News at Dinner

Every Saturday evening, the family gathered around the table for dinner. It was almost the only time when everyone was expected to be home. Their lives were so busy that sharing meals together during the week was nearly impossible, so these dinners had become a cherished ritual, one where everyone made a conscious effort to attend. Over time, the tradition grew beyond the family itself. Friends and acquaintances were often invited, until the Saturday dinners became well known for their warmth, laughter, and sense of belonging. This Saturday, however, was different. There was a reason to celebrate. David was marking Lyanne’s return after a year spent volunteering abroad, as well as the remarkable news that she had been offered a teaching position in public health at the university. The house was fuller than usual; the table crowded with familiar faces. It was Lyanne’s homecoming, an evening meant to overflow with stories, playful teasing, and the collective relief that she was finally home safe. Their friends knew how difficult the past year had been for David while Lyanne was away, even though he had never spoken of it openly. He had struggled to accept her obsession with working as a nurse in the field. To him, it felt reckless, an irresponsible adventure in a war-torn country. “The whole bloody region is a time bomb,” he had once confided to Tom, the rare moment when David let his carefully guarded composure slip. David welcomed Lyanne back into his life as though she had never left. A year earlier, when she had told him of her decision to go abroad, their relationship had been at its lowest point, teetering on the edge of ending. She had argued that the time apart would allow her to reflect on their future and give him space to evaluate the relationship as well. Lyanne’s return was not a surprise in itself, but many believed the couple had moved on separately. What shocked everyone was how seamlessly she had moved back into David’s home, as if the year away had been nothing more than an overnight trip. Anne, David’s daughter, struggled to understand her father’s openness. Lyanne’s return had shifted their own relationship, and Anne felt unsettled by the change. Lyanne had lost interest in the solidarity movement, something that, in Anne’s mind, had once defined her entire personality. As friends began to arrive, it was Anne who greeted them at the door. Among them were Tom and Rosse, long-time friends and colleagues of David; Danny and Ginne, new friends from the choir Lyanne had joined since her return; and, of course, Jeff and John, or as David affectionately called them, “the JJ couple,” friends since childhood. Each person took their place around the oval table as if guided by an unspoken agreement. When the food was laid out, Tom stood and began pouring wine, a familiar ritual he performed at every gathering, a small act of continuity in moments both joyful and difficult. The table was barely large enough to accommodate everyone. Passing dishes back and forth became a source of amusement, complicated by cramped space and constant compliments to the cook. The atmosphere was lively, warm, exactly as expected. Tom reached for Lyanne’s glass to pour her wine. She stopped him. She placed her left hand gently but firmly over the glass. “No,” she said softly, then took a breath. “I’m pregnant.” The words shattered the festive mood and were followed by absolute silence, the kind so thick it felt as though it could be cut with a knife. The effect was immediate and electric, like a bucket of cold water thrown across the table. David froze; his fork suspended halfway to his mouth. Every face turned toward Lyanne, shock written plainly across their expressions. Rosse leapt from her chair and wrapped Lyanne in an impulsive embrace, laughing and crying at once. Tom stood awkwardly beside them, still holding the bottle of wine, unsure whether to speak, smile, or step away. Catching sight of David’s face, pale, unreadable, Tom quietly returned to his seat without a word. David could not take his eyes off Lyanne. Since her return from abroad, she had moved back in with him as though the year apart had never existed. He had respected her silence, her refusal to speak about what she had seen or how it had changed her. He hadn’t pressed her about the subtle but undeniable shift in her worldview, the way a once fiercely committed political activist now seemed more cautious, more conventional. But this revelation was something else entirely. And nothing at that table would ever feel the same again. “How could she be pregnant?” was the first thought that slammed into his mind. “And how could she know so soon?” Almost against his will, he began counting days, weeks, replaying timelines in his head. She had only been back for barely a month. Their relationship had not exactly been rekindled with passion, not that it ever truly had been. The thoughts piled up, relentless and disorienting, pouring over him like water over a waterfall. “Our relationship has always been comfortable,” his mind insisted, “predictable, safe.” He remembered Lyanne once describing it with a wry smile, comparing it to a song from an old movie. “What was the name? ‘Arrivederci Roma’ no, no, that’s the song the movie is what? Why can’t I remember the movie’s name and why is this bothering me not remembering the movie’s name?” The melody suddenly began looping in his head like a broken record. No matter how hard he tried to push it away, it kept playing, sung in the unmistakable voice of Dean Martin. He felt stupid. Lost in that moment of distraction, David suddenly blurted out, far louder than he intended, “What the fuck!” For a split second there was stunned silence. Then everyone at the table, except Lyanne and Anne, burst out laughing. As if on cue, Tom and Rosse chimed in together, smiling and Tom said: “Strong reaction pal.” John, who had known David since childhood and could read his silences as well as his outbursts, sensed the storm of thoughts still raging behind his friend’s eyes. He leaned toward Jeff and murmured that they should probably leave. Before they could rise, Lyanne interjected. She insisted they stay and finish the meal. There would be time later, she said gently but unmistakably, for her and David to talk about what they needed to talk about. The dinner continued with an uncomfortable silence interrupted by the request to pass plates or beverages to each other. At one point food grew cold on the plates as the laughter faded, replaced once more by a quieter, heavier awareness: something fundamental had shifted at that table, and none of them knew what shape the evening was going to take. The evening verily began…