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Authors: Heidi Cullinan
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farmed the land Larry no longer could. There was no logic in Paul, who didn’t have a tractor with a snowplow attachment, to drive seven miles out of town on unplowed roads to shovel a ten-foot walk, but his father’s tone made Paul feel guilty all the same.
They went inside together, Paul taking care to not only wipe his boots but line them up the way his mother liked, hanging his coat on the peg that had always been his while Larry called out, “Mother, Pauly’s here.”
Paul’s mother emerged from the kitchen, frowning as she wiped her hands on a dishtowel. “Land sakes, we were worried sick.” Mary kissed Paul’s cheek and patted his arm. “Come eat. The pork chops need to come out of the oven, or they’ll get tough.”
After stopping to wash his hands in the bathroom by the kitchen, Paul took his place as his mother laid out a dish of peas, a bowl of mashed potatoes, pork chops, dinner rolls and gravy. His father tucked a cloth napkin in his lap and poured milk into his glass from a gallon jug. “How’s business? You breaking even yet?”
Paul nodded as he accepted the milk from his father. “Doing fine. Nice and steady.”
“Probably the Christmas rush. You best put plenty by for the long winter months.”
“I will.” Paul poured his mother’s milk as she sat.
“Thank you.” Mary draped her own napkin. “Will you say grace, Dad?”
Larry said a short prayer, during which Paul murmured along but mostly let his mind wander, thinking how it drove Arthur nuts how Paul’s parents called each other Mother and Dad.
Mary passed him the potatoes. “I heard at Circle you were helping with the Winter Wonderland festival. What will you be doing?”
“Still sorting that out. I’m meeting with Arthur and the guys tomorrow to make plans. Some kind of display area, which Kyle Parks is going to stencil. The guys are helping out too.”
Mary pulled a face. “Let’s hope there are no displays like last year.”
The display upsetting her almost a year later was Arthur’s grand proposal to Gabriel, in a Santa suit. Paul didn’t reply, pushing his peas around his plate.
Dinner proceeded along, alternating between inquiries about his life and reports of his parents’ comings and goings. Larry’s hip was giving him trouble, according to Mary, but he insisted it was fine. Mary had started a new afghan she intended to give to the donation basket at church. She also had made great progress on some squares for the quilt her women’s circle was making.
“Sandra and Tim are coming over tomorrow for lunch after church. Dad will probably take the kids up to the hill to go sledding, if his hip is okay.”
“My hip will be fine, Mother.”
Mary gave Paul a look that said she clearly wasn’t convinced of this, but time would tell. “You should come sit with us at church, Paul, and eat lunch after.”
“I’ll do my best,” Paul lied.
He’d let his mother parade eligible women past his nose before he’d spend time voluntarily with his sister and brother-in-law. Anytime they were around, he had to listen to hate speech about somebody, usually gays but not necessarily limited to that demographic. Sandy particularly hated Gabriel and what she called his progressive agenda . “He always has books about black and Hispanic kids. And Asian kids. You want to know how many of those we have in Logan? Zero. And thank God. Probably he’ll have a book about Islam next. Trying to turn our poor innocent children into Jihadis.”
There was no Gabriel-bashing today, thankfully. After dinner he offered to do some odd jobs, but they didn’t have any because Tim had done them all. Or they had some and knew if they got too complicated, Paul would try to come back with Arthur. So he watched some hockey with his dad until Tim came over to do chores. Paul hurried into his coat, making noise about how he couldn’t stay because he had lots to do at home.
When he did get to his house, he pulled a microwave meal out of
They went inside together, Paul taking care to not only wipe his boots but line them up the way his mother liked, hanging his coat on the peg that had always been his while Larry called out, “Mother, Pauly’s here.”
Paul’s mother emerged from the kitchen, frowning as she wiped her hands on a dishtowel. “Land sakes, we were worried sick.” Mary kissed Paul’s cheek and patted his arm. “Come eat. The pork chops need to come out of the oven, or they’ll get tough.”
After stopping to wash his hands in the bathroom by the kitchen, Paul took his place as his mother laid out a dish of peas, a bowl of mashed potatoes, pork chops, dinner rolls and gravy. His father tucked a cloth napkin in his lap and poured milk into his glass from a gallon jug. “How’s business? You breaking even yet?”
Paul nodded as he accepted the milk from his father. “Doing fine. Nice and steady.”
“Probably the Christmas rush. You best put plenty by for the long winter months.”
“I will.” Paul poured his mother’s milk as she sat.
“Thank you.” Mary draped her own napkin. “Will you say grace, Dad?”
Larry said a short prayer, during which Paul murmured along but mostly let his mind wander, thinking how it drove Arthur nuts how Paul’s parents called each other Mother and Dad.
Mary passed him the potatoes. “I heard at Circle you were helping with the Winter Wonderland festival. What will you be doing?”
“Still sorting that out. I’m meeting with Arthur and the guys tomorrow to make plans. Some kind of display area, which Kyle Parks is going to stencil. The guys are helping out too.”
Mary pulled a face. “Let’s hope there are no displays like last year.”
The display upsetting her almost a year later was Arthur’s grand proposal to Gabriel, in a Santa suit. Paul didn’t reply, pushing his peas around his plate.
Dinner proceeded along, alternating between inquiries about his life and reports of his parents’ comings and goings. Larry’s hip was giving him trouble, according to Mary, but he insisted it was fine. Mary had started a new afghan she intended to give to the donation basket at church. She also had made great progress on some squares for the quilt her women’s circle was making.
“Sandra and Tim are coming over tomorrow for lunch after church. Dad will probably take the kids up to the hill to go sledding, if his hip is okay.”
“My hip will be fine, Mother.”
Mary gave Paul a look that said she clearly wasn’t convinced of this, but time would tell. “You should come sit with us at church, Paul, and eat lunch after.”
“I’ll do my best,” Paul lied.
He’d let his mother parade eligible women past his nose before he’d spend time voluntarily with his sister and brother-in-law. Anytime they were around, he had to listen to hate speech about somebody, usually gays but not necessarily limited to that demographic. Sandy particularly hated Gabriel and what she called his progressive agenda . “He always has books about black and Hispanic kids. And Asian kids. You want to know how many of those we have in Logan? Zero. And thank God. Probably he’ll have a book about Islam next. Trying to turn our poor innocent children into Jihadis.”
There was no Gabriel-bashing today, thankfully. After dinner he offered to do some odd jobs, but they didn’t have any because Tim had done them all. Or they had some and knew if they got too complicated, Paul would try to come back with Arthur. So he watched some hockey with his dad until Tim came over to do chores. Paul hurried into his coat, making noise about how he couldn’t stay because he had lots to do at home.
When he did get to his house, he pulled a microwave meal out of
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