“No,” Addie said matter-of-factly. “I want to be short like you. Dad calls you fun-sized and it’s so cute. I want my husband to call me that.”
Mom glowered at Dad like his nickname for her was responsible for Addie’s terrible eating habits.
“Don’t look at me,” he said. “I love chicken.” He stabbed another breast from the serving tray and ripped a hunk off with his teeth.
I chuckled.
“Ford!” Mom huffed. Dad swallowed and answered with a kiss to the end of her nose. She couldn’t be mad at that, so she turned her scowl on Addie. “Three more bites.”
“Mooom,” Addie whined. “You know how I feel about chicken.”
“And beef and ham and eggs,” Dad said. “And bacon,” he added as an afterthought. “What kind of weirdo doesn’t like bacon?”
“I’m not a weirdo.” Addie huffed.
“Debatable,” I coughed into my hand.
She gave me the side eye.
“You’re going to get scurvy if you keep it up.” Mom forked a piece of chicken off Addie’s plate and zoomed it toward her mouth.
Addie scowled but slowly opened, letting Mom land the food plane. She pinched her nose as she chewed.
“Really?” Mom said. “So rude.”
Addie gagged, her cheeks chipmunking, her stomach convulsing.
“Don’t you throw up, young lady,” Dad ordered.
He had a personal vendetta against vomit ever since the time Liam and I had a sleepover and Liam puked off the top of my bunk bed in the middle of the night. It splattered everywhere. The carpet, the dresser, the walls…on me. It had taken hours of elbow grease and a professional carpet cleaner to right that wrong.
“I can’t help it,” Addie said around the poultry pouch in her cheek. “I just keep thinking about the Fat Lady.” Our plumpest laying hen. “And how it might’ve been one of her babies. Or her brother.” Her bottom lip curled, letting a droplet of chicken-flavored saliva slide out of the corner of her mouth. “I mean, how do you think I would feel if someone cooked Cash on the grill and ate him with a side of rice?” She looked at me longingly. But she was turning a little green. She jerked, her legs kicking out as she dry-heaved. And then, a loud belch shot out of her nose right before she puked all over the Williams Sonoma dinner plate, spattering onto the tablecloth.
Mom threw her hands up. “Oh, good grief.”
“Well.” I scooted away. “I’m not hungry anymore.”
I guess Dad loved Addie more than he cared about the vendetta because he hurried over, knelt down and rubbed circles against her back.
“Ford,” Mom scolded. “Do not coddle that child. She’s playing us and you’re falling for it. She just got out of eating her dinner. And you know good and well that she’ll be asking for a PB and J in an hour.”
He shrugged. “She gets it honest. My grandpa was the same way. Said he kept thinking about how the meat had been a real live animal.” Dad had a twinkle in his eye. “Hard nose,” he said to Mom.
“Somebody has to be. You’d do anything that girl wanted. Next you’ll be offering to go vegetarian with her.” She pointed her fork at Dad. “I am not giving up steak. So don’t even ask.”
“Ditto.” I pushed back from the table and walked to the trash receptacle located in the island to scrape my plate.
Addie groaned. “If I eat another bite, I’ll actually die.” She reached for Dad dramatically. “Please tell my stuffed animals goodbye.”
“Oh my gosh.” I laughed.
Mom tisked. “You can be excused but you’re rinsing your plate and putting it in the dishwasher. Also, I need you to run up to Charlie’s room and get the clothes she was wearing today. They had some flecks of manure on them and I want to see if I can get them out.”
“Good luck with that,” Dad said.
Addie had her plate rinsed and put in the dishwasher in twenty seconds. She raced up the stairs to Charlie’s room, no worse for the wear.
I started clearing the table.
