“Mrs. G, we’re heeeerrrreeee,” Syd yells.
I push out of my hug and look up at my mother.
“What else are you keeping from me, woman?” I ask.
She smiles and my hair stands up.
“Go downstairs and greet our guests. I’ve gotta change my shirt.” She points to a red blotch on the hemline and I imagine her beneath the cherry Slurpee nozzle, mouth open, head back.
Guests? Syd doesn’t count as a guest. I crane my neck around the hallway corner and try to see down the stairs as I navigate downward, but they’ve moved on. I arrive in the kitchen just in time to hear Meredith telling Syd that she had to saw through a sternum today. Syd’s eyes are so wide. Awe is dripping from her bottom lip.
“Devon!” Syd wraps her arms around me then releases just as quickly and barks, “Sit!”
Kevin stands and gives me a look that I got from my teacher in elementary school when I put the chicks in the class toilet to go for a swim. I’m in trouble. I swerve for the fridge and grab another beer before circling back around and heading to the chair Kev pulled out between him and Mer. My mother’s seat at the head of the table is left empty and waiting. The queen’s chair. I slide into the pauper’s chair and meet Kev’s clear blue gaze for a long second before he looks away and pats me on the back. A pity pat.
“So, to what do I owe the pleasure of this little visit? Saturday dinners usually happen on a Saturday not a?—”
“Alright, so first, thank you all for coming,” my mother says as she breezes into the kitchen and slips into her throne. “I promise to wine and dine you after this?—”
“What isthis?” My voice no longer belies my suspicion, and Meredith’s hand gives my thigh a reassuring squeeze. Which makes my suspicion worse.
“This is your idea, honey.”
I have many great ideas. Edible Chapstick. Magnetic wallpaper. Disposable vibrators. I can’t keep track.
Luckily, Syd clarifies, “An emotional intervention.”
I shake my head. “Firstly, I did not come up with the idea of emotional interventions. And secondly, aw hell no.” I start to stand.
“Sit down, Devon Michelle.”
Ugh. The middle name. I sit with a juvenile harrumph. Syd mouths my middle name to Meredith who nods sadly.
“Mr. Gallagher had a thing for Grease 2 and Michelle Pfeiffer,” Mer explains.
My mother begins, “So, we are gathered here today?—”
“You forgot ‘dearly beloved.’ Can we get a bottle of wine opened first?” I sip my beer.
“—to help Devon understand that she has a problem. And, hopefully, give her a plan to move forward.”
Sweet Giuseppe. We are doing this.
“Who would like to start?” my mother asks.
I raise my hand. She ignores me and chooses Mer. I note how that feels so I don’t do it to my students. Meredith swivels in her chair so she is looking right at me. My heart skitters left then swerves right.
“Alright, here we go. Devon—” She pushes her lips together, and I can see her mouth rebelling against whatever she’s about to say. “You are my dearest friend and I love you very, very much. So you need to stop being a complete ass?—”
“Remember, Mer. ‘I’ statements,” my mother corrects.
“Right. I can no longer sit by and watch you be a complete ass.”
I lift my brows waiting for my mother to correct her obvious misuse of an I statement. Mom just folds her hand in front of her and nods.
“You have found someone who you want to sleep with more than four times,” Mer continues. I give her a warning look and incline my head toward Syd. Young ears. Syd rolls her eyes. “And you are pissing it away because of your fear.”
“I statements?—”
