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Authors: T. Greenwood
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plates.
“You’re driving her up to Mountainview?” Rich asked.
“Yeh,” I smiled. “I am not looking forward to it, either.”
Rich has been in our family long enough to know about Ma’s tendencies toward drama. I’ve always been able to count on Rich as an ally when Ma did this kind of thing. While Lily cried into her hands or took Ma into another room to calm her down, Rich and I would smoke cigarettes in Ma’s backyard. We’d been through this before.
“Better not leave her alone when you stop for gas.” Rich chuckled softly. “She might get thirsty.”
I stifled a laugh. It felt good to make fun. It made this less absurd. Less insane.
Lily turned around. Her face was red, the platter of steaks was trembling in her hands. I concentrated on the meat so that I wouldn’t laugh.
“Just kidding.” Rich shrugged. “Sorry.”
“How’s the company doing?” I asked quickly.
“Great. Summer’s over, so the guys are happy.You’d never believe what a difference there is between a hundred-fifteen degrees and ninety degrees.”
“I can imagine,” I said.
Rich lit the candles with a lighter from his pocket. When Lily reached into the fridge for the butter, he pretended to suck out the lighter fluid.
Lily turned around and saw him. She slammed the mashed potatoes on the table. “Enough!”
She sat down and put her napkin in her lap. I watched her eyes brim with tears and then spill. She didn’t move her hands to her face to stop them.
“This looks great,” Rich said and reached for her hand.
Lily stared at her plate.
He cut into his steak. Red juice spilled out from the middle. He speared a thick pink piece and put the whole thing in his mouth. “It is great.”
Lily wiped quickly at the tears and smiled at him weakly.
Then, in the other room Violet’s chest rumbled and I watched Lily’s glance dart quickly toward the living room. She lay her fork across the plate and strained her neck to listen. She stayed like this until the danger of another explosion seemed to have passed.
I feigned jet lag so that I wouldn’t have to stay inside that cold living room after Lily had started the dishwasher and blown out the candles.
“You sure you don’t want some bread pudding?” she asked, scooping a warm spoonful of our mother’s bread pudding into a glass bowl. “It’ll help you sleep.”
“Nah,” I said. “I’m pooped.”
“I just made up the bed,” Lily said. “Ma was the last one to stay here.”
I followed her up the stairs, noting how she walked on the balls of her feet as she passed by the living room.
“Night, Rich,” I said, peeking in at him. He was sitting on the couch next to Violet’s bassinet, flipping through the channels. He was still wearing his work clothes. His tie was loosened, though, and he had slipped off his loafers. He had a new beer on the coffee table, resting carefully on one of Lily’s marble coasters.
“Night, Indie,” he said softly. “Sleep tight.”
“Shh . . .” Lily said, pointing at Violet and shaking her finger.
Lily showed me to the guest room and waved her hands around, gesturing to everything I might need. “There are clean towels in the closet, extra blankets and pillows. If you get hot you can adjust the air here. I usually keep it at 65 degrees. I’ve been sleeping downstairs with Violet, so if you need anything, come get me.You might wake up in the middle of the night if you’re jet lagged. Help yourself to some of the bread pudding. I don’t sleep much, so you won’t wake me up.”
“Jeez, Lily, stop. I’ll be fine. Thank you.”
She looked flustered, and then she peered toward the open door.
“What’s the matter?”
“Nothing,” she said.
“Is this about dinner?”
“I’m fine. ” She pulled back the blanket and fluffed the pillow.
“Thanks,” I said, yawning.
“There are more blankets in there,” she said, suddenly irritated. “Sleep tight.”
After she left, I lay down on the hard bed. The
“You’re driving her up to Mountainview?” Rich asked.
“Yeh,” I smiled. “I am not looking forward to it, either.”
Rich has been in our family long enough to know about Ma’s tendencies toward drama. I’ve always been able to count on Rich as an ally when Ma did this kind of thing. While Lily cried into her hands or took Ma into another room to calm her down, Rich and I would smoke cigarettes in Ma’s backyard. We’d been through this before.
“Better not leave her alone when you stop for gas.” Rich chuckled softly. “She might get thirsty.”
I stifled a laugh. It felt good to make fun. It made this less absurd. Less insane.
Lily turned around. Her face was red, the platter of steaks was trembling in her hands. I concentrated on the meat so that I wouldn’t laugh.
“Just kidding.” Rich shrugged. “Sorry.”
“How’s the company doing?” I asked quickly.
“Great. Summer’s over, so the guys are happy.You’d never believe what a difference there is between a hundred-fifteen degrees and ninety degrees.”
“I can imagine,” I said.
Rich lit the candles with a lighter from his pocket. When Lily reached into the fridge for the butter, he pretended to suck out the lighter fluid.
Lily turned around and saw him. She slammed the mashed potatoes on the table. “Enough!”
She sat down and put her napkin in her lap. I watched her eyes brim with tears and then spill. She didn’t move her hands to her face to stop them.
“This looks great,” Rich said and reached for her hand.
Lily stared at her plate.
He cut into his steak. Red juice spilled out from the middle. He speared a thick pink piece and put the whole thing in his mouth. “It is great.”
Lily wiped quickly at the tears and smiled at him weakly.
Then, in the other room Violet’s chest rumbled and I watched Lily’s glance dart quickly toward the living room. She lay her fork across the plate and strained her neck to listen. She stayed like this until the danger of another explosion seemed to have passed.
I feigned jet lag so that I wouldn’t have to stay inside that cold living room after Lily had started the dishwasher and blown out the candles.
“You sure you don’t want some bread pudding?” she asked, scooping a warm spoonful of our mother’s bread pudding into a glass bowl. “It’ll help you sleep.”
“Nah,” I said. “I’m pooped.”
“I just made up the bed,” Lily said. “Ma was the last one to stay here.”
I followed her up the stairs, noting how she walked on the balls of her feet as she passed by the living room.
“Night, Rich,” I said, peeking in at him. He was sitting on the couch next to Violet’s bassinet, flipping through the channels. He was still wearing his work clothes. His tie was loosened, though, and he had slipped off his loafers. He had a new beer on the coffee table, resting carefully on one of Lily’s marble coasters.
“Night, Indie,” he said softly. “Sleep tight.”
“Shh . . .” Lily said, pointing at Violet and shaking her finger.
Lily showed me to the guest room and waved her hands around, gesturing to everything I might need. “There are clean towels in the closet, extra blankets and pillows. If you get hot you can adjust the air here. I usually keep it at 65 degrees. I’ve been sleeping downstairs with Violet, so if you need anything, come get me.You might wake up in the middle of the night if you’re jet lagged. Help yourself to some of the bread pudding. I don’t sleep much, so you won’t wake me up.”
“Jeez, Lily, stop. I’ll be fine. Thank you.”
She looked flustered, and then she peered toward the open door.
“What’s the matter?”
“Nothing,” she said.
“Is this about dinner?”
“I’m fine. ” She pulled back the blanket and fluffed the pillow.
“Thanks,” I said, yawning.
“There are more blankets in there,” she said, suddenly irritated. “Sleep tight.”
After she left, I lay down on the hard bed. The
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