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It’s the muffins, of all things, that start the argument.
“I’m sorry, Ana,” he manages in the politest voice possible as he pushes the plate of Mount Muffins Vesuvius away, “I can’t eat this.”
“Oh no,” Ana says, turning to Dad. Eddie shrugs around a mouthful of brownie. “Um, Chris, I-I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you had an… allergy?” she tries. Christopher shakes his head.
“Not an allergy,” he says, drawing that last word out, a result of his CP, so it comes off more sarcastic than he intends. He hopes Ana doesn’t take it that way. Despite his initial aversion to Dad dating, he really did pick a winner with Ana, and he would hate to accidentally scare her off. “I don’t eat anything that comes from animals anymore,” he explains.
It’s Dad’s turn to speak after Ana tosses him a confused look, facing Christopher with that classic dad look that says he’s going to treat this like a phase in the nicest, daddest way possible. “And when did this development start?”
“Yesterday,” he replies determinedly, “at Buck’s house. He cooks vegan stuff when I’m there so I’m vegan now.”
Evidently, that’s not enough explanation for them, because Ana and Dad trade another look. Dad looks so small underneath Ana’s intense, almost angry glare.
“You know, I think there are still some muffins in the oven that need to be taken out,” Dad says. Honestly, Chris doesn’t understand why Dad lies when Chris knows the truth. Maybe he doesn’t think Chris knows the truth. Or maybe Ana doesn’t know the truth.
That statement doesn’t seem to erase the wrinkles from Ana’s mouth, but she seems to agree with the lie, following Dad into the kitchen. When Dad closes the door softly behind them, Chris presses up against it to listen.
He hears Ana speak first: “He shouldn’t be forcing his-his lifestyle upon a child,” she says in a voice just above a whisper, “he’s young and impressionable.”
“Look, I’m sure there’s a misunderstanding,” Dad says softly, “Buck would never force Chris to do anything. Usually when this kind of stuff happens, it’s because Buck’s on some new kick too, and Chris just wants to emulate him. My kid loves him.”
“Why do you do that?”
“Do what?” Dad asks.
“Come to his defense?”
“Who?” Dad asks. “Christopher? He’s my son.”
“No, Buck,” Ana says, “you’re always quick to defend or correct someone’s remarks about him. Why don’t you afford me the same grace?”
“I always defend you,” Dad argues, again, lying.
“Oh yeah,” Ana laughs, and Chris doesn’t understand why because it’s not a laugh; it’s dry and lacks any mirth, “like that day in the suit shop when I had to stammer my way through an awkward explanation of my relationship to Christopher. Or how about the fact that you haven’t introduced me to your team yet? You know, the people who are supposedly your found family? We’ve been dating four months, Eddie.”
“What’re you saying?” Dad challenges, an edge of anger in his tone. “Huh? That I’m not doing enough, is that it? I was shot, Ana.”
“How long are you gonna keep using that?”
Dad scoffs, “You’re being unbelievable.”
“No,” she bites back, matching his anger, “what’s unbelievable is how I’m standing here trying to convince you I’m worth your time and-and love and effort, and you…” Chris presses his ear tighter to the door, thinking she’s speaking low, but she’s just pausing. “Do you love me?”
“Of course I do,” Dad replies weakly and a little too quickly.
“Say it,” Ana challenges.
“I care about you a lot, Ana.”
A scoff from Ana. “That’s what I thought.”
“What, so now you’re rushing me into saying the big ‘l’ word?”
“You say that like it’s a scary thing.”
“Well, it kinda is,” Dad says, and in her defense, he does sound scared, “it’s kind of a big deal.”
“Now I’m a big deal.” Another pause. Christopher stays perfectly still this time so he doesn’t accidentally give away what he’s doing. “Okay. Right.”
“What’s your angle, Ana?”
Ana seems offended by that comment. “My angle? Wow,” she says, drawing the word out like Chris did earlier, except Ana doesn’t have CP. “My angle, Edmundo, is trying to propose the idea that maybe Buck isn’t a good influence on your son. I care about him deeply and I'm telling you, I see this all the time in my line of work. These kids, they want to emulate, as you call it, these-these false idols. Chris, he’s smart, but he’s not smart enough to see that happening. Like I said, he’s young and impressionable.”
Chris has never heard such finality and bitterness in Dad’s tone as when he says, “Get out.”
There’s a long stretch of silence so loud, Chris can hear Ana’s phone buzzing on the countertop. “What?” she says finally.
“You heard me. We’re done.”
“This is because of Buck, isn’t it?” Chris doesn’t like the way she says Buck’s name, like it’s a bad word.
“No,” Dad says, “it’s because you talked down about my son.” Another pause. “You can come back for your stuff later. I just need you to leave right now.”
“What?” she repeats. Chris is confused; Ana was a teacher before she became a principal, so that means she’s, like, super smart. What doesn’t she understand about Dad telling her to leave?
“Now,” Dad sterns the way he would if Chris tried advocating for longer bedtime after being caught spending three hours online gaming. “End of discussion.”
“Who’s talking down to who now?” Ana scoffs. “Fine. Fine,” she says, grabbing what sounds like her purse, “have a nice life, Edmundo. Tell Buck I say hi. I’m sure he doesn’t give you panic attacks.”
Christopher’s never scrambled away from anything faster than his own kitchen door at that moment; he nearly trips over his crutches.
When they come out, Ana’s rushing off, stopping only halfway to the front door to turn around and address him. “It’s been a pleasure, Chris,” is all she says.
“Dad, what did she mean by that?” Chris asks after she’s long since stalked off and out the door, “That Buck doesn’t give you panic attacks?”
“Who knows,” Dad says next to him before placing a hand on his small shoulder. “I’m sorry you had to see that, buddy. I know you liked Ana.”
“It’s okay,” Chris says, not like a liar, “I liked her, but she made too many muffins.”
He’s not sure why Dad laughs at that—adults are so weird—but he’s glad to see him smiling.
“Dad, can I still be a vegan?”
There’s that laugh again, followed by the ruffle of his hair. “Of course, buddy. You can be anything you want to be for as long as you want to be.” There’s that edge of doubt, that assumption Chris’s veganism will be short-lived, but it’s good enough for him. He knows Dad struggles with words and feelings, but he’s getting there.
He gives up veganism three days later because he misses cookies too much, but, judging by the way Dad’s taken to Buck’s cooking (Chris too, Buck’s vegan muffins are way better than Ana’s), and how often Buck comes over to cook since the breakup, he has a feeling whatever’s going on between them isn’t going to be a phase.