Prodigal

~3.13~

“Hope you like Panda Express™.” Dad said to Jeffery as we sat down to dinner.

“Of course.” Jeffery said back, trying to be super respectful but was clearly nervous.

“Classy, Dad.” I said. “Nothing says we're suburban white people like eating Panda Express on real plates at a dinner table.”

“So what are your intentions?” Dad asked as we all started dishing up.

Jeffery looked like a deer in the headlights.

“Dad, we’re not getting married.” I said.

“Well, you better not get her pregnant.” Dad added on.

I heard Jeffery’s fork drop and hit the plate while my I immediately face planted my forehead on the table.

“Father, I can safely say that that probably won’t happen.” I said, frustratingly exasperated.

After an awkward silence, Jeffery attempted to steer the conversation away form himself. “How was everyone’s day?” He asked.

“The pharmacy called today, Emelia.” Dad said to me. “Your Antiandrogen is in.”

“DAD!” I grinded through my teeth, not being able to believe that he said that.

“What’s Antiandrogen?” Jeffery asked.

“Testosterone blockers.” Dad answered.

And for the second time in 90 seconds, I face planted my forehead on the table.

This was officially the worst dinner of my life that, and that's saying something considering that this dinner consisted of orange chicken.

Notes

Panda Express™ orange chicken is life tbh.

I know I know it's been too long I'm sorry

How are y'all?