at me, but they ignore it. My mum angles her body towards my aunt, and they start reminiscing about anecdotes from their college days, which they could go on for hours. Sometimes I think these brunches are just an excuse for them to see each other more often than they already do.
“What’s your problem, mate?” I ask Nate in a low voice.
