As the denouement of this particular episode came to a close, they kissed and made up—also typical (and gross)—and once again remembered I was sitting at the same table. I didn’t mind their episodes entirely—it limited the amount of time they were focused on me, at least.

Unfortunately, Vicki focused on me now and her face ballooned in excitement. My jaw halted mid-chew, my defensive shield rising. “Daya! Are you free? Next Thursday? You could have my ticket!” She turned back to Priam, his hand still in hers. “Wouldn’t that be a capital S Solution, darling?”

Priam didn’t look quite as certain. “Well… it’s Pinter, Vicki. He might be a little… highbrow for someone so young, don’t you think?”

Priam wasn’t really worried about my capacity to understand Pinter. He and Vicki loved forcing me to experience arts and culture. He was freaking out at the thought of being alone with me for three hours. And I got it. I didn’t really want to sit around watching some boring play with him for three hours either.

Both Vicki and Priam preferred dealing with me as a tag team. The few occasions I’d had to spend time alone with either of them, we’d filled it awkwardly—trying to find some common ground.

But we’d failed. Every. Time.

I took another bite of my apple and sputtered my reply through a mess of pulp, because I knew it drove them nuts. “I’m busy that night. Sorry.” A piece of apple flopped to the table.

Priam’s chest rose and fell in relief while Vicki stared at the fallen apple, a hint of repulsion skimming her mouth.

When I made to leave the table, taking the rest of my apple and a piece of toast to go, Vicki shook the mild disgust from her face and thrust out her hand in my direction without actually touching me (she knew better). “Daya, maybe we could spend some time together”—she glanced reassuringly at Priam—“the three of us, this weekend? I feel like we never see you!”

Precisely. “Uh, maybe. I have lots of homework and some other stuff, though, so I’ll have to see. Can I let you know later?”

They shared a quick look—always a tag team—and Priam said, “Of course, Daya. Of course. We’ll just be waiting in the wings for your grand entrance!” He let out a fluttering laugh at his own joke, and Vicki chimed in with her own tinkling chuckle.

I had to will the judgment off my face. “Cool,” I replied, and escaped stage left like a pro.

Even before I had to live with them, I’d grown weary of Priam and Vicki. My dad was weary of them, and I took that as a sign that I should be too.