Page 98 of Give Me a Shot

“Thanks, Mom,” she said. “Kind of you to do that.”

“Of course, sweetie, of course. Oh! There’s also a pie. A Bob Andy,” her mom said, smiling.

Oh God, I’m gonna die. A custard pie? I’ll never digest that.

“You didn’t have to go to so much trouble,” Jess said. Her mom put her hands on both of Jess’s arms and squeezed.

“How could it be any trouble if it’s for you?” she asked. She squeezed again, looking at Jess’s arms. “But really, honey, you are skin and bones. You haven’t been taking care of yourself.”

Jess shrugged.

“I’m fine, Mom; don’t worry,” she said. “Can I help with anything? Maybe set the table?”

“Oh, that would be helpful, thank you. I already put the plates and glasses on it, but the places need to be set.”

“Gotcha,” Jess said, eager to go somewhere the aroma might not be so strong. She found the dishes stacked on one corner of the table, so she placed those first. Laying down the third on autopilot, she reached back for the fourth, but nothing was there. Her breath rushed out. Her last visit, there had been other family visiting as well. The six-person table had been full. Before that, every single time she’d set this table, there had been four plates, not three. And from now on, when they ate as just immediate family, there would always be a plate missing. Jess’s vision started swimming; her nose began to burn. There were also three glasses when there should have been four.

“Jess, hon, grab the utensils out of the sideboard,” her mom called out from the kitchen. “I don’t want to use everyday utensils on such a special occasion.”

Jess took a deep breath as she turned to the sideboard. She wasn’t going to break down, not here, not now. She didn’t want to show her feelings in front of her parents, particularly her father. If emotions came into play, it would start a fight. Quickly grabbing three sets of everything, she straightened her spine and tookanother breath. As she laid the rest of the table, her vision sharpened, and her pain began to subside. She thought she was in the clear until she heard her father’s voice.

“Jessica,” he said, standing inside the doorway from the hall. He was holding what Jess assumed to be a glass of scotch in his hand.

A little early in the day, isn’t it?

“Father,” Jess said, regaining her posture after placing the last spoon. He looked at her for a moment without saying anything. His round face was distinctly redder and puffier than her last visit.

Looks like the early scotch has become a habit.

“It’s been a while,” he said.

Jess nodded.

“A shame,” he said.

“Oh?” she asked.

“Yes. Upsets your mother,” he said. “Brenda,” he called out to Jess’s mom. “Can we sit down?”

But it doesn’t upset you, of course.

Jess shook her head internally. But she didn’t ask. If she did, it would start a fight.

“Yes, yes,” Jess’s mom called back. “Everything’s ready.”

Her father’s steps were a little shaky as he crossed the room and sat down at his usual seat at the head of the table. Jess wasn’t sure what to make of that.

More than one glass? Before lunch?

Jess also noticed that he hadn’t offered to help her mom bring the food in, like Mo did at her house. But that was who her father was, a man who expected his wife to wait on him. And she’d been doing it for years.

“Sit down, Jess,” he said, motioning her to her habitual seat. Jess shook her head.

“I’m gonna help Mom with the food.” She walked out of the dining room without another word. It was best if she didn’t spend time with him without her mom’s mediating presence. She was going to avoid a fight.

—

Jess did not check the time. Her father had spent the entire meal talking about himself. While she was curious to know exactly how long the monologue had been, she didn’t want to show any signs of annoyance by looking at her watch. That would start a fight. She tried to push the sliver of pie she’d agreed to around on her plate so that her mom’s feelings wouldn’t be hurt. It did taste good, as her mom’s pies always did. But Jess had eaten all that she could; her stomach already felt like it was going to explode.

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