Authors: Kathryn R. Biel
I don't want to talk about my family. I mean, I love my mom and dad but the rest is sort of ... yeah. That. I think I always thought we were the stereotypical suburban family, except with dead bodies next door (and in my dad's car). As I've grown older, I'm saddened by the dysfunction between my siblings and me.
"Well, I told you about my dad. We were—are—very close. I still go to visit him every weekday. I don't go by on the weekends as much because he gets other visitors then. I miss him terribly. My mom, well, she's a unique character. She's a good mom, she is. Except she can't help but fall under Jenna's spell, which then causes problems between us. My dad used to tell my mom when Jenna was yanking her around, but he's not around to do that anymore."
"Is it just you and Jenna?"
"No, we have an older brother, Brady. He's married to Tina. I'm pretty sure she took his balls when they got engaged. He's the most apathetic, useless person. On top of that, he's pretty much a douchebag."
"Wow, tell me how you really feel."
"After Dad's stroke, we sued the doctor. It was malpractice, no question. My dad had been a small business owner—he was partners with his brother in a funeral home. I know he saved for retirement, but I don't think it would have been enough. This way we could ensure his care and Mom's well being. To me, that's why we sued. So Dad could be where he is and Mom would never have to worry and could keep her house. So, right before the settlement came in, Brady tried to convince Mom and the lawyer that we should split the settlement four ways. That would have left Mom with only one-quarter of the settlement to provide for her and Dad. When I brought that up, Tina's response—with which Brady agreed—was that if I didn't like it, I could give my parents my portion."
"Essentially leaving you with nothing, your mom with barely enough and—"
"And Brady and Jenna would get a tidy little package for doing nothing. Jenna at least goes to see Dad on holidays or when my mom guilts her into it. Brady and Tina haven't been in probably two years. But then, Brady posts on Facebook about how much he misses my dad and writes all these letters to him. When I've confronted him about it, he says he can't bear to see him like that, so it's easier for him to think of Dad as already dead."
"Wow, that is pretty douchey."
"I can't argue with that one."
"It doesn't matter now, anyway, since the settlement will remain in trust as long as Dad's alive. The primary reason for it is to take care of him and Mom. Brady, Jenna, and me—our needs are secondary."
"So you won on that one, I take it?"
Smiling, I nod. It was a sweet victory.
The doorbell rings, signaling the arrival of our food. I get up to go get my wallet, but Max throws his hand in my direction. "I got this. Relax."
I sink back into the couch and wait for him to return. In a minute, he's back with the brown paper bags, spreading the white containers over the table. We're silent for a few minutes as the need for food overtakes the need for conversation. Inhaling the food voraciously, I hadn't even realized I was this hungry until I started eating. I try not to be too clumsy with the chopsticks, but fail miserably, repeatedly dropping clumps of white rice all over the place—the table, the floor, down the front of my shirt.
Okay. So do I fish it out? What is the proper etiquette for food in the boobs?
I'm sitting there, just trying to figure out what to do when Max looks up. He's a pro with the chopsticks. I can get the rice out later.
"You're good with your chopsticks. I'm a mess." Again the thought of Max being good with his hands runs through my head. STOP IT!
"Sonya Lin." He waggles the chopsticks at me.
"What?"
"Sonya Lin. I went to grade school with her. Her family was Taiwanese. She taught the entire class how to use chopsticks. It's never failed me yet." Waggling again. Then, he picks up and pops a piece of chicken in his mouth with ease.
"I need a Sonya Lin," I say, trying desperately to grab a piece of broccoli with my chopsticks. My mouth waters just looking at it. Why can't I pick the damn thing up? Get in my mouth already!
"No, you don't. You've got me."
My girl parts threaten to ignite when he says that. Damn, I've been alone too long.
He apparently doesn't notice me having a small coronary over here. "You have to hold the bottom one like you would hold a pencil."
I pick up the chopsticks and try to follow his instructions, hooking my index finger around the top stick. Holy cow, it works!
"Look at me! I'm doing it!"
"Does that mean you're going to stop dropping rice everywhere?" And he puts emphasis on the word
everywhere
, which means I know he knows about the rice in my bra. I try to pretend that he doesn't. That he's not thinking about my bra right now. And that I'm not thinking about the things he could do with my bra right now. With his mouth.
Oh crap, I need a cold shower.
Have I mentioned that Max is not only hot, but funny and incredibly sexy? Plus, I know he owns leather chaps. I need to STOP. NOW.
Standing up quickly, I thank Max for dinner as I start to pack up my containers. Okay, what is the proper thing to do here? Do I take my leftovers or leave them, since he paid for them? If we were in a restaurant, I would take my own leftovers home, but we're at his home. But if he eats out of my containers, isn't that gross? No, it's kind of sexy. I can see him, standing over his sink, eating out of the box, fancy chopstick action. And no shirt. His muscles would be bulging each time he lifted a bite to his incredibly kissable lips.
"Sadie? Earth to Sadie?"
Snapping out of my entirely inappropriate reverie, "Oh yeah? What?"
"You stood up and now you're standing there all weird. Are you okay?"
"Yeah, I'm fine." I reply. I have got to get out of there. "Thanks again. See you whenever."
He stands up and follows me to his front door. "Tomorrow, right? Tomorrow's Monday and we usually work then, right? I have a light day with my other stuff. What's a good time to come by?"
There's not much distance between us anymore. He's looking at me eagerly. I have to split before I attack him and ruin our friendship.
I kind of get the feeling he wouldn't mind that much. I wouldn't mind that much. But I would. I'm off men. I mumble, "Whenever. Let yourself in. Do whatever you want." To my body. GAH.
I give a shaky wave and head out to my car. I whip out my phone and dial Therese, putting her on speaker so I can drive legally while still talking.
"I'm trying to watch my show."
"A show where a bunch of rich bitches throw tables at each other is not entertainment. They're just a bunch of arrogant, alcoholic, pushy women who have a misguided sense of entitlement. No wonder one of them is going to jail."
"Tell me how you really feel."
"I just did."
"Okay, then tell me why you're really calling. You never call this late at night."
"What time is it?" I look at my dashboard clock. Ten-thirty. "Oh geez, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to call so late. It's been one of those days."
"Dare I even ask?"
"Too much to get into tonight, but I need you to talk me down. I'm going to end up jumping Max."
"What's the problem with that?"
"You know. I can't do that to another person."
"I don't think the world would be so cruel as to take someone else away from you, do you?"
"Yeah, I do. Especially considering the other issue of the day. Apparently, my sister is a Fertile Myrtle."
"Come again?"
"Yeah, that's the other thing, which is why I want to focus on my obsession with my hired laborer."
"Who knows? He could be the next Magic Mike. You should give it a shot."
"You know his name is really Mike, right?"
"Oh yeah, you told me that. Before I get lost in a Channing daydream, don't think you're getting off the hook that easily. What's this about Jenna?"
"Pregnant. Rob's baby."
"No shit!"
"Yes shit, so that's why I'm not tempting the universe right now."
"She's going to have a baby? She hates being around children."
"I know, and she'll be going at it alone, so I'm betting that my mom will end up doing the heavy lifting on this. There is no way Jenna will be able to handle it by herself."
"Maybe she can finally rise to the challenge and will surprise us all."
"Maybe Rob's parents will sue for custody, and she'll get off the hook, totally scot free."
Rob's mother, Bernice, has little patience for Jenna, or anyone else in my family, for that matter. I'm watching all this unfold at Sunday dinner. It's the end of June, and Jenna has finally decided she needs to come clean with Rob's parents. Naturally, my mom offers to put on a big meal so we can all come together. I still want nothing to do with Jenna or her spawn, but there is no way in hell I'm missing this showdown.
My mom's running herself ragged between the meat on the grill and all the rest of the prep in the kitchen. I want a front row seat when Rob's parents show up but for right now, I'm being useful and setting the table for Mom. I've brought a large tossed salad, and I'm fixing fresh dressing for it. Jenna is pouting because she wanted to have the dinner outside, but the insects are terrible this year, so Mom insisted on staying in.
"God, what's in that dressing? It's so smelly," she says, wrinkling her nose as she walks by, stealing a crouton and popping it in her mouth. "You know, it's a pregnancy thing. I am just sooooo sensitive to smells right now. Not that you would know what it's like."
That's the thing with Jenna. She has moments when she can be fine but then just has to push, push, push it over the edge. I just ignore her, like I always do. And when I ignore her, she keeps upping the ante until I lose control and snap at her. I am determined not to let it happen this time.
"I'm soooo tired all the time too. This is hard work, growing a person. Most days, I'm surprised I'm even functional. I'm starting to nest as well. You should see all the cute things I've bought for baby Robin. This baby is going to have so many toys to play with, it's going to be ridiculous."
"The only one here that's ridiculous is you." I can't help but snap at her.
"Well, you don't have to bite my head off."
That's it—I can't handle it anymore. "Jenna, what were you thinking? I mean, hooking up with my boyfriend was one thing, but how could you let this happen?"
She's on her way out of the room but stops and turns to me. "I guess Mother Nature had a plan."
"A plan? You wouldn't know a plan if it bit you in the ass! What are you going to do for money? For child care? Do you actually think you can take care of this baby?" My voice is rising octave after octave. Pretty soon only dogs will be able to hear me.
"Sadie, all your ranting is giving me a headache. I can't handle this kind of stress in my delicate condition. Are you trying to stress me out? It's bad for the baby. Mom, you need to make her stop interrogating me!"
"Girls!" Mom admonishes us. "The Hendersons are going to be here any minute. Stop your bickering. I don't want a repeat of the wake when they get here. You need to be on your best behavior."
It's like we're eight and ten again.
"Well, I'm the only one here who has an excuse for passing out and throwing up now. Sadie just likes to be dramatic."
To keep from punching her, I grab the tray of rolls and cheese and bring it to the table. The doorbell rings, and Jenna calls, "Sadie, be a doll and answer the door for me. I don't want to greet Bernice and George like this."
Like I'm the freakin' hired help. I open the door and plaster a smile on my face. "Hello Mr. and Mrs.—Bernice and George. Please come in." I always had trouble being on a first-name basis with them. Rob called me old fashioned and dated. I like to think I'm respectful. I think it's really more from hearing my dad and uncle address clients at the funeral home. They always used titles.
"Oh, it's you."
What a rousing endorsement. In a hollow voice, I manage, "How have you been?"
When Rob and I were together, I never saw this side of his mother. She was always very cordial to me. Certainly not warm and fuzzy, but I never would have pictured her as a bitch. Guess what? She is. Sort of makes me glad I'm not saddled with her as my mother-in-law. "My son is dead. How do you think I've been?"
So I see her attitude has not improved since the wake.
My mother rushes out. "Bernice, George, I'm so glad you accepted this invitation. I think we have a lot to talk about."
Bernice looks at her husband. "I didn't want to come here. He made me."
George gives my mom a weak smile. "Carol, thank you for inviting us. This has been a very difficult time for us, as I'm sure you can imagine."
"Oh, yes, I'm sure. I'm just getting the meat off the grill. Sadie, please get our guests something to drink."
She turns and is gone, leaving me standing there like a nincompoop. "Um, uh, what can I get you to drink? Wine? Beer? Soda? Water?" A fork to stick in my eye just to make this all stop?
I get their orders and usher them into the dining room. Where the hell is Jenna? And then I get it—she's waiting to make her entrance. Like at the wake, Jenna is always about her entrance. It started the day she was born, when my mom went into labor and delivered Jenna at the movie theater. Seriously, why couldn't my mom ever deliver at a hospital like a normal person? We always said she was born to be an actress. Except for the complete lack of talent, she has everything she needs. Too bad she wasn't born a Kardashian.
Sitting uncomfortably, trying not to make eye contact with Rob's parents, I'm completely at a loss for what to say. Luckily, Rob's dad breaks the ice.
"How's the rest of the school year gone for you?"
"It's been a struggle, but we've made it through. It was tough. First losing a student and then Rob. I think we'll all be glad when this year comes to a close. Will you be at Awards Night for the scholarship announcement?"
"Yes, we plan to be there. It's the least we can do to carry on Robin's name." George is at least pleasant to me.
"I think he would really like it, a scholarship going to a student who plans to study economics. It isn't always the most popular course, but Rob was certainly one of the most popular teachers." Because he let everyone get away with everything. But they don't need to know that he was a pushover.
So, now it's time for Jenna to drop the bomb on Rob's parents. She's changed her clothes into an obvious maternity top. But she's not that big yet so it sort of looks more like an unfortunate wardrobe choice. Bernice gets it right away. I would guess that Jenna is not their favorite person to begin with. I don't think this makes the situation any better.
"Oh, no. Not you. I'd take her—" she's pointing at me, "over you." Geez, thanks for the vote of confidence.
"Well, I'm the one you have to deal with. I'm the one giving you a grandchild."
"The only thing you'll be giving us is a paternity test."
"How can you question this? Like I would cheat on Robin?"
I can't hold back on that one. "Well, I never thought Rob would cheat on me, let alone with my sister. Or that my sister would sleep with my boyfriend, so it just goes to show you, you can't trust anyone anymore."
Jenna shoots me her patented death-ray stare. I swear she could win awards for it. As if my comment has somehow betrayed our sisterly bond. Oh, wait, her sleeping with my boyfriend took care of that one.
"Well, since you all have doubt, I would be happy to submit to a paternity test, and then you can apologize to me and little Robin."
Bernice gasps and then lets out a tiny squeak. Her mouth is hanging open. At this moment, my mom walks back in, carrying a tray loaded with steaming meat. I get up, take the tray from her and place it on the table. Using the tongs, I snag a chicken breast and plop it down on my plate. Everyone else is just sitting there, staring at each other. Jenna and Bernice are engaged in a death-stare showdown. Man, the kid is going to have one heck of a staring ability. Like it could win championships.
My mother sits down, looks around, and then notices I'm eating. "Sadie, for heaven's sake, don't be rude. Didn't I raise you better?"
George looks at my plate and then at my mother. "Carol, I don't presume to tell you your business in your own house, but I don't think Sadie's manners are the ones you should be concerned about right now."
I want to high five this man.
The rest of the dinner is about as uncomfortable as you can get, short of having itching powder in your underpants. I think Bernice may have bested Jenna in the stare down. Jenna is a bit on the subdued side. Now George and Bernice are exchanging glances, having a whole conversation without ever saying a word. My mother prattles on as if nothing is amiss. She's good at doing that. She's bad at acknowledging there is a problem. Hence, Jenna.
Finally, what seems like hours later (but actually is only ninety minutes), Bernice and George are ready to leave. Bernice addresses Jenna for the first time. "After we confirm the paternity, we will be sitting down with a lawyer and drawing up a visitation agreement. If you don't cooperate, we will consider going for custody."
Boom. There it is.