WHO: Red; as well as his parents and grandfather. WHAT:Nathalie takes forever to start a narrative Some warm family moments. Or something WHEN: BACKDATED to Christmas Hols. WHERE: Allam's (Red's grandfather's) house. In Germany. (So pretend the are speaking in German)
Dinner had done its best to try and be an awkward affair. Inexplicably, and in the last minute, his parents had invited themselves over for Christmas dinner. He rarely saw them this time of year. He never really cared to wonder why. Maybe they had places to be where it mattered to people that they were around. Maybe they decided to, in the name of holiday spirit, stop foisting their presence on his limited good-will. Whatever the reason, it was well known that Christmas with his parents only happened when his aunt was in the country. A cluelessly, jovial woman who insisted that proximity made the heart grow fonder. Everyone humoured her because she never stayed around long enough to regularly apply that policy. At least, that was why Red humoured her.
That and because it made his grandfather happy. The man was sentimental. It was partially why Red continued with Christmas dinners in the first place. A time for him and his granddad to catch up; and for Allman to run a little nostalgic. There was barely any more room at the table for much else. Memories tended to fill the space. Mostly in a good, if insistent, way. But occasionally they were bittersweet: such as memories of his grandmother and his grandfather’s eyes when he talked about her.
The last thing the time needed was unwanted ‘remember whens’. Yet that was what his parents brought with their unwanted presence, as if their half complete reminiscence could turn his opinion because of the time of year.
Red responded to their intrusion as he always did; briefly and with an inscrutable cadence. The same way he answered most anyone when he didn’t feel like answering questions. It was as bland and uninviting as commenting on foggy weather, as the saying went. He asked questions, less because he cared but because it kept them talking. And it satisfied his grandfather.
Red couldn’t promise that he would ever give them the proper chance his grandfather wanted. However, he could promise not to be rude to them. It was hard to be truly rude when all you felt was indifference. Or all you were determined to feel.
When dinner was over and they hadn’t left, Red excused himself to wash the dishes a little sooner than earlier. It was less of an escape and more of a calculated retreat.
His father barely waited five minutes before he followed Red into the kitchen.
“Your mother and I think it would be a good idea for you to move in with us.” He made his announcement like a proclamation.
Red continued rubbing the cloth across the dish. A mild sense of amusement filled him as he watched as a dark red stain drained away with the bubbles. It was at the undercurrent of nervousness he knew his father was probably denying to himself. Red wondered what the older man had to feel nervous about. Refusal was a sure thing. There really was no other response. At least, at seventeen his response would more than likely be amiable than the denial Red’d given at age eleven - the last time his parents had asked him.
It was also at the red stain still lingering on the sink. Red’s amusement. However, cranberry sauce never failed to be amusing to him. His grandmother never failed to tease his grandfather over his love of it.
He always seemed to remember her more clearly during Christmas. Likely due to his grandfather’s talks.
“Don’t you have anything to say?” Kunle demanded.
Red paused and turned to look at his father. The ‘no’ burning at the tip of his tongue. “Why?” He decided he was curious; his father was typically a little more patient than expressing agitation after a brief pause.
“We think it would be for the best.” He then blew out a harsh breath through his nose and his jaw worked before he continued. It was likely his mother’s idea. Kunle wasn’t one who had an open policy. He stated ideas and people were meant to follow through. His motivations were his own. “Your grandfather is growing older in age and -”
“No.” Unsurprisingly that had been easy to say.
“If you think we are giving you an option, you are wrong. This is not a matter of opinion. You will be moving in with us when you return for Christmas holidays. Before you know, it will be unwise for you to live alone with your grandfather.”
Red took a steadying breath, in slowly through the nose before enunciating, unmoved by the slight raised command in his father’s tone, “I am seventeen.” It was stated in lieu of: ‘You should’ve started off less like it was a matter of opinion in the first place’ or ‘And where does he fall in this plan?’
“Wha - You are still a - our son.” There was no doubt that Kunle had been about to say ‘still a child’.
“Hm.”
“Look at me when I am talking to you.” Kunle took a step forward when Red’s attention went back to the dishes.
“Kunle.” Francisca’s words were barely louder a supplication, a whisper; however, it was clear his mother left no room for argument by the way his father stopped, frowned, and looked implacable after a moment. “We wish you would consider it, Redford. At least take some days to -”
“I feel it is getting late Cisca.” Her father, his grandfather stated, and Red wondered at his easy tone. He wondered if Allman knew anything of what Kunle suggested, and the thought was enough to cause his insides to twist - heavier with frustration and more anger, now at Kunle’s audacity. To come to a man’s house and make plans for him behind his back as if any amount of age would suddenly turn Allman into a fool. Even without his wits his grandfather was a smarter man than his father - Red finally inhaled that breath, just as long as the one he previously let out. He stopped his thoughts. Because he wasn’t eleven anymore (it wasn’t an argument of who was the better male in his life, even if Kunle might still believe there was a running). And because it didn’t bear thinking.
“Men growing older in age need their sleep.”
Red looked up sharply at his grandfather and Allman winked. It was all Red could do to hold onto the grin that wanted to burst free.