Page 83 of Pity Play

“Yes, I cleaned,” I grumble. “But that’s not what I’m talking about.”

He sits at the kitchen table and slumps to the point where he’s almost lying on it. “I’m tired, Lorelai. I’ve had a hard day. Heck, I’ve had a brutal week. I’m not in the mood to play guessing games.”

He does seem particularly gruff, even for Noah, so I decide to let it go for now. “You want cheese on your sandwich?” He nods his head, so I open the refrigerator and get out the fixings. Then I build his sandwich the way I know he prefers. He likes three slices of bread, three slices of cheese, and enough salami that Idon’t know how he’s going to bite through it all. Then there’s lettuce and grain mustard. Putting it on a plate, I hand it over to him.

“How about chips?” he wants to know.

The only reason I don’t pick up the bag and throw it at him is because he really seems out of sorts. So instead of resorting to violence, I merely open the bag, take out a handful, and add it to his plate. I watch as he eats in silence.

The next thing I know, I hear the front door open and my mom yell, “We’re home, honey!”

My dad follows that up with, “This isn’t our house! Where’s the wall?”

Noah looks up from his lunch and says, “I knew something looked different.”

Hurrying into the living room, I give both of my parents a big hug. Then I state the obvious, “I had the wall knocked down.”

My dad looks like he’s about to succumb to a heart attack, but my mom merely beams from ear to ear. “I love it!” she declares with feeling. “I mean, wow! It looks so much bigger in here.”

“How much did it cost?” This from my dad.

I smile at him and in dulcet tones meant to soothe, I say, “Anna said you’ll make back three times the cost, minimum. People want an open floor plan these days.”

His expression transforms into a radiant smile, “I love it!”

“You should know that Noah is home,” I tell them. “He’s in the kitchen.”

My mom nods her head. “He called and said he had something to tell us.” She walks toward the back of the house and announces, “The kitchen is gorgeous!”

My dad and I quickly follow behind and my dad needs to know, “How much didthiscost?”

“Three times the return in here, too.”

“I love it!” he declares for the second time in as many minutes.

Noah looks up from his plate. “Hey.”

“Hay is for horses,” my dad tells him before nearly pickinghim up by the scruff of the neck for a hug. Once my dad’s done, he hands over his son so my mom can have a turn.

“Honey,” my mom tells him. “You look like crap.”

“Thanks, Mom.” He disengages himself from her embrace before sitting back down. “I guess I might as well tell you all now.”

“Tell us what?” I want to know. He clearly didn’t get a personality transplant because he’s as grumpy as ever.

“I lost my job,” he says.

“You what?” My mom’s in as much shock as any of us.

“I thought you were taking the team to first place this year. How did you lose your job?” my dad wants to know.

Noah exhales like he’s blowing out birthday candles from across the room. “The school hired Holland Frame to be head coach.”

“Really?” My dad suddenly seems very excited. “How did they lure away a past NBA superstar to coach a high school team?”

“Holland’s grandson goes to school there,” Noah says.

My mom makes a cutting motion across her throat. “And just like that, they gave you the boot?”

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