The meatloaf sat in the middle of Barbara’s dining table like something everyone had agreed to tolerate. Steam curled off it in tired little spirals. The mashed potatoes were lumpy. The overhead light buzzed in that old ranch house way, making everything look a little yellow and a little mean.
I cut a small piece for my daughter Ellie and set it on her plate. “Eat up, sweetheart,” I said softly. She nodded.
Ellie was eight years old, all long limbs and cautious smiles, with hazel eyes that looked so much like her mother’s that some days I had to look away before grief found me in public. Leah’s eyes. Leah’s patience. Leah’s habit of trying to make everybody comfortable even when the room did not deserve it.
My wife had been gone three years. Cancer took her slowly, then all at once. In the hospital, when her hand was small and cold in mine, she made me promise one thing I did not want to promise: “Take care of my mother,” she whispered.
So I did. Every Sunday, I drove Ellie twenty minutes to Barbara’s house in Crestwood, North Carolina. Every Sunday, I sat at that table and swallowed overcooked food, sharp comments, and the feeling that my wife had left me with a duty that Barbara did not deserve.
Barbara Hutchkins sat at the head of the table like a judge. Gray hair pinned tight. Mouth tighter. Her good china arranged around us with faded pink roses on the rims. Across from me sat Leah’s younger brother, Tom, eating like discomfort was something he could chew through. His wife Jennifer barely touched her salad and avoided everyone’s eyes. That was the routine. Nobody challenged Barbara. Nobody wanted the smoke.
Ellie poked at her potatoes with her fork. Jennifer tried to fill the silence. “How’s school going, Ellie?”
“It’s good,” Ellie said quietly. “We’re learning fractions.”
“That’s wonderful,” Jennifer said, already glancing back at her phone.
Then Barbara spoke. “Your cousins were here last weekend.” I felt something in me tighten before she even finished the sentence. “Emily and Rachel,” Barbara continued, nodding toward Tom and Jennifer. “Such beautiful girls. Emily already won two pageants this year.”