That weird feeling that something's not quite right

I listen as they talk, but I can't quite figure out what they're talking about. All I understand is that there's more to it than meets the eye.

“Do something together,” Dirk said. That sounds like a family outing or a trip to the zoo. Totally boring and stuffy. So why does Dad seem so upset about it?

I have to find out what's going on here.

And just to be clear: there's no way I'm spending my weekend hanging out with the old folks. That's not my idea of fun. I don't have a regular clique, but I have enough friends to go out with on a short notice. One or two chat messages and I know which club we can meet at or where the next private party is happening.

Outwardly, I follow the conversation attentively, but my thoughts wander. When I hear my name, I startle.

“Sina? I asked what you feel like doing. Do you already have plans for the weekend?”

Dirk looks at me, half amused, half lurking. What did I miss? I get the uneasy feeling that he's setting a trap for me. But I don't see the catch. Nevertheless, I decide to be cautious and respond evasively.

“No idea yet.”

I can see that this answer isn't enough for him. Before he can press further, Mom shows up. She's wearing a long dress—rather unusual for her—and her hair is still damp from washing. She heads for the seating area, but stops when she sees Dirk and me sitting next to each other on the sofa.

“Um. I'll be with you in a minute, but I have something to do in the kitchen. Sina, will you please come along and help me?”

“I can help you,” Dad offers, half rising.

Mom's expression becomes almost panicked and she rejects his offer with a decisive gesture.

“No, no. You two boys can stay here and continue talking about sports. The kitchen is a woman's domain.”

Huh? I don't recognize her like this. Usually, she insists that he do his fair share of the housework. I almost get the impression that in the short time we haven't seen each other, she has mutated into a tradwife. That can't be.

She looks at me expectantly and I realize that this isn't about kitchen work. Apparently, she wants to be alone with me. Fine. Maybe then I'll find out what's going on.

I follow her. At the door, I glance back briefly. Dirk's gaze is fixed on my back, the corner of his mouth turned up. Dad looks sheepishly and silently at his beer bottle. Shaking my head, I enter the kitchen.

Mom is busy with all sorts of things without really accomplishing anything. Something is bothering her, that's obvious. Talk to me!

I grab her arm. She freezes as if she's startled. She deliberately places the kitchen towel she's holding on the counter.

“Well, Sina...”

She turns around to face me. Her eyes widen, and the rest of her sentence remains unspoken. She doesn't look at me, but past me.

He's standing right behind me, isn't he?

Dirk leans casually in the doorway, his feet crossed.

“Well, you two beauties. Are you making something delicious to eat?”

Neither of us answers. He accepts this with a smile and continues.

"Thomas and I have been thinking about how we're going to sort out sleeping arrangements. After all, there are four of us and only three beds. That's why I'm sleeping on the couch in the living room.“

Mom opens her mouth. He raises his hand to stop her from objecting.

”No problem at all. It's only for a few nights. Besides, I don't want to be a burden to you. It's Sina's room and she should sleep in her own bed.

Where she won't be disturbed."

There's a strange undertone to his voice. And what's with the short pause before the last sentence?

Mom snaps out of her shock.

“I'll quickly make the bed.”

She pushes past Dirk, who is blocking half the doorway, and hurries away.

“I'll come with you,” I call after her.