Read Online Can I Get An Amen? by Sarah Healy - Free Book Online Page A

heard the greetings from the kitchen. From their tones, I could visualize the scene as easily as if I were standing right there. My father and Ed would engage in a robust, who-has-the-firmer-grip handshake, while Lynn waited, smiling, her scarlet lips never parting. Then my father would politely turn to Lynn and kiss her chivalrously on the cheek, helping her off with her jacket before hanging it in the foyer closet, which my mother had just straightened. I stood as they entered the room but let my mother rush to greet them first. After she complimented Lynn on her shoes, classic Ferragamo flats, she turned to me. “And you remember our daughter, Ellen,” she said in her most exaggerated southern drawl, cueing me to follow suit and charm the Arnolds.
    “Mrs. Arnold,” I said, extending my hand. “So lovely to see you again.”
    “Hello, Ellen dear,” replied Mrs. Arnold with practiced warmth. “What a pleasant surprise.” She was plumper than my mother, with full breasts and overly coiffed anchorwoman hair.
    Mr. Arnold then turned on his campaign-trail smile and, like a politician, attempted to put the single fact he knew about me to good use. “How’s Boston?”
    I saw my father shift uncomfortably, but I flashed a winning,easy smile. “Well, I actually returned to the New Jersey area a couple of months ago, so I may need to get back to you on that.” Recognition clicked on Mrs. Arnold’s face and she shot her husband a discreet look, wordlessly instructing him to drop all talk of Boston.
    “Can I get you a drink?” my mother offered.
    “Thank you, Patty. I’d just love a glass of ice water,” answered Lynn.
    My father and Ed immediately stepped off to the sidelines and stood shoulder to shoulder holding their scotches, easing in with talk of football. I stood with my mother, while Lynn regaled her with the trials and tribulations of planning the various charity events that were coming up during the busy holiday season.
    “Every year, it just seems to start earlier and earlier,” sighed Lynn.
    “Isn’t that the truth?” agreed my mother. “Why, half the stores in town already have their Christmas decorations up and it isn’t even Halloween!” Both women shook their heads as if the four horsemen of the apocalypse were going to arrive just after Labor Day, pulling a tinsel-festooned sleigh.
    After studiously ignoring the spread of food for a polite interval, my father and Ed finally began slicing off great hunks of oozy cheese and dunking fat shrimp into horseradish-flecked cocktail sauce. They sipped their drinks a little more heartily, their voices got a bit louder, and Lynn finally made herself a spritzer. Fearful of being stranded with Lynn while my mother attended to dinner, I graciously offered to plate the soup. “Why, thank you, darlin’,” gushed my mother, playing up the happy family for the Arnolds.
    “Ed,” began my father, when we were finally seated around the table, “would you lead us in prayer?” We formally held hands and bowed our heads. Though we always said grace before a meal, I thought this was a bit much.
    Ed said a perfectly nice prayer and Lynn looked adoringly at her husband. She took a dainty slurp of her soup. “Patty, this is absolutely delicious; you
must
give me the recipe.”
    “I’ll write it down for you, Lynn,” said my mother. “It really is so simple.” This was a lie. I had seen her painstakingly remove the meat from the lobster and boil the shells to make the stock.
    We had just finished clearing the soup plates and getting ready for the second course when I heard Kat’s voice call from the foyer, “Elle? You up there?”
    Fleeting panic washed over my mother’s face. Kat never dropped by unexpectedly, and though she had mentioned that she would check up on me later, I never imagined that it would be in person. My parents had no choice but to pretend that theirs and Kat’s relationship was placid and unstrained, that the long-standing issues and