Microwave beeped. Potatoes hot and hard. Turned ‘em over. Two more minutes at least. The bagged salad was ready to eat. Salad bowls full. “Sam, get out your favorite steak sauce and salad dressing.”“Sure thing Caro ... I mean sure thing Z.”He reached for a tissue to wipe tears. Seeing him sad like that brought tears to my eyes too.“It’s a good thing I didn’t cut onions or we would be out of tissues for sure.”I was surprised to hear myself saying that. But we both laughed so no harm, no foul, I guess.The potatoes felt like they would be ready in another two-minute cycle.When the steak was done I started slicing it. “Sam, I have a California Cabernet Sauvignon in the bag. Please find some glasses for us.” He did his best imitation of a high brow sommelier.There was no sexy talk at dinner. Sam shared how his friends shared their sympathy. Awkwardly. But they at least tried.“I’ll wash, you dry. And I don’t want to get this nice apron wet. Do you mind if I take it off?”He answered with a. Mom spoke with a fake tone of enthusiasm as she climbed out, her skirt riding up to flash the top of her thigh-high stockings. She quickly shoved it down. Did Ms. Petrov make her wear those?“So, Girls, Inc.?” she asked. “I think they’ll have some cute panties that’ll work for you.”“Sure,” I said, pretending to be just as excited as she was, but I was worried for my mom. It was strange. I had never worried about her in my life. Even when Dad died, she was strong for my sisters and me. She had to hold us together.Who was there for her? How lonely must she have been at night?I took her hand, and she smiled at me. “That’s nice. You haven’t held my hand since you were a little girl.”“Oh, well, just thought it would be nice,” I said, smiling at her.For a moment, she wasn’t faking her enthusiasm. She gave me a quick kiss on the forehead, her breasts pressing into mine, then she pulled away and her true happiness vanished. That artificial joy was back in place. She squeezed me with a sweaty.
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