ourselves closed up.
Half way through the meal, Mom made another attempt to expel the quiet. "Claire, have you heard from Laura lately?"
The question was asked after a particularly long silence, which jolted me from my wandering state-of-mind, and caused me to knock my fork against my water glass. Lil rolled her eyes.
"Yeah," I answered, "she called me just last week. We made our arrangements."
"What arrangements?" She asked.
"Oh, I thought you knew," I replied. "I'm going to visit Laura and her family for Christmas." Mom's expression turned a little pained, so I had to explain why I decided to spend the holiday with my best friend instead of my family. "I haven't seen her new baby yet. And it's been almost two years since I've seen
her
."
Mom's disappointment lessened, but it didn't go away. "Your father and I were discussing coming out to see you for Christmas."
I glanced at Dad. His expression told me that their discussion had been more Mom's idea, and he had just gone along with it. Well, I wasn't about to change my plans. I was spending Thanksgiving with them, wasn't I? I deserved to see Laura for the next holiday.
"Sorry," I shrugged.
"Oh, that's okay." Mom said. "We'll just wait and come out in March. That's when Jake has spring break. He can come, too." She looked at Jacob, expecting to see a ecstatic response, but he just sat there staring at his plate.
Mom pursued him for the reaction she wanted. "Jake, wouldn't you like to go visit Aunt Claire with us?"
He continued with his standard apathy towards her.
"It's nice and warm, and you can wear your shorts there in March," she persisted.
"Sure," he muttered at last, while maintaining complete interest in the mash potato sculpture he had been creating for the last twenty minutes.
"Maybe your aunt will take you to the beach and you can swim in the ocean." She so badly wanted him to show some enthusiasm for the idea.
"Mom says Aunt Claire is a bitch," he stated flatly.
"Lillian Marie!" Mom cried, and all the adults at the table shot glares at Lil, myself included.
My sister only shrugged, and responded with "kids say the darnedest things." I noticed the smiled she suppressed as she shoveled a forkful of peas in her mouth.
* * *
After we stuffed ourselves and lounged about in our dining room chairs for nearly a half an hour, sipping our water and making very little eye contact with each other, Mom got up and began to clear the plates. Lil and I both resumed our roles in the old childhood chores by helping her to move the table things into the kitchen and store away the leftovers.
Then we took up washing the dishes, Mom at the sink, me drying and Lil putting the plates and glasses back in the cupboards or on the hutch. That's when we were most in harmony, when we worked as an assembly line to complete a mundane chore. No glares were passed, no sneers or crude comments interrupted the peace.
When the work was done, Mom started up the coffee pot so that we could commence with the dessert. Even though we were still stuffed, I had every intention of cramming a sizeable piece of Mom's pumpkin pie down my throat. It wasn't very often that I had this kind of opportunity to indulge in Mom's baking.
As I got the pie out of the refrigerator to warm it up in the oven, Mom resumed her efforts at dialogue. "So, Claire, what do you intend to do during your next few days home?"
I ignored the fact that she still referred to this place as 'home' in context to me. This may have been where I grew up, but I made my home a thousand miles away. Such reminders would only wound her, so I just replied, "I thought I'd visit some old haunts, see the sites."
"Oh," Mom took earnest interest. "Are there any people – any friends – you plan to see?"
Mom knew I had very few acquaintances in high school. Why would she think that there might be anyone here I'd want to see? She never understood why I was a loner, and what must have been wrong with me to make me so antisocial. She
Half way through the meal, Mom made another attempt to expel the quiet. "Claire, have you heard from Laura lately?"
The question was asked after a particularly long silence, which jolted me from my wandering state-of-mind, and caused me to knock my fork against my water glass. Lil rolled her eyes.
"Yeah," I answered, "she called me just last week. We made our arrangements."
"What arrangements?" She asked.
"Oh, I thought you knew," I replied. "I'm going to visit Laura and her family for Christmas." Mom's expression turned a little pained, so I had to explain why I decided to spend the holiday with my best friend instead of my family. "I haven't seen her new baby yet. And it's been almost two years since I've seen
her
."
Mom's disappointment lessened, but it didn't go away. "Your father and I were discussing coming out to see you for Christmas."
I glanced at Dad. His expression told me that their discussion had been more Mom's idea, and he had just gone along with it. Well, I wasn't about to change my plans. I was spending Thanksgiving with them, wasn't I? I deserved to see Laura for the next holiday.
"Sorry," I shrugged.
"Oh, that's okay." Mom said. "We'll just wait and come out in March. That's when Jake has spring break. He can come, too." She looked at Jacob, expecting to see a ecstatic response, but he just sat there staring at his plate.
Mom pursued him for the reaction she wanted. "Jake, wouldn't you like to go visit Aunt Claire with us?"
He continued with his standard apathy towards her.
"It's nice and warm, and you can wear your shorts there in March," she persisted.
"Sure," he muttered at last, while maintaining complete interest in the mash potato sculpture he had been creating for the last twenty minutes.
"Maybe your aunt will take you to the beach and you can swim in the ocean." She so badly wanted him to show some enthusiasm for the idea.
"Mom says Aunt Claire is a bitch," he stated flatly.
"Lillian Marie!" Mom cried, and all the adults at the table shot glares at Lil, myself included.
My sister only shrugged, and responded with "kids say the darnedest things." I noticed the smiled she suppressed as she shoveled a forkful of peas in her mouth.
* * *
After we stuffed ourselves and lounged about in our dining room chairs for nearly a half an hour, sipping our water and making very little eye contact with each other, Mom got up and began to clear the plates. Lil and I both resumed our roles in the old childhood chores by helping her to move the table things into the kitchen and store away the leftovers.
Then we took up washing the dishes, Mom at the sink, me drying and Lil putting the plates and glasses back in the cupboards or on the hutch. That's when we were most in harmony, when we worked as an assembly line to complete a mundane chore. No glares were passed, no sneers or crude comments interrupted the peace.
When the work was done, Mom started up the coffee pot so that we could commence with the dessert. Even though we were still stuffed, I had every intention of cramming a sizeable piece of Mom's pumpkin pie down my throat. It wasn't very often that I had this kind of opportunity to indulge in Mom's baking.
As I got the pie out of the refrigerator to warm it up in the oven, Mom resumed her efforts at dialogue. "So, Claire, what do you intend to do during your next few days home?"
I ignored the fact that she still referred to this place as 'home' in context to me. This may have been where I grew up, but I made my home a thousand miles away. Such reminders would only wound her, so I just replied, "I thought I'd visit some old haunts, see the sites."
"Oh," Mom took earnest interest. "Are there any people – any friends – you plan to see?"
Mom knew I had very few acquaintances in high school. Why would she think that there might be anyone here I'd want to see? She never understood why I was a loner, and what must have been wrong with me to make me so antisocial. She
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