My stomach dropped, and cold sweat broke out down my back.
For some reason, in that moment, I was suddenly afraid.
Afraid my parents would turn on me too, the way the others had—
But they stepped right in front of me. "Did what, exactly?"
"All Miles did was stir-fry a plate of greens with lard. What's with the dramatics? What are you actually trying to pull here?"
"Who doesn't cook their greens with lard?"
Hearing them, I felt the breath come back into me.
My parents hadn't been affected. They were on my side.
Just like that I had my footing back, and I shot back, fuming:
"Exactly! All I did was stir-fry some greens in lard! What did I do wrong?"
"And you went crazy on me, wanting to—"
I never finished. A slap landed across my face, hot and vicious.
Before I could even register it, my mother's voice exploded:
"What? Lard?!"
"Miles Gilbert, how did I give birth to a shameless animal like you!"
The blow left me stunned, ears ringing.
I lifted my head and ran straight into my parents' disgust.
My mother jabbed a finger at my face, screaming:
"Animal! How can you be this twisted! You actually dared to use lard!"
"Get out. Get out of this house right now. We don't have a son like you!"
I just stood there, dazed, staring at them, breaking apart inside.
"Mom, Dad, what's wrong with you?"
"What's so wrong with lard? Why are you turning on me too?"
I looked at my mother, helpless. "Mom, did you forget? You're the one who taught me to stir-fry greens in lard!"
"The lard at the diner—we rendered it together, from slab fat we bought at the farmers' market."
"You always said lard makes greens taste the best, that home cooking is supposed to taste like that. Have you forgotten all of it?"
But she kicked me away, her eyes full of revulsion.
"I taught you? You're saying I taught you to poison people?"
"Miles Gilbert, every word out of your mouth is a lie. You've lost every shred of conscience!"
And right there, she and my father came out backing Marian's divorce—and saying I should walk away with nothing.
It hit me like a thunderclap. I stared at them, unable to believe it.
"Marian, what did you do to my parents? Now even they're on your side?"
I shouted the question, and my father kicked me to the floor.
"Animal, you're the one who pulled this rotten stunt, and you've got the nerve to blame Marian?"
"If you know what's good for you, sign the papers and stop embarrassing us!"
Everything went blank, one roaring blank.
My whole life they had loved me, doted on me,
and now, over a little lard, they wanted to cut all ties?
I left the house like a ghost,
and by the time I came back to myself, I was standing at the door of the diner.
What I saw made the world go dark.
The tables and chairs were smashed to pieces, even the sign hanging by a thread.
Three years of work, everything I'd built, was nothing but rubble now.
Before I could take it in, the crowd surged at me like they'd lost their minds.
"That's him! The animal who cooks with lard!"
"You piece of garbage, why aren't you dead yet!"
Insults came at me from every side, packed so tight I could barely stay on my feet.
A few of the shop owners nearby sneered at me too:
"Get lost. Don't dirty our street!"
I kept trying to explain. "I didn't do anything! Why are you treating me like this!"
But no one was listening. Someone hurled a beer bottle.
It cracked against my forehead, and blood came pouring down.
