Chapter 15
Ali Kat
A broken wrist and three cracked ribs are what my momma earned for coming in short at around five-foot-one with cabinets six inches higher than she can reach. Something offset her balance on the counter and down she went.
We were at the hospital for nearly four hours, getting x-rays and waiting in uncomfortable chairs. Pa met us there, with a face white as a sheet and the unmistakable look of fear in his eyes. I can only hope that one day someone will care as much about me as my pa does for my ma, but at this rate, I won’t hold my breath.
Prim, who feels things stronger than any of us, has been beside herself with grief, taking blame that isn’t hers to take.
Jake is the calmest of us, stepping up and taking the instructions from the doctor when Pa proved to be too frazzled.
Garrett came to the hospital as well, flowers in hand. I went out to the vending machines, so I didn’t have to suffer his presence.
Now that we’re back at home, I’m having a hard time convincing Ma to sit her butt in a chair while I figure out how to make some kind of respectable family meal.
“My family does not eat hard, store-bought pasta, and they certainly won’t be having sauce from a jar,” Momma insists.
“Even though your wrist is broken and you cracked three ribs?”
“My family deserves more than some meal a prepper would make post-apocalypse.”
“Mom, you do realize this is what millions of working moms serve up on the daily, don’t you? Even some stay-at-homes.”
She glares at me, and I know it’s time to get to work.
I don Mother’s apron and reacquaint myself with the kitchen. “Are you sure you don’t want me to get Prim?”
“She’s quicker with the farm work than you, as is Jake. And before ya ask, yer pa is NOT allowed in my kitchen.”
“What do you expect me to make?”
“Chicken and dumplings.”
“I don’t think I’m cut out for that.”
“Hush now, and grab the flour, baking powder, pepper, salt, and thyme.”
I frown but follow her instructions, mixing the items in a bowl then adding butter and milk. Every time I show her my progress, there’s either a shocked look or a grimace on her face, which reaffirms my decision to go into acting.
When the work begins to slow, we finally have a moment to catch up.
“So, how ya likin’ it back at home?” she asks.
“It’s…nice. Really nice.”
“Been missin’ ya.”
I cock a grin. “Yeah, I missed you too.”
“By the way, you should have gone for that Shepherd boy in that one flick. The one with the dogs.”
“You’ve seen, Walk in the Park?”
“Me and yer pa watch all yer movies.”
My hand flies to cover my gaping mouth. “Oh…I thought you hated that I was acting.”
“We do, but we also miss you something terrible.”
