My dad came out on the porch and called me inside. He shook my hand and clasped my shoulder, bringing me into a hug. 

“Why are you hiding out here, son? And where’s your brother?”

“I got kicked out of the kitchen,” I said. “He went around back.”

“Ah, him and that smoking.” He opened the door for us. “That’s one thing you didn’t pick up from those people you live around now.”

My fork-tongued brother didn’t fall far from the venomous tree. Fortunately, my mom met us in the living room and saved me from replying. We walked to the kitchen, and everyone was circling the stove—Daniel included—piling their plates with chicken and dumplings and headed to the dining room. I hung back and got to the table last, ensuring I got a seat next to Nanny. 

Unfortunately, this sat me across from Daniel. He stole glances at me every time my dad talked, giving me an excuse to keep my head down or count the china in the curio—one of the few times I wished he’d start up one of his phony stories.

“So, Darzsa, how’s work going?” my Nanny asked. “Do you still work at...what’s the name of that shop?”

I set my fork down and cleared my throat. I expected only her to care about my answer, but my entire family chose the worst time to take an interest in my life. “The Thready Bee. Yes, I’m still there. I—there’s a chance we might get a contract with RGE.”

“Oh, Natty,” Nanny patted my hand, “that’s great. I’m so proud of you.”

“A contract. What all does that mean?” my mom asked.

The excitement in my mother’s voice almost made up for all the times she tried to convince me not to move and get a factory job instead. Their disapproval didn’t dissuade me but them on my side made things—and these dinners—easier.

“We’d supply the clothing for the pictures, and I’d design a lot of them.” Let’s face it, it would be all of them. “If it goes through. I’d even get to see the studio.”

“Let us know which films so we can go to see them,” Pops said. “My grandson making a name for himself. I guess you don’t need that five.”

“Oh, Phenie, do you remember when Natty was little, and he’d strut around the house in your pearls,” Nanny said. “He refused to take them off when he watched me sew.”

My dad’s knife screeched when it sliced his plate, and my mom’s congratulatory expression ebbed with the changing tide of this conversation. “Yes, I remember,” she said.

“I told Natty, ‘people will always need clothes.’ He sure kept me going when I took another job, hemming and cutting out patterns for me. And that little smock he wore with the buttons—”

“A well-whooped ass put a stop to all of that,” my father spoke from the end of the table. 

“Lee, hush. Lord knows we needed a bit of fun.” Nanny kissed me on the cheek and tussled the hair at my nape. “I’m happy for you.”

My dad hardly defied his mother-in-law, but unspoken loathing escaped between his gnashing chews. Long after the Depression, he managed to deprive me of self-expression, and the wounds of misplaced guilt only began to fade. I didn’t touch a single piece of jewelry until I left this house, never daring to wear anything too revealing. 

“RGE,” Daniel said, his voice in the dead air buffeting my ears. “They film some cool flicks there. Isn’t that where Mathieu Michel is contracted?”

Miles away, and Mathieu still managed to give me grief. “I’m not sure.”

Another lie. Something else to keep up with, and by the smirk on Daniel’s face, another thing for him to dangle in front of me. 

“Guess you haven’t made that much of a name if you haven’t run into him,” Daniel said. “He’s a real talent. “That guy’s going places. Shame you haven’t met him yet.”

“I’m sure there are plenty of people I haven’t met yet. It’s a big city.”

“Yea, but if you get to work with that studio, I’m sure you’ll run into him. Might be able to make him a suit. I’m sure you’d like—ouch.”

I kicked Daniel under the table swiftly enough not to disturb everyone eating. Sitting in front of him had one advantage. “I doubt he’d be high on my list if all of this goes through.”

“You’d be good not to anyway,” my dad once more interjected. “You know how those actor types are, and these aren’t in the papers, but I’ve heard some things about that Michel. Probably not even his real last name.”

I wrung my napkin in my hands. Rumors about Mathieu’s private life went nowhere fast, but my dad could publish an encyclopedia on the celebrity gossip he attained since I moved. 

Daniel listed off the ads and roles Mathieu was in, each one riling my father up. The conversation moved from Mathieu and onto the perils of Hollywood. 

“If you’re going to rub elbows with these types, Darzsa, you stay away from those parties these actors and producers throw. I’ve read about them—bunch of dope fiends doing God knows what,” Dad proclaimed. “Don’t need you getting influenced.”

“Darzsa’s probably not into the soc’s scene,” Daniel said. “I bet you sit at home and knit sweaters, maybe try on—shit.”

Mama pointed her fork at Daniel. “Language.” 

“Let the boy have some fun; he’s got a good head on his shoulders,” Pops chimed in. “Don’t think me and Clara didn’t know about you two sneaking off to those speakeasies. Next thing you know, Daniel was here.”

My grandparents were my saving grace at our get-togethers, but there were more people like my brother and father in the world, and they wouldn’t always be around to shield me. I usually grit my teeth and bore it, but I was in a defiant mood today. Maybe it was the bowtie. “Weren’t those illegal?”

Pops’ laughter boomed in agreement, but my parents were less amused. Daniel’s leg swung to return the two kicks I gave him, but I tucked my feet behind the chair legs.

 

“Things were different back then, Darzsa.” My mom rearranged the cutlery on her empty plate. “Who wasn’t sneaking into those bars and tasting a little moonshine. I’m sure Ma and Pops had some bottles, too,” she jested.

My mom’s joke dispersed the cloud of tension at the table, but hazy animosity still rolled from the head seat. Lee Blake wasn’t keen on being challenged—the forbidden fruit that I sadly inherited from him. 

“Yea, but I’m sure whatever went on was crazier than these Hollywood parties,” I said.  

“Son,” my dad made eye contact with me for the first time, “people selling their bodies for a chunk of change and slice of fame—I’ve read about it—that’s what should be illegal. They don’t know about real sacrifice or getting their hands dirty to survive despite every odd against them.”

“Lee, that’s enough,” my mom said.

“Years I’ve worked, just like my father and his before, to provide for my family. Struggled to make ends meet to keep a roof over our head and food on the table because we deserve to be here—regardless of what other people in this country think. That’s what I give to you and your brother, what he fought for.” He jabbed his finger into the table, veins protruding from his hand. “It’s what the men in our family are built for, Darzsa, not getting in front of a camera or playing dress up like some fairy.”   

“Lee Blake.” Tears streamed down my mother’s face, dotting her yellow dress. She grabbed her plate and my dad’s with wobbling hands and stood. “Will you excuse us?” 

He protested, but my mom was the only person who held a candle to putting my dad in his place. One look, and he carried their dishes to the kitchen and obediently followed his wife to their bedroom. No one so much as blinked too loud until a slam down the hall reanimated everyone. Nanny and Pops commenced clean-up duty, leaving Daniel and me at the table.

I released my napkin, and my knuckles regained color, fingers numb like the forgotten burn from holding my breath. Insults like my father’s weren’t new to me, but they punctured the bubble I created when I was alone, with Lou, or at the club. 

Daniel relieved our strained silence and said, “Nice going, Darzsa,” before leaving out the back door. 

With dinner ruined and ending somehow only slightly worse than I anticipated, I offered to wash my own dishes since the chances of further criticism were null.

“Oh, Natty,” Nanny said. “Your father was just talking, don’t pay it any mind.” 

I swallowed hard, unable to get one more lie out, so I patted her arm. “I have a long day tomorrow, so I should get going.”

“Take some with you. That way, you don’t have to worry about dinner tomorrow.”

She packed up a few helpings in Tupperware and the untouched dessert. I hugged Nanny and Pops and told them to say goodbye for me. 

“Call when you get home,” she said.

“I will.”

I backed out of the driveway, thankful for the long ride home but regretting how much it gave me time to think. My dad only had one son he was proud of, and it would never be me.