Erika
The smell of the meatloaf in the oven fills the kitchen as I chop cucumbers for the salad that will be the green element of our dinner tonight. My mother raised me to always add a green element to dinner. Even though it’s a guarantee that Hannah will pick it off her plate with her thumb and forefinger and look at it like it’s dog poop. And Liam might also. Actually, it’s fifty-fifty that Jason will too.
Still, you have to have a green element.
The front door slams shut, which means Jason is home from work. Right on time. He’s removed his shoes by the door—getting him to do that was a victory that was hard won. He wanders into the kitchen, looking pretty dang handsome in his shirt and tie. He offers me a crooked smile. “Smells good.”
“Meatloaf.”
He joins me at the counter and looks down at the cucumber I’m chopping. “Funny. It doesn’t look like meatloaf.”
I roll my eyes and nudge him with my shoulder. “It’s in the oven. Five more minutes on the timer.”
He walks over to the oven and throws it open to peer at the meatloaf inside. I hate it when he does that because it disrupts the cooking process, but I grudgingly appreciate that he likes my cooking so much that he has to witness it in progress.
“How was traffic?” I ask. I still don’t know how he can brave the commute from Manhattan to Long Island during rush hour and keep a smile on his face. Five minutes on the Long Island Expressway and I’m crabby all day.
“Not bad.” He sticks his thumb into his tie to loosen it. “Can I help with chopping?”
I snort. Jason is good with computers, but cooking is definitely not his thing. When he’s chopping vegetables, he’s just as likely to slice off a
chunk of his finger—I’d rather not have blood all over my salad. “That’s okay.”
“What?” He points at the tomato on the counter. “I could chop that up for you.”
“Hmm. Could you?”
“Sure. I have great knife skills or whatever.” When I give him a look, he grins at me. “Come on. It’s just for our dinner. It’s not like we’re entering the salad in a salad competition.”
“How about you set the table?” “Your wish is my command, m’lady.”
I roll my eyes. “Can you yell for Hannah and Liam to come down first?”
“You got it.”
Jason pulls his tie the rest of the way off as he wanders over to the staircase to yell for the kids to come down for dinner. Then he obediently comes back to the kitchen to set the table. He’s being a five-star husband tonight.
“Did you have a good day at work today?” I say as I start chopping the tomato.
He nods eagerly. “The team is making great progress. Everyone is working really hard, and we’re going to have a new product soon. It’s exciting.”
Jason explained to me some of the software they’re building, and I don’t entirely understand it. He is definitely some kind of genius. It’s a bit intimidating, because I’m definitely not a genius, but after twenty years of marriage, I don’t feel insecure about that anymore. At least it means we can afford a nice house and nice cars. And maybe if he gets some time off, we can take a nice vacation as a family.
Hannah wanders into the kitchen in her bare feet just as the timer goes off for the meatloaf. Jason makes a big deal out of how delicious it looks, but Hannah just crinkles her nose. She glares at the gray mound, glistening with tomato sauce and its own juices. “We’re not eating that, are we?”
“Of course not,” Jason says. “That’s our new TV. What would you like to watch?”
“Dad,” she groans. She narrows her eyes at the dinner I just spent the last hour cooking. “It’s just so… meaty. It’s like this big hunk of meat.”
“Yes, Hannah. That’s the definition of a meatloaf.”
She sinks into one of the chairs at the kitchen table. “I’d rather have chicken.”
“Well, I’d rather be in the Bahamas.” Jason shrugs. “We don’t always get what we want. Sometimes you have to do horrible things like eat delicious meatloaf.”
I smile to myself as I continue chopping the tomato. “Where is Liam?
Can somebody tell him to come down?”
Hannah takes out her phone and start thumbing through her text messages. “Liam isn’t home.”
What? “He isn’t?” I try to keep the tremor out of my voice. “Where is
he?”
“I don’t know. Track practice? What’s the big deal? It’s not that late.”
I glance out the window, where the sun has already dipped in the sky.
“The sun is down.”
“So?” Hannah keeps her eyes on her phone. “He probably went to eat somewhere with his friends or something. Why are you freaking out?”
“I’m not freaking out.”
But she’s right. I am freaking out. I look over at Jason, who doesn’t seem even the slightest bit concerned that Liam is not home. Which makes sense, because our son is sixteen years old and practically driving. He can be responsible for himself. He’s not even late yet. He’s come home at this time before.
But it’s not Liam I’m worried about.
My hands are shaking so badly that I slip with the knife and the blade goes right into my left index finger. Blood immediately pools all over the cutting board.
“Geez, Erika!” Jason winces and goes for the paper towels. He grabs two squares and thrusts them in my direction. “Are you okay? That looks like a bad cut.”
I press the paper towels against my finger, and they immediately saturate with crimson. But the cut on my finger is the least of my concerns. Where is Liam? All I can think about is Olivia Reynolds. What if he’s with her?
What is he doing to her?
I hope Frank hurries up and does his damn job.
“Erika!” Jason’s voice cuts into my thoughts. “That’s really bleeding a lot. Maybe we should go to the emergency room…”
“No!” The word comes out too loudly and Jason blinks at me. I clear my throat. “It’s fine. Really. I just bleed a lot.”
Jason tries to smile, but he looks pale. “And you were worried about
me chopping the tomatoes…”
The front door slams, and I let out a breath. Liam is home. Thank God.
My son stomps into the kitchen, still wearing his sneakers that have now tracked dirt all over the carpet and the kitchen floor. I’ve yelled at him for that many times before, but I’m not going to freak out over it right now. I’m just glad he’s home.
“Mom was worried about you,” Hannah speaks up before I can pretend the opposite is true.
“You were?” Liam looks surprised. “I just went out to Charlie’s with some of my friends from track. You just said to be home by seven. Right?” He looks down at his watch. “I’m not late.”
“No, it’s fine.” I grab another paper towel from the counter to replace the one that’s drenched in my blood. “Did you have fun?”
Liam shrugs. “Sure.”
The blood seems to have slowed down, which is a good thing. I was beginning to worry I needed stitches. I’ve never had stitches before, except for during childbirth. “Was it just the guys from track? Or were there girls there?”
I try to say it casually, hoping he might let something slip. But given the way Jason smirks at me, I don’t think I was successful.
Liam goes to the cupboard to grab some glasses, which Jason forgot when he was setting the table. Liam has set the table many more times than Jason has. “It was just the guys.”
Jason laughs. “He probably wouldn’t tell us if it wasn’t.” He probably wouldn’t. And that’s exactly what I’m afraid of.
