postponing this get-together.
Taking matters into my own hands, I walked up behind Ira’s three kids and whipped the phones and video game out of their hands before they realized what was happening.
“Hey!” yelled the girls in unison.
“Give that back,” shouted the boy.
“Phones and video games are not allowed at the dinner table,” I said.
“Dad! Make her give my phone back,” demanded one of the girls.
“She has no right,” said the other.
The boy jumped out of his chair, knocking it over behind him, as he grabbed for his Game Boy. “Give it back, bitch!”
Mama gasped.
“Isaac, apologize at once!” said Lawrence.
“You’re not my real grandfather. I don’t have to do what you tell me.”
Lucille stopped shoveling food into her mouth and speared Ira with a narrow-eyed glare. “My Isidore would never have such insolent grandchildren. You can’t possibly be his son.”
Ira glanced first at his kids, then at the rest of us, seemingly unable to speak. He looked like he wanted to crawl under the table. Granted, the man was overwhelmed raising three young kids, but he desperately needed to grow a backbone.
Silence descended on the room. “Jump in any time, Ira.” I finally said.
He cleared his throat. “Anastasia is right. You shouldn’t be texting or playing games during dinner,” he told his children.
“Since when?” asked one of the girls, Harmony or Melody. I didn’t have a clue which was which.
“We do it at home,” said the other.
“She’s not my mother,” said the boy. “I don’t have to listen to her.”
“My house, my rules,” I said.
“Fuck you!” He made one more futile attempt at grabbing his Game Boy from my hands. When that failed, he ran from the dining room, through the living room, and out the front door, slamming it so hard the dishes on the table rattled. A moment later, his sisters followed him out in the same manner, but both first tossed me a third finger salute.
“Ira, you’ve got to do something about those children,” said Lawrence. “They’re totally out of control.”
“They’re only acting out because they’ve lost their mother,” said Ira.
“Two years ago. Stop using that as an excuse. You’ve got to set rules and make them abide by them. Trust me, you’ll regret it later if you don’t do something now.”
I wondered if Lawrence spoke from personal experience, given the way Cynthia turned out.
“Well, that went well,” said Mama. “Don’t you think you were a bit harsh, dear?”
This was my fault? “I’m just getting started, Mama. Since you went behind my back and organized this dinner party, you can clean up. I’m leaving. When I return, I expect to find my kitchen in the state I left it this morning.” With that, I headed back through the kitchen, out the back door, and up the garage steps.
Zack opened the door before I knocked. “I’ve had a really bad day,” I said, collapsing into his arms. “How about you?”
He drew me into the apartment and closed the door. “Want to talk about it?”
All of it? Did I? I knew what Zack would say about my newest side job. He’d lecture me and try to talk me out of investigating Philomena’s death. I sighed. “Not all of it, but you’ll probably wheedle it out of me anyway, so we might as well get it over with now.”
“I don’t like the sound of that.”
“Trust me. You’ll like it even less once you know more about it.”
He grabbed a bottle of Sauvignon Blanc from the refrigerator and poured two glasses, carrying them to the sofa. “Out with it,” he said.
I placed the Game Boy and the phones on the coffee table. Zack raised both eyebrows in question. “Hardly worth the effort of an explanation,” I said.
I curled up into a corner of the sofa, and accepted one of the glasses of wine. After a sip, I decided to take the coward’s way out and work backwards. “I’m surprised Mama didn’t invite you to her little shindig this evening.”
Zack sat
Taking matters into my own hands, I walked up behind Ira’s three kids and whipped the phones and video game out of their hands before they realized what was happening.
“Hey!” yelled the girls in unison.
“Give that back,” shouted the boy.
“Phones and video games are not allowed at the dinner table,” I said.
“Dad! Make her give my phone back,” demanded one of the girls.
“She has no right,” said the other.
The boy jumped out of his chair, knocking it over behind him, as he grabbed for his Game Boy. “Give it back, bitch!”
Mama gasped.
“Isaac, apologize at once!” said Lawrence.
“You’re not my real grandfather. I don’t have to do what you tell me.”
Lucille stopped shoveling food into her mouth and speared Ira with a narrow-eyed glare. “My Isidore would never have such insolent grandchildren. You can’t possibly be his son.”
Ira glanced first at his kids, then at the rest of us, seemingly unable to speak. He looked like he wanted to crawl under the table. Granted, the man was overwhelmed raising three young kids, but he desperately needed to grow a backbone.
Silence descended on the room. “Jump in any time, Ira.” I finally said.
He cleared his throat. “Anastasia is right. You shouldn’t be texting or playing games during dinner,” he told his children.
“Since when?” asked one of the girls, Harmony or Melody. I didn’t have a clue which was which.
“We do it at home,” said the other.
“She’s not my mother,” said the boy. “I don’t have to listen to her.”
“My house, my rules,” I said.
“Fuck you!” He made one more futile attempt at grabbing his Game Boy from my hands. When that failed, he ran from the dining room, through the living room, and out the front door, slamming it so hard the dishes on the table rattled. A moment later, his sisters followed him out in the same manner, but both first tossed me a third finger salute.
“Ira, you’ve got to do something about those children,” said Lawrence. “They’re totally out of control.”
“They’re only acting out because they’ve lost their mother,” said Ira.
“Two years ago. Stop using that as an excuse. You’ve got to set rules and make them abide by them. Trust me, you’ll regret it later if you don’t do something now.”
I wondered if Lawrence spoke from personal experience, given the way Cynthia turned out.
“Well, that went well,” said Mama. “Don’t you think you were a bit harsh, dear?”
This was my fault? “I’m just getting started, Mama. Since you went behind my back and organized this dinner party, you can clean up. I’m leaving. When I return, I expect to find my kitchen in the state I left it this morning.” With that, I headed back through the kitchen, out the back door, and up the garage steps.
Zack opened the door before I knocked. “I’ve had a really bad day,” I said, collapsing into his arms. “How about you?”
He drew me into the apartment and closed the door. “Want to talk about it?”
All of it? Did I? I knew what Zack would say about my newest side job. He’d lecture me and try to talk me out of investigating Philomena’s death. I sighed. “Not all of it, but you’ll probably wheedle it out of me anyway, so we might as well get it over with now.”
“I don’t like the sound of that.”
“Trust me. You’ll like it even less once you know more about it.”
He grabbed a bottle of Sauvignon Blanc from the refrigerator and poured two glasses, carrying them to the sofa. “Out with it,” he said.
I placed the Game Boy and the phones on the coffee table. Zack raised both eyebrows in question. “Hardly worth the effort of an explanation,” I said.
I curled up into a corner of the sofa, and accepted one of the glasses of wine. After a sip, I decided to take the coward’s way out and work backwards. “I’m surprised Mama didn’t invite you to her little shindig this evening.”
Zack sat
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