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Allison glanced down at the tablecloth nervously, fighting the urge to pull at the loose string. Andy’s family chattered about behind her, preparing dinner. She was kind of surprised Andy had so many sisters, but she supposed it made all the more sense for Mr. Clark to put pressure on Andy to become a wrestler. From what she’s heard about him, she doesn’t like him at all, but she has to impress him to gain his trust.
“So, Allison,” Mrs. Clark said from the seat across from Andy.
She popped her head up, brown eyes quickly surveying her surroundings, bringing her back from her daze.
“What do you plan to be when you grow up?” Mrs. Clark asked. “I imagine a bright young woman such as yourself has a few colleges in mind.”
“I, uh, I’m not very sure right now. I like to draw.” Allison always panicked when asked about her future. A month ago she figured she wouldn’t have one.
“You always underestimate yourself, Allie. You’re already an artist.” Andy smiled.
Her pale face became tinted with pink, she doubted she’d ever grow accustomed to Andy’s compliments.
“Oh how lovely. You should show us your art sometime.”
Allison could only manage a nod.
“I can only assume you were the one responsible for the scribbles all over Andrew’s forearms.” Mr. Clark commented from the living room.
“Douglas, stop it.” Mrs. Clark glared at him from the dining room.
“They weren’t scribbles.” Andy scowled at the same time.
He remembered the way she zeroed in on his forearms, her sharpie gracefully leaving ink in its wake. Intricate patterns of flora and geometric shapes covered his arm in a matter of minutes. Oh, he was enamored with her.
“So you must be looking into an art school?” Mrs. Clark faced Allison again.
Allison nodded, lying.
“Not much of a talker, are you?” She grinned.
She shook her head.
“That’s alright. I remember when Andrew was in elementary school, he always made sure to befriend all the shy ones. I’m glad he’s finally made a genuine connection.”
“Mother…” Andy covered his face with his hands.
Allison’s lips curled into a smile.
“You know, some of his ex-girlfriends have been really obnoxious.” One of his younger sisters, Helen, said as she silverware down on the table.
“Gosh, Matilda was a real b-i-t-c-h.” Sarah rolled her eyes. “You seem a lot nicer.”
“Thanks.” Allison held her skirt fabric in fists.
Andy immediately picked up on this.
“Y’know, I’d appreciate if you dipwads wouldn’t talk about my exes in front of my girlfriend.” He flicked Sarah’s arm.
“Ouch…”
“Andrew-“ Mr. Clark warned from the recliner.
Andy muttered something under his breath but remained quiet.
“Dinner’s ready!” The oldest of the Clark siblings, Jennifer, announced.
Old man Clark, as Andy called him, huffed as he made his way into the dining room.
“Hope you like spaghetti and meatballs.” Jennifer smiled as she gave the first plate to Allison.
She was about to dig in, but Andy stopped her.
“Would you like to lead us in grace, Allison?” Mrs. Clark asked once everyone was seated.
She felt all the eyes on her, and she wanted to shrivel like a salted slug and die.
“Her family isn’t religious, she doesn’t know any prayers.” Andy interjected. Some heroes don’t wear capes.
“I’ll lead then.” Mr. Clark said from the head of the table.
Everyone at the table started to hold hands, and Allison had almost never been more confused in her life. She held Andy’s hand with confidence, but she was hesitant to hold Helen’s. Oh well, here goes nothing.
When Mr. Clark was finished, everyone finally started to pick up their silverware and begin to feast.
“Does your family really not say grace before a meal?” Sarah asked.
Allison shook her head. She didn’t want them to know that she didn’t have dinner some nights, yet alone around the table with her parents.
“If you’re not religious, then what do you do every Sunday?” Helen asked with her mouth full.
“Whatever I feel like.” At least this is something she could answer with honesty.
“That’s so weird,” Helen said in awe before being sent dagger-like glares from Andy and Mrs. Clark.
The only weird thing here is that you guys hold hands every night and thank some guy for bread. Allison noted mentally.
She tore her garlic bread in half, and used her fingers to scoop spaghetti onto one side before plopping the other on top, eating it like a deformed sandwich. She stopped chewing when she realized every soul in the Clark household was staring at her.
“Whad?” She asked, mouth full of noodles and garlic bread.
“Allison likes to think outside the box, as artists do. She always eats spaghetti like this.” Andy half-lied, having never seen her eat spaghetti before.
Helen, being 10 and impressionable, started doing the same thing.
“Helen, stop it.” Mr. Clark demanded.
The youngest child set her garlic bread back on her plate with a frown.
“I don’t know how your parents have raised you, Addison-“
“Allison.” Andy corrected.
“-but in this house we have a thing called dignity. Use your silverware like a proper young lady.”
Little did he know that her parents haven’t raised her at all. Andy clenched his jaw as Allison set her spaghetti-sandwich back on her plate. She used her fork to scoop up the noodles, and slurped away, red sauce staining her lips and chin.
“Allie, watch,” Andy elbowed her softly.
She looked at his plate as he used his fork to swirl the noodles around, making them cling to the prongs.
“What kind of place does she live if she doesn’t know how to eat properly?” Sarah whispered not-so-quietly to Jennifer.
Allison didn’t pay much mind, quickly picking up her new skill. Soon, she gathered all her noodles at the center of her plate and started swirling and swirling until she had a ginormous heap at the end of her fork. She bit into it like a caveman eating a buffalo drumstick. Andy chuckled as she still managed to do something unexpected, as always. Helen giggled too, trying to replicate what Allison had done.
“This was really good Jennifer, thank you for dinner.” Allison used her forearm to wipe the sauce from her chin, making Mrs. Clark grimace.
“No problem.” Jennifer smiled weakly.
“Do not start licking your plate.” Andy leaned over to whisper into her ear.
“I heard artists are supposed to be eccentric, but Jesus Christ.” Sarah said crudely.
Jennifer slapped her arm.
“Artists don’t make much money either. How do you suppose you’ll make a living out there on your own?” Mr. Clark got straight to the point.
“She won’t be on her own, she’ll have me.” Andy piped up before mentally chastising himself for saying something so cheesy.
Mr. Clark stared at his son in slight disgust and disbelief.
“Let the girl answer for herself, boy. Allison, how do you expect to make a living with a piece of paper?”
Allison squirmed, once again feeling everyone’s attention shift to her.
“I dunno.” She said softly.
“What grade is she in?” He asked Andrew as if she wasn’t there.
“Same as me.” Andy challenged, waiting to see if his own father knew if he was in 11th grade.
“She needs to use her damn head and figure out what her future will be. You know already, don’t you, Andrew?”
“Yeah, because you never gave me a choice.” Andy rolled his eyes.
“I beg your pardon?”
“Here we go,” Jennifer sighed.
“You never asked if I wanted to be a wrestler, I only did it because I looked up to you and wanted to make you proud. Allison’s parents don’t care, they let her be an artist. What if I wanted to be, I don’t know, a lawyer? That makes money. But it’s not your dream so you won’t let me do it.” Andy bounced a little in his chair, fighting back his anger.
My parents wouldn’t even care if I was living on the streets, much less if I were an artist. Allison thought.
“I’m not about to have this conversation in front of a guest.” Mr. Clark said sternly.
“You’re such a hypocrite. You were ready to crap on Allison’s dream, but once things turn on you, you get defensive.” Andy stood his ground.
“Andrew…” Mr. Clark warned.
“Sweetie, please calm down.” Mrs. Clark pleaded.
“Always good-cop/bad-cop with you two. I’m tired of it. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: I don’t want to be a wrestler. I want to be a teacher. Bite me.” Andy scoffed.
“Watch your mouth young man.” Mr. Clark slammed his fist on the table.
Allison squeaked in fear, leaning away from the table. Andy took notice, and turned to comfort her.
“It’s alright, he’s not gonna hurt anyone.” He said softly.
The rest of his family gazed at the couple in a bit of confusion, before something clicked in Mrs. Clark’s brain.
“How about dessert in the living room? I have vanilla ice cream in the freezer!” She said cheerily.
“Yay ice cream!” Helen smiled.
Mr. Clark settled down. Allison and Andy went to the living room first, and thankfully his family gave them some space, even if just for a minute.
“Sorry I exploded out there. Are you alright?”
“You don’t have to stick up for me like that if it means you’ll get in trouble. I’m used to it, when my parents aren’t busy ignoring me.”
“You shouldn’t have to be.” Andy said angrily.
Allison averted her gaze.
“I thought he was going to hit you.” She said impossibly quietly, her voice trembling.
Andy was taken aback for a moment.
“Since Bender said your dads are alike I thought…” she continued.
“Oh, Allie,” Andy hugged her.
He wasn’t exactly president of the John Bender fan club, but no child deserves the wrath of John Bender Sr. He knows how much Allison looks up to Bender, he’s like a big brother to her. It hurt them both when Bender came to school with a long sleeve shirt during hot weather, or when he doesn’t give a teacher a smartass remark when they’re giving him shit.
“Here’s some ice cream, Abby!” Helen handed her a large bowl of vanilla ice cream.
“It’s Allie, and only I get to call her Allie.” Andy remarked. “God, can a soul in this house remember someone’s name?”
Allison laughed a little.
Once everyone got their bowls, Andy and Allison settled down together on the couch. The TV was on, playing some gameshow, featuring girls with big bangs and men with comically large glasses. Sarah made smoochy faces before Andy kicked her. Eventually, she fell asleep on his shoulder, leaving a trail of drool slide down his arm. Not that he minded. Screw his dad, for all Andy cared he could have Allison fall asleep next to him for the rest of his life, rich or poor, wrestler or not.