Chapter 16

The grocery store is full of kids banging their toys against canned goods and end-of-aisle displays. We get the walnuts and go next door to the liquor store. “It should be French if we’re having soufflé,” Judy is saying. I look around nervously, wondering if this is the place where I pressed my ass against the window. I honestly don’t remember. We go to the French section and get a wine neither of us can pronounce. It’s good having a little time with Judy. She freaks me out a bit, a grown woman calling me “Daddy” all the time, but Judy’s always been like that. She has names for everybody. Mary was the same when she was younger. She used to call me “The Bean” because I was so skinny. My weight’s stayed pretty much the same over the years, probably because of ruffage. These days, Mary occasionally calls me “Cranky Face” because of my sunken cheeks. “How are you and Muller doing?” I ask Judy. “Any problems?”

“Like what? Why are you looking so nervous?”

“Nothing, sweetie. So everything’s fine?”

“I think so. Why, did Muller say something to you?”

“About what?”

“He seems distant these days. It’s not like him.”

“Maybe he’s not used to sleeping in the basement.”

“He says I’m putting too much pressure on him. Like the other night. I wanted to try something—”

“Keep the graphic stuff to yourself, sweetie. I’m trying to be a parent here. Let’s talk about something else.”

“How are you and Mom getting along?”

“I think she wants me to be a greeter at Lowe’s.”

“I wish Muller would find something.”

“How about a chef’s course?”

“He has a chef’s degree. Muller’s got lots of degrees. He just has to apply himself. He’s really a great cook.”

“I know he is, honey.” I keep seeing Otis’s eyes rolling back in his head.

“Will you talk to Muller, Daddy?”

“And say what?”

“He listens to you.”

“We’d better get going. Your mother needs the walnuts.”

Out by the car, I see the old couple from the paint store. The woman recognizes me. She nudges her husband. “Hello there,” she calls out. “How are you feeling?”

I push Judy towards our car like we’re in a hurry. “Just fine,” I call back.

“Who are they?” Judy says.

“I think I met them in a waiting room.”

“Are you sure you’re okay? You seem jumpy.”

“Let’s get in the car.” The old couple watch us drive way.

Turning off Canfield later, Judy says to me, “Muller should cook. He’s happy when he cooks. He’s very creative.”

“Seattle must have a lot of restaurants.”

“Stop trying to get rid of us, Daddy.”

“Sorry. I think Muller will make a great chef.”

“I liked what you did for Auntie Margot, by the way.”

I keep seeing Bisquick pecking at Margot’s boobs. “Determined little bugger, isn’t he?”

Margot kept saying. And priced accordingly.