Pops chuckles to my right, and I can’t help doing the same. Both Ma and Ali are obsessed over this wedding; it’s all the women in this family ever talk about lately.
“Hush.” Ma waves Michael away and bows her head. We all follow suit, the room quieting down as we wait.
“Bless us, Lord. Thank you for these gifts, which we are about to receive... Including my wedding,” Ali says. She lifts her head to peek at Michael. He huffs a small laugh and shakes his head while resting his forehead on his hands. She pauses a minute, waiting for him to do or say anything, but he’s quiet. “May you stay with us through our journey and bless us along the way. Amen.”
The second she’s done, the forks are lifted and the conversation continues. Michael and Pops are talking about the game last night. I’m half listening, half trying to eat as fast as I can so I can get back home.
“I can’t believe Joseph had to work,” Ma says… again.
She’s brought it up about half a dozen times since I’ve been here. Ma has one wish, and it’s for everyone to be home on Sunday. Joseph’s a mechanic and owns his own shop. Usually it’s not a problem, but he’s been working more since little Evelyn came along.
“We need the extra money,” Cheryl says softly. There are bags under her eyes, and I can tell she’s just as tired as I am, maybe even more so. Pops motions for me to pass her the gravy, but Michael leans over the table and snatches it before I can. He’s quick with it and then hands it off to Cheryl.
That white ceramic rooster brightens her spirits as Cheryl sits straighter in the chair and pours it all over the turkey and mashed potatoes. She's practically smothering her entire plate with the gravy.
Just before she sets it down, little Miss Evie starts crying for the first time since she’s been here. Cheryl’s head whips around, and her face falls.
“No, no, no,” she says quietly. She walks over and shushes Evie softly while rocking the bassinet. She’s fucking exhausted.
“She’s still not sleeping well?” Ali asks while craning her neck to see the baby.
Cheryl presses her lips into a thin line and shakes her head. Her expression has completely fallen.
“I’ll take her,” I speak without thinking and scoot my chair out some, the legs scraping on the wooden floor and hold my hands out. Cheryl doesn’t waste a second to round the table with the little two-month-old all bundled up in her arms.
“Thank you,” she says quickly, ready to eat her dinner like it’s a race.
I’ve got a soft spot for Evie. She’s the first baby I’ve ever held and to be honest I didn’t know if I was doing it right. Her eyes are closed, and her hands are balled into little fists as Cheryl settles her on my chest. She’s so small, such a tiny little thing with hardly any weight to her. She knows how to scream though, that’s for certain.
I shush her and pat her bottom rhythmically as Cheryl takes off back to her seat and doesn’t even scoot in before grabbing her fork.
My entire body moves slightly as I bounce little Evie, trying to get her to calm down. Her cry isn’t loud like it was a moment ago and it doesn’t affect me in the least, but I know it’ll calm Cheryl down again if Evie is happy. It only takes a moment before Evie lays her head on my chest and lets out a long yawn. I watch her face as she falls back asleep and I slowly stop bouncing her.
“Oh, that’s so cute,” Ali squeals before shoveling a mouthful of potatoes in.
“Aw, it is. My oldest boy.” Ma sounds so proud, but I completely avoid her gaze. I know what’s coming next, and it’s only when she says the words that I regret offering to hold Evie.
“You need one of your own, I think,” Ma says matter-of-factly. She grabs the gravy and puts a modest amount over her turkey. I believe the rooster has made its way to everyone but me.
I have to readjust Evie slightly so I can hold her against my chest with only my left arm.
I ignore Ma and say, “It’s 'cause I’m a heater. Puts her right to sleep.”
With my right hand free, I cut the turkey with my fork and take another bite.
“You do need one,” Cheryl says. I practically choke on the turkey. I stare at her down the table, feeling like she just stabbed me in the back.
“Babies are so wonderful,” she says softly. I don’t even know how to respond she’s obviously deranged from lack of sleep.
“I’d need a wife for that. And I’m fine with the current state when it comes to that.” I grip my glass on the table and take a quick swig, feeling my body tense up before I set the glass down.
I keep my eyes on my plate, ignoring everyone else. We’ve had this conversation so many times. Over and over, for five long years. Both my sisters are younger, both moving on with their lives the way they should according to this small town.
My plans got fucked over. Literally. And Ma never fails to remind me that I need to get back on track.
“You know I saw Susanne’s mother the other day--”
I cut my mother off, feeling the frustration of just wanting to eat a damn meal in this house without talking about that woman.