“You sit down this instance,” my dad yelled at David, his voice more threatening than I’d ever heard.

“Your mother has worked very hard to put this dinner on the table and all of you will stay here and finish

your meal.”

David picked up his chair and sat down again. He was looking pale. We were all afraid of my dad

when he used this tone of voice. Juliette’s hands were trembling and Christine had started to cry softly.

The twins didn’t dare to say anything. They just stared at us like we were some alien life form come to

destroy the planet. Brad put his hand on Christine’s arm. I looked at David. I could see that he was

fighting back his tears too.

“I’m sure Michael didn’t mean what he said,” he tried. “We are all just stressed about losing this case.”

“Brad’s right,” I said. “I was just really pissed that we lost the case. I’m sorry.”

“We won’t talk about it anymore,” my dad said in a stern voice, ending the conversation. David looked

down at his plate. He was so angry and embarrassed that he didn’t want to look at any of us anymore, not

even the twins.

Later, before he left, I wanted to apologize to him but I was too late. He was talking to Christine in the

hallway. “I’m not going to tell you anything about my personal life anymore,” he told Christine.

“Don’t say that,” Christine pleaded. “Please don’t leave while being angry with me.”

“I’m not angry at you,” he said. “I’m angry at myself for always believing that I can make dad and

Michael be proud of me. But they clearly don’t even like me. I shouldn’t come to dinner anymore.”

“I’m sorry I told Michael,” she cried. “But I worry about you and so does he.”

“Michael doesn’t give a fuck about me,” David said.

“Don’t say that,” I said. David looked startled. Christine rushed away from us and closed the door to

the hallway.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “What I said was way out of line.” I swallowed down the lump in my throat.

“It sounded like you meant it,” David said. “Is that really what you think? That I’m fucking around? That

I throw myself at just any guy I meet? That’s what you did for years, do you remember?” He sounded

bitter. “What do you expect me to do? Be celibate and work myself to death like you are trying to do

now?”

“I worry about you David, this fucking around thing is nothing like you. I just want you to be happy,” I

said. I reached to touch his arm.

“You don’t mean that,” he said and backed away from me. Then he left. He slammed the door behind

him and I heard his car backing away on the driveway.

“You have to go after him,” Christine told me when I came in to the living room again. She was close to

tears. “Why do you always have to say shit like that Michael?! I know you love David.”

David did nothing but work in the weeks following that disastrous dinner. He was at the office even

earlier than I was and sometimes he stayed until midnight. He did come for all our Sunday dinners but he

barely talked to me during those days. He helped Juliette in the kitchen or played video games with the

twins. He tried to be as normal and lighthearted as he possibly could for Juliette’s sake but I know it was

all show. He really loved his mom and he didn’t want to cause fights at the dinner table or worry her.

Still, I couldn’t help but make the situation even worse.

At a conference that we’d attended my dad had heard some of the other lawyers make a remark about

David’s longish hair. Everybody at our firm was dressed impeccably and David kind of stood out with

his unruly curly hair that was always too long. When we were having dinner my dad told David that he

might want to follow my example and get a nice haircut.

“I like my hair like this,” David said. “Nobody has ever said anything about my haircut.”

“They haven’t told you but everybody thinks that you look sloppy,” I told him harsher than I’d intended.

“I thought you always liked my hair just fine like this,” David said sharply.

“It looks inappropriate, just like dad said,” I told him. My mouth tasted of ash. Why did I say shit like

this without even meaning it? How many times had I smelled that hair, combed through it with my hands,

even tasted it in my mouth when I was dry fucking him through his shorts in my bed?

“You can’t walk in to a courtroom looking like a messy student anymore,” I continued.

“Okay, I’ll get a haircut,” he just said and continued eating his dinner. I didn’t think anything of that

conversation all week until the next weekend.

Brad, Christine and me were talking before dinner the next Sunday when David walked in. When I

looked up at him it was as if a knife had been plunged in my chest. He’d cut off all of his beautiful long

hair and was wearing a razor short new hairdo.

“What have you done?” I cried out. Brad and Christine looked at me disproving. Why could I never

keep my big mouth shut?

“Does it look more appropriate?” David asked me in a flat voice. My dad walked in and he looked at

David approvingly. “It looks much better like this,” he said while he folded out his Sunday paper and

started reading.

“It looks awful! Who cut it like this? You look like you’ve been prepped for surgery,” I blurted out.

“Fuck you Michael! You are the one who told me to cut it in the first place!” My dad looked up from his

paper. “The both of you are not starting again, are you?” David shook his head warily. Christine and Brad

were looking in horror at him as well. We all knew that he’d cut his hair like this to punish me for what

I’d said last week. Juliette walked out of the kitchen when she heard us talking. She looked at David and

blinked. “Baby it looks very neat,” she said. I could hear in her voice that she hated his new look too.

When we sat down for dinner I couldn’t help but stare at David’s head the whole time. You could see

his scalp underneath the razor short hair. He looked so terrible, I felt like crying during desert. This was

entirely my fault. I should never have pushed him like this. I think he knew that I was staring at him

because he didn’t look up once in my direction.

After desert I quickly got up and walked outside to get some air. I stood outside for a while, my back

against the brick wall. No matter how hard I tried to keep my calm, I still felt like crying. Tears started to

well up and I couldn’t stop myself from sobbing. I bit my fist to keep myself from making a sound. David

walked outside too and stood next to me, his back against the wall too. “You told me to cut my hair

yourself,” he said in an accusing tone. Then he looked at me and saw the tears. I tried to look away from

him. I really didn’t want him to see me break down like this. “Why are you crying?” he asked softly.

“You look like you have a fucking terminal disease,” I said. “I should have kept my fucking mouth

shut.”

“Yeah you should have,” he replied. He stroked my arm, “Please don’t cry, it’ll grow back.” I let out a

strangled sob. Not just because of the hair but more because I felt like such a jerk.

“I loved your hair,” I said while I stroked my hand past his head. “I really loved your hair. I loved to

bury my face in it; it always smelled so nice. You looked so great with it. Why did you have to listen to

me? You knew I didn’t mean it!”

“Yeah I knew, but maybe this way you’ll think again before you insult me at the dinner table next time,”

he said.

“I’m so sorry,” I whispered.

“I know, that was the intention,” David sighed. I held his head in my two hands and looked in to his

eyes. I was almost drowning in his dark grey gaze. “Things have been so fucked up between us lately,” I