We’re home before seven. Mom is pleased we’re early, though she tries to act chill. Tragically, Mom does not really do chill. She has two pizzas in the fridge, all set up and ready to bake.
“I made one the way Kermit likes it—Hawaiian with extra cheese—but the other is plain. We can put anything you like on it, Matt.” She starts listing off topping options I wouldn’t have expected us to have on hand. Did she go shopping? That would be weird.
Even when we go sit in the living room with Dad to catch up on football, she can’t stop fussing over us. Bringing drinks. Chips and salsa. A cheese plate. She’s kicked into some kind of manic hostess gear I’ve never seen before.
“Mom, relax. We’re fine.”
“Everything is great, Mrs. Sanders,” Matt confirms.
At the table, Matt sits in Sheila’s seat, because that’s the fourth chair at the table. Having that space filled is weirder than not at this point.
“Let us pray,” Dad says, laying both hands palm up on the tabletop. Mom follows suit.
Oh God. This never occurred to me. A whole beat passes before my fingers do what is expected, reaching out to grasp theirs.
Matt meets my gaze across the table as he takes my parents’ hands. Oh God. Is it possible to stare an apology?
My ears burn red as my mouth moves automatically over the pre-meal song we sing. A blessing, sung by my dad’s family before every meal for as long as anyone knows.
One corner of Matt’s mouth twitches up, but otherwise his expression is static, his attention fixed on me. Great, now he knows what my singing voice sounds like. That’s bound to be a deal-breaker.
What deal? Sheila says. There is no deal, you little chicken.
My parents bow their heads as the song ends and Dad finishes the prayer with a few spoken words, but we are unmoving, Matt and I. Our gazes entwine across the table as firmly as clasped hands in their own right. The words of prayer swirl heavy around the pizza platter and the place settings, but the two of us rise above. The usual feeling I get when we pray—that horrible, drowning feeling—never comes. I’m lifted out of it.