As Carl's words hung in the air, I felt a sense of resignation wash over me. I gazed out the window, hoping that the conversation would somehow find its end, one way or another. Agreeing with whatever Carl was saying seemed like the easiest way to put an end to it.
Unable to hold my silence any longer, I finally mustered the courage to voice my complaint. "You didn't inform me he'd be joining us for lunch," I directed my frustration towards Carl, hoping to divert the conversation to a more palatable topic. Discussing a man like Arthur seemed far more preferable than delving into my own complicated past with my parents. It wasn't that there was anything inherently wrong with them, but it was me and my unpleasant history that I didn't want to confront right now. The thought of sharing a meal and a table with a man whose very presence I could hardly stand was unsettling.
Confusion etched across Carl's face as he asked, "Who?"
