"You're wearing leather sandals," Seth points out.
"How do you know these aren't vegan sandals made of faux leather?" I ask him.
We're locked into a showdown, and I'm not sure how we even got here. I lower my fork, which I've been holding in a manner that might be construed as aggressive.
"Are they?" he asks.
I pause and consider my answer, wishing these damn sandals were fake leather. The truth is, I can't afford the fancy Brooklyn stores that sell vegan clothing. These sandals are from Macy's clearance rack, and it's highly possible (though not certain) that they're proof of my hypocrisy. All eyes are on me, and there's way too much pressure on me to tell the truth. Besides, how pathetic am I that I'm going to lie about the origin of my shoes just to win an argument with a Neanderthal?
"Probably not," I admit.
"I rest my case.” Seth spins the corncob in his fingers.
"At least I don't kill my pets," I say, quickly adding, "or I wouldn't if I had any."
Seth shrugs. "Maybe those shoes were someone's Stanley. You could be wearing someone's pet right now."
I push my chair back from the table and stand up to leave. "See, this is why I don't discuss my vegetarianism at dinner tables. Please excuse me."
Renata stretches her hand across the table, but I'm too far away for her to reach.
"Don't go, please, honey. Seth, apologize to Andie." She has her mom voice on now. "She didn't want to talk about being a vegetarian in the first place, I heard her say so. You don't know when to stop picking."
He stands up next to me like a contrite child and places his warm hand on my upper arm.
"I'm sorry, Andie. I thought we were just joking around."
I must be an emotional basket case right now because his gentle touch and worried expression bring tears to my eyes that I have to blink away.
"It's okay.” I sit down again, mostly because I don't want to look like a drama queen.
Dinner is quiet until Michael, who I have tagged as the people-pleaser of the group, starts talking about how great it will be when he and Harmony move out to the farm someday.
"I thought you lived in Chapel Hill," I say.
Before dinner, Michael told me he and Harmony lived in the college town where he works at a lab that makes pharmaceuticals. He's a chemist who does something with quality control. It's one of those jobs that someone explains to you and you don't quite understand, but you nod to avoid looking stupid.
"We do," he says, taking the salt shaker away from Harmony before she dumps the entire thing on her corn. "But we're going to move out here next year. Seth's built a cabin for himself on the property, and this fall he's going to help me build a place where Harmony and I can live."
It's judgmental, I know, but I can't help thinking that Harmony might be better off in Chapel Hill, a college town and one of the more progressive places in North Carolina. My friend Amina got her doctorate at the University of North Carolina, and she loved it. I asked her about Foster's Creek when Dad started his long-distance relationship with Renata, but she'd never heard of it. She didn't travel much outside the Chapel Hill bubble and after meeting Seth, I can see why. Then again, Michael probably needs his mother's help, now that he's a single parent.
"Are you excited to live in the country?" I ask Harmony.
"Yes! Then I can see Tiana every day, and brush her and feed her carrots. I can even learn how to milk her. Maybe I could put her in a goat show someday, like Uncle Seth did with Stanley. Only I'm not going to let anyone eat her afterwards."
"No one would do that," Michael assures her.
She eyes Uncle Seth, as if she isn't so sure that he's on board with this statement.
"I'm so lucky that two of my boys will be living near me," Renata says. "Now if only we could get Trey down here, but he'll never leave the city."
She beams at Seth and Michael, and I have to choke down the lump forming in my throat.
"Sounds like you've got your own family compound forming down here." Even though I try to hide it, the bitterness slides into my voice. Renata hears it, too.
"It's nice to have your family close," she says gingerly. "I'm sure you've missed your dad this summer."
I spear a piece of lettuce and shove it into my mouth, demanding that those unshed tears building in my eyes sink back from whence they came. I will not let these people see me cry. Especially the inscrutable Seth, who is watching my every movement.
