slightly dimmed when Melissa appeared to be considering my questions, shook her head slightly at my ignorance and reclaimed center stage. “You can’t just serve everyone a lasagna, Alison,” she instructed. Any moment and her voice would enter a Julia Child–like upper register. “We will be having a roast chicken, as well.”
I hadn’t seen any such chicken in any stage of preparation, but I kept my mouth shut, reminding myself that I had, literally, asked for this. “Sorry,” I said. “What’d I miss that might be on the final?”
Mom proceeded to hit the rewind button and start from the beginning, and to my surprise, Melissa did not look the least bit annoyed at me for causing the reiteration. I pulled over a barstool from the center island, where we usually eat the dinner I’ve “prepared” (by way of calling for its delivery) and folded my hands in my lap. I’d be the best little girl in class, not counting my daughter.
For the next twenty minutes, I went through basic training on lasagna (it turned out that the roast chicken—which had been prepared with lemon and parsley, in case anyone ever asks—had just gone into the oven). There were, in fact, questions along the way, but I was so attentive that I didn’t even have to take notes. Of course, I’d also turned on the voice recorder in my tote bag so I could refer back to Mom’s lecture if I was ever foolish enough to try doing this myself.
“Cooking isn’t really that hard at all,” Mom concluded eventually, placing the lasagna in the oven and letting out the aroma of the roast chicken. “Even if you’re not inclined to try things on your own, you can always just follow the instructions in a good cookbook, and if you do exactly what you’re told, you can come up with a very good result.”
I’m not sure how much of this was intended to be a life lesson rather than a cooking symposium, but I was mostly getting hungry. Luckily, the back door opened then and Jeannie trundled herself, her husband and their eight-month-old son, Oliver, into my kitchen, sniffed the air and said, “Mrs. Kerby, you’ve outdone yourself!”
My best friend, ladies and gentlemen.
Melissa immediately got up to try and pry Oliver from Jeannie’s arms, but the car seat into which he was still buckled was an impediment, as was Jeannie’s reluctance ever to let anybody—including Tony—other than herself see to her son’s needs. Things had loosened up a little since Jeannie had gone back to work, but when she was “on duty,” it would take a crowbar and a pretty strong back to get Oliver away. Still, Liss is determined and resourceful. Shortly thereafter, Josh arrived. He gets to the house later than everyone else because he has to close the store, then go home and change into what he calls paint-free clothing before heading out.
Over the past few months we had become a congenial group, but one that was still in the process of defining itself (in part because one half of the group didn’t know that the other half existed). It didn’t get any easier when I took Tony and Josh to the game room—which Josh had pondered with me a few times before—where Maxie and Dad were already discussing possibilities. To my horror, Dad seemed to be taking Maxie seriously. Had I no confederates in this house anymore?
“It’s the right size and configuration,” my father was saying, pushing his hat—a sharp Frank Sinatra style that Brooklyn hipsters think is their own—back on his head. “It’s a possibility.”
The worst part was I couldn’t say anything to Dad or Maxie, because Josh was there. Tony would have understood, Jeannie would have ignored me, and everyone else was in on the ghost thing.
Clearly, that meant I wasn’t being fair to Josh. But I realized as I thought about it that my stomach was clenching, and I’d have to take the time to think about that later when I was alone.
As if you could ever be alone in this house.
“It’s not like I
I hadn’t seen any such chicken in any stage of preparation, but I kept my mouth shut, reminding myself that I had, literally, asked for this. “Sorry,” I said. “What’d I miss that might be on the final?”
Mom proceeded to hit the rewind button and start from the beginning, and to my surprise, Melissa did not look the least bit annoyed at me for causing the reiteration. I pulled over a barstool from the center island, where we usually eat the dinner I’ve “prepared” (by way of calling for its delivery) and folded my hands in my lap. I’d be the best little girl in class, not counting my daughter.
For the next twenty minutes, I went through basic training on lasagna (it turned out that the roast chicken—which had been prepared with lemon and parsley, in case anyone ever asks—had just gone into the oven). There were, in fact, questions along the way, but I was so attentive that I didn’t even have to take notes. Of course, I’d also turned on the voice recorder in my tote bag so I could refer back to Mom’s lecture if I was ever foolish enough to try doing this myself.
“Cooking isn’t really that hard at all,” Mom concluded eventually, placing the lasagna in the oven and letting out the aroma of the roast chicken. “Even if you’re not inclined to try things on your own, you can always just follow the instructions in a good cookbook, and if you do exactly what you’re told, you can come up with a very good result.”
I’m not sure how much of this was intended to be a life lesson rather than a cooking symposium, but I was mostly getting hungry. Luckily, the back door opened then and Jeannie trundled herself, her husband and their eight-month-old son, Oliver, into my kitchen, sniffed the air and said, “Mrs. Kerby, you’ve outdone yourself!”
My best friend, ladies and gentlemen.
Melissa immediately got up to try and pry Oliver from Jeannie’s arms, but the car seat into which he was still buckled was an impediment, as was Jeannie’s reluctance ever to let anybody—including Tony—other than herself see to her son’s needs. Things had loosened up a little since Jeannie had gone back to work, but when she was “on duty,” it would take a crowbar and a pretty strong back to get Oliver away. Still, Liss is determined and resourceful. Shortly thereafter, Josh arrived. He gets to the house later than everyone else because he has to close the store, then go home and change into what he calls paint-free clothing before heading out.
Over the past few months we had become a congenial group, but one that was still in the process of defining itself (in part because one half of the group didn’t know that the other half existed). It didn’t get any easier when I took Tony and Josh to the game room—which Josh had pondered with me a few times before—where Maxie and Dad were already discussing possibilities. To my horror, Dad seemed to be taking Maxie seriously. Had I no confederates in this house anymore?
“It’s the right size and configuration,” my father was saying, pushing his hat—a sharp Frank Sinatra style that Brooklyn hipsters think is their own—back on his head. “It’s a possibility.”
The worst part was I couldn’t say anything to Dad or Maxie, because Josh was there. Tony would have understood, Jeannie would have ignored me, and everyone else was in on the ghost thing.
Clearly, that meant I wasn’t being fair to Josh. But I realized as I thought about it that my stomach was clenching, and I’d have to take the time to think about that later when I was alone.
As if you could ever be alone in this house.
“It’s not like I
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