Kristen hated family backyard barbecues. Hated them. They were always her parents’ friends from work or church standing around talking football, baseball, or gossiping about someone not there that Kristen didn’t know.
But she was expected to be there. She lived in their house so they treated her like she was still a teenager: their house, their rules. And that meant being there when guests were present. She had a somewhat normal corporate job these days but still didn’t have her own car. So she couldn’t use work as an excuse, and they weren’t going to let her borrow the keys. Being a young woman, out of college, in this economy, was the worst.
She clutched her beer and sat in the corner of the patio on the far side of the table spread with food, and hoped everyone would ignore her. But
