“Oh, Lord.”
I set it back on the table.
Right where everyone would see it.
Mom froze.
Then she did something I had never seen her do.
She pulled out a kitchen chair.
And sat down.
She didn’t touch the coffee machine.
Didn’t open the refrigerator.
Didn’t reach for eggs.
She just sat there in her pink robe with her hands folded in her lap.
Like a guest.
She looked terrified.
Fifteen minutes later, Susan came downstairs.
Already dressed for the deck.
White cover-up.
Sandals.
Sunglasses.
Hair perfect.
She walked straight to the coffee maker.
No good morning.
Nothing.
The coffee maker was empty.
Cold.
Clean.
Susan opened one cabinet.
Then another.
Then another.
“Is the coffee not on?”
Mom’s hand automatically lifted from her lap.
Toward the coffee maker.
I gently touched her wrist.
She stopped.
Susan turned.
Saw Mom sitting at the table.
Doing absolutely nothing.
“Oh.”
She looked genuinely confused.
Then she noticed the board.
She read it.
Then read it again.
Then laughed.
“What is this?”
“Weekend jobs.”
“I can see that.”
She tilted her head.
“I’m breakfast?”
“You’re breakfast.”
Her smile faded.
“You’re serious?”
“Very.”
She stared at me.
“Your mother invited us here.”
Before I could respond, Daniel came downstairs.
T-shirt.
Pajama pants.
Hair everywhere.
He stopped at the bottom step.
Read the board.
Looked at me.
Then looked at his name.
Daniel: breakfast cleanup.
Susan turned toward him.
“Apparently, I’m making breakfast.”
She said it like she expected him to laugh.
He hesitated for half a second.
Then said,
“Okay.”
Susan stared at him.
“Okay?”
“Yeah.”
Daniel pointed toward the board.
“I’ll clean afterward.”
Susan folded her arms.
