“It is all about the footwork, Dad,” Tyler said, using his fork to point toward the kitchen doors. “You have to know how to pivot without losing your balance on the turf.”
He took a large helping of potatoes, his movements smooth and athletic. He knew exactly how to command the space at the table, leaving the rest of us to squeeze into the corners.
He looked across the table at me, his eyes gleaming under the low light as he tapped his college ring against the side of his water glass.
“Not like Olivia,” Tyler said, raising his voice so it bounced off the high, dark ceiling of the dining room. “Remember when she tried to ride that vintage red bicycle with the rusted chain down the gravel driveway?”
My fork hit the edge of my plate with a sharp chime that made Susan look up.
“The chain snapped, Tyler,” I said, my voice shaking slightly as I tried to keep it even. “I did not just fall.”
“You took out the entire side of the china cabinet when you stumbled into the dining room afterward,” Tyler said, turning to Robert with a wide, mocking smile. “She does this for sympathy, Dad.”
