Whenever I walked into a room, she walked out.
If I spoke to her, she gave me one-word answers.
When I came for dinner, she handed me a container of leftovers and said I knew how to use a microwave.
“Are you ever going to talk to me again?”
“Humpf,” she muttered, shoving past me again to grab the oven mitts.
“Ma—”
“Don’t bother,” Pop said as he walked into the room and pulled out his chair. “That anger extends to me for some reason.”
“What did you do?” I asked, taking my usual spot.
“Not sure, but you landed me in it.”
“He didn’t land you in anything,” Ma said as she placed the casserole in the center of the table.
“Then why am I getting yelled at for something he did?”
“Because you’re a man, and all men think with the wrong head.”
She shoved the spatula into the casserole and snatched my platewith a little too much gusto. “If you would stop thinking about sex all the time, and start thinking about your future, you would still have that lovely girl right now.”
“Ma—”
“I don’t care what excuse you give. Nothing you could say would possibly explain what was going through your head.”
She plopped the dish down, sending casserole flying onto my clothes. Sighing, I grabbed a napkin and wiped off the remnants.
“And you,” she said, stabbing the spatula at Pop, “why didn’t you teach him better?”
“I didn’t teach him at all.”
“That’s precisely my point,” she snapped. “Our boys are supposed to be getting married. One of them never speaks to us, this one just dumped the best thing he had, and the other one lives in some kind of dreamland!”
“Something smells good!” Jeff shouted from the back door. “Just in time,” he grinned as he walked around the corner. “Hmm, I love it when you make your famous casserole.”
Ma grabbed the towel and slapped his hand away before he could snatch his plate. “Wash your hands. And don’t you even think about bringing a woman home unless you can prove that you can behave properly with her!”
“What did I do?” Jeff asked, shooting me a nasty look.
“You would not believe the rumors going around town.” Ma took her seat, huffing and puffing as she shifted her food around her plate. “To think that one of my boys could have such horrible things being said about him…I did not raise any of you to behave in such an ungentlemanly way.”
“He did it,” Jeff grumbled. “I don’t see why I’m getting yelled at.”
“Because you learn everything from him,” she argued.
Stabbing her fork into her casserole, she pointed it at him. “And if you think that for even one moment I will tolerate that kind of behavior—Ugh, I should have taken you to church more often. You know, that Catholic church beats you when you misbehave.”
“I’m not really into spanking,” Jeff jeered.
“I should have had all girls. There’s so much less to worry about.”
Pop laughed. “Yeah, nothing to worry you aside from teenage pregnancy.”
“Yes, but with girls, they can only get pregnant once at a time. Our boys could be out sewing their wild oats and knocking up girls left and right.”
