I cursed every one of the steep stairs leading to the attic conference room. The stones were old and worn, some wobbled against the grout, and each one was a subtle suggestion for me to go home, crawl under the covers, and hide out with Will all day. After lunch at the farmers’ market and an unusually radio-silent weekend, I had no idea what to expect from everyone this morning.
“I’m going to die on those stairs,” I announced when I reached the conference room. Patrick, Sam, Matt, and Andy were already seated. “One of these days, I’m going to plummet to my death, just you wait.”
“And good morning to you too, Shannon,” Matt said.
“What exactly are you concerned about?” Patrick asked.
“Guys, I think some of these stones are loose,” Riley shouted from the staircase. He bounded into the room and dusted off his knees before sitting down. “I slipped, and dropped my burrito.” He held up a foil-wrapped cylinder. “It’s a little smashed but I think it’s still good.”
I pointed to Riley. “That. That is my concern.”
“Okay,” Patrick said, typing a note into his spreadsheet. “No one die on the stairs today, please.”
Patrick:isn’t it a little early for you to be hitting the liquor?
Shannon:there are some legitimately loose stones. I’m not drunk.
Patrick:whatever…
The meeting churned along as they always did. Matt and Sam argued about structural issues. Patrick and Andy carried on an entirely silent conversation. Riley produced a bottle of hot sauce from his pocket and proceeded to demolish his breakfast burrito. He was set on bringing increasingly obnoxious snacks since the yogurt fiasco, but the rest of us were united in ignoring it.
Without fail, we turned the corner on the final twenty minutes of our time together, and business items were traded for family discussions.
“Tiel and I are heading to New Jersey next week,” Sam said. He gestured to me, and I was suddenly curious what she mentioned about our time together this past weekend. She had plenty to work with, and those two lived under a ride-or-die honesty pact. “I know she told you on Saturday.”
“Did she say anything else?” I asked.
Sam’s forehead wrinkled and he shook his head. “No, I don’t think so. She thought it was weird that you fed Andy your avocado, and then there was something about coconut oil…but that was it. Was there something else?”
“No, nothing at all,” Andy said, and I appreciated the fuck out of her right now. “You know how I am about avocado. It’s my favorite good fat, and you can blame me for the coconut oil, too.”
“What did you do?” Patrick whispered to her. She patted his arm, smiling.
Shannon:I just want you to know, I survived the mother of all awkward conversations on Saturday and you probably owe me the biggest bottle of champagne or something sparkly because of it
Patrick:Yeah I’m beginning to understand that
Patrick:Sorry about that
“Are we doing Thanksgiving at your place?” Matt asked, pointing his coffee cup in my direction. “Is that still your show?”
Shannon:Don’t kill me
Patrick:What now
“Actually,” I started, “I won’t be around.”
Yelling was our native tongue, but when we tipped over from routinely unruly conversation into a verbal stampede, someone was always at the epicenter. There was nothing to do but ride it out. Words flew like grenades but the noise was such that the explosions often went unnoticed. It didn’t happen often, but when it did, it was always preceded by a long pause, as if everyone was drawing a deep breath, squaring up, and gathering their fighting strength.
A quick assessment of the table told me that was exactly what was happening right now.
Tick, tick, boom.
Patrick: “What? Where are you going?”
Matt: “Why do you find it necessary to wait until the last fucking moment to tell us this, Shan?”
Sam: “Too many fucking secrets around here.”
