that he’s doing a pretty good job. He opens his mouth to begin to say something and my dad starts to laugh.
“I’m only kidding, son. Call me Oliver. It’s a pleasure to meet you too.” He pulls a bewildered Greyson into a hug and does that manly slap thing on his back. I told you. Rhodeses are huggers. Till the day we die.
We all settle around the kitchen in various places, falling into easy conversation as we watch my dad finish cooking. He’s making code green and code yellow—our favorites! My stomach growls again. Once all of us kids moved out, my dad started bribing us to come home for dinner by cooking our favorite foods. Code yellow is homemade mac and cheese (with the breaded crust) and code green is his famous Caesar salad. Needless to say, we very rarely miss family dinner. He’s finished it off with steak on the barbeque, and within minutes, we’re eating at the table.
“Have you talked to Kai lately?” my mom asks from across the table.
“I haven’t,” Beth responds before shoving a forkful of mac and cheese in her mouth. My sister may be a girly girl, but even she doesn’t mess around when it comes to good food.
“I talked to him a few days ago,” I say. I know that my parents miss him. He’s been gone away to school for almost two years now, and although he visits as often as he can, it’s still weird for them to have a child so far away.
“We spoke to him last night too. He says he’s sorry he couldn’t come home for Easter. They have practice tomorrow night, and it wouldn’t be worth the flight,” my mom answers back, looking a little sad.
“One more year, lamb chops,” my dad says, squeezing her shoulder. She smiles at the use of her nickname. “One more year and then he’ll be back.”
“Not if he gets picked up by the NHL,” Beth says through a mouthful of food, and I kick her under the table. She yelps. “What the hell was that for?”
“It was for two things. One, don’t talk with your mouth full of food, Beth. That’s gross. Two, we don’t know if he’s going to get picked up and we’ll deal with it if or when the time comes.” I’m glaring at her, attempting to communicate that Mom and Dad are already nervous about the possibility and her bringing it up so crudely isn’t helping.
“Whatever,” she says, and I roll my eyes. Sometimes my sister has zero filter. A slow Cheshire grin starts to spread across her face and I instantly know that I just screwed myself by calling her out in front of everyone. She turns her attention to dad. “So...when are you going to start grilling lover boy over here?” This time, Greyson is the one who kicks her underneath the table.
My parents laugh and my dad starts right in on Greyson, asking him a million questions under the sun. “What do you do for work, son?”
He proceeds to tell them all about his career as a paramedic and how much he loves his work. As he goes on to tell us a few stories, I can see my dad’s face soften and sternness in his eyes dissipates. My dad loves a hardworking man.
We move to the living room for desert, and as I sit down on the couch, Greyson pulls me into his side, draping a heavily tattooed arm around my shoulders. We continue to laugh and tell stories late into the evening, and by the time we go to leave, my eyes are heavy with sleep.
I kiss my parents goodbye, and as I watch them do the same to Greyson, my heart swells. They love him, just like I knew they would. I don’t even have to ask. It is written all over their faces. I see my dad lean in to whisper something in Greyson’s ear before giving him another slap on the back and pulling away.
“Have fun this weekend, you two!” Beth says, smiling.
My dad wraps his arms around my mom’s shoulders from behind, kissing her cheek. “Your mom’s going to love the place I’ve chosen this year,” he says proudly.
“I love it ever year, Olly, because every year, it’s with you,” she coos back, and I smile. My parents
“I’m only kidding, son. Call me Oliver. It’s a pleasure to meet you too.” He pulls a bewildered Greyson into a hug and does that manly slap thing on his back. I told you. Rhodeses are huggers. Till the day we die.
We all settle around the kitchen in various places, falling into easy conversation as we watch my dad finish cooking. He’s making code green and code yellow—our favorites! My stomach growls again. Once all of us kids moved out, my dad started bribing us to come home for dinner by cooking our favorite foods. Code yellow is homemade mac and cheese (with the breaded crust) and code green is his famous Caesar salad. Needless to say, we very rarely miss family dinner. He’s finished it off with steak on the barbeque, and within minutes, we’re eating at the table.
“Have you talked to Kai lately?” my mom asks from across the table.
“I haven’t,” Beth responds before shoving a forkful of mac and cheese in her mouth. My sister may be a girly girl, but even she doesn’t mess around when it comes to good food.
“I talked to him a few days ago,” I say. I know that my parents miss him. He’s been gone away to school for almost two years now, and although he visits as often as he can, it’s still weird for them to have a child so far away.
“We spoke to him last night too. He says he’s sorry he couldn’t come home for Easter. They have practice tomorrow night, and it wouldn’t be worth the flight,” my mom answers back, looking a little sad.
“One more year, lamb chops,” my dad says, squeezing her shoulder. She smiles at the use of her nickname. “One more year and then he’ll be back.”
“Not if he gets picked up by the NHL,” Beth says through a mouthful of food, and I kick her under the table. She yelps. “What the hell was that for?”
“It was for two things. One, don’t talk with your mouth full of food, Beth. That’s gross. Two, we don’t know if he’s going to get picked up and we’ll deal with it if or when the time comes.” I’m glaring at her, attempting to communicate that Mom and Dad are already nervous about the possibility and her bringing it up so crudely isn’t helping.
“Whatever,” she says, and I roll my eyes. Sometimes my sister has zero filter. A slow Cheshire grin starts to spread across her face and I instantly know that I just screwed myself by calling her out in front of everyone. She turns her attention to dad. “So...when are you going to start grilling lover boy over here?” This time, Greyson is the one who kicks her underneath the table.
My parents laugh and my dad starts right in on Greyson, asking him a million questions under the sun. “What do you do for work, son?”
He proceeds to tell them all about his career as a paramedic and how much he loves his work. As he goes on to tell us a few stories, I can see my dad’s face soften and sternness in his eyes dissipates. My dad loves a hardworking man.
We move to the living room for desert, and as I sit down on the couch, Greyson pulls me into his side, draping a heavily tattooed arm around my shoulders. We continue to laugh and tell stories late into the evening, and by the time we go to leave, my eyes are heavy with sleep.
I kiss my parents goodbye, and as I watch them do the same to Greyson, my heart swells. They love him, just like I knew they would. I don’t even have to ask. It is written all over their faces. I see my dad lean in to whisper something in Greyson’s ear before giving him another slap on the back and pulling away.
“Have fun this weekend, you two!” Beth says, smiling.
My dad wraps his arms around my mom’s shoulders from behind, kissing her cheek. “Your mom’s going to love the place I’ve chosen this year,” he says proudly.
“I love it ever year, Olly, because every year, it’s with you,” she coos back, and I smile. My parents
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