Dinner started off normally, except that everyone was seated before their father, who was busy bringing food from the kitchen. The empty seat at the head of the table, normally their father's, sat empty as the family waited for their perfumed parent to settle down. Finally, with a jug of juice in his hand, Roger took off his apron (when had he put that on?) and sat down.
"Dig in, everybody," he said with a proud smile on his face.
To Jon, the food smelled great. The reason his mother did most of the cooking for the family was that whenever his dad got into the kitchen, disaster struck. Not anymore, it seemed, as the aromas of fried chicken, mashed potatoes, corn on the cob wafted over to him. He wasn't sure, but he even thought he smelled brownies coming from the oven.
Food was passed around, mouths were stuffed. Zoe complained about school, Micky talked about a frog he caught. Roger asked Linda if she thought his shirt and tie made him look fat.
Well, that was different, thought Jon as he listened to his mother reassure his father about his figure.
"Oh Roger, how many times do I have to tell you," Linda's voice sounded tired, as if she'd said this a million times before, "You don't look fat. In fact, you look just as beautiful as the day we got married?"
Roger's voice was sheepish, "You're not just saying that, are you?"
"Of course not! Just like our wedding day! Remember how great it was? I remember the look on your face as I came down the aisle in my gown. Then, later, remember how everyone hooted when I took the garter off your leg with my teeth? Then after I threw the bouquet how you danced with me all night?"
"Oh, and how you carried me over the threshold that night, how could I forget," Roger gushed.
"Gawd, mom and dad, stop it," Zoe whined, "You're grossing me out!"
Linda giggled girlishly. Roger patted his daughter's hand. "Okay, okay, we'll stop," he said, "Sometimes we forget that we're not alone."
Zoe rolled her eyes, but smiled knowing her parents loved eat other. "Thanks," she said, "and dad, remember that you promised you'd help me tonight dying my hair."
Roger smiled again, "Of course, honey," his voice had gotten softer again, "Right after dinner we'll go upstairs and have some girl-time."
