“Yes,” I said, and looked again at Mother.
Despite how nice she looked, she was staring ahead with a vacant expression, her eyes avoiding me. Mrs. Lofter was encouraging her to have some wonton soup.
“I fell asleep,” I said, sliding into my usual seat.
Mother finally looked at me and smiled. “So did Kaylee,” she said.
“What?”
I grimaced when I saw a place setting at Kaylee’s seat. If they put food on her dish, I’ll go absolutely bonkers myself, I thought. Maybe Mrs. Lofter could hear my thoughts. She focused those eyes of warning on me.
Mother turned to her, a broad smile settling on her face. It looked like tiny flashlights had been turned on behind her eyes, too. “Ever since they were born, they took naps at exactly the same time,” she told Mrs. Lofter, “and woke up at the same time, even when they were in different rooms.”
“Remarkable,” Mrs. Lofter said.
“Yes, it is. They are,” Mother said. She ate some soup.
Couldn’t she see that Kaylee wasn’t here?
Daddy began to bring in the food. “It’s a feast,” he said. “I got that sweet-and-sour shrimp dish you like and egg rolls and steamed rice. There’s chicken with snow peas, beef with broccoli, and some egg foo young, pot stickers, lettuce wraps . . .”
“So much?”
“Tomorrow we’ll eat for lunch whatever we don’t eat tonight.” He put a cup of Coke on the table beside me and whispered, “Coca-Cola.” Mother never wanted us to drink soda because of the sugar, but he knew that I, more than Kaylee, loved it, especially Classic Coke. “Well, now,” he declared, slapping his hands together. “Let’s get down to some serious eating.”
This was so weird to me. It was as if nothing had happened to Kaylee, and Mother and Daddy hadn’t ever divorced. Daddy sat where he always had sat.
Mrs. Lofter began to serve herself. “It all looks so delicious,” she said, and smiled at me.
I looked from Mother to Daddy, shook my head slightly, and began to eat.
The phone rang, and we all paused—all except Mother, who didn’t appear to have heard it. Perhaps she was hearing conversations from years ago, I thought. She wore a familiar soft smile, like the smile she would have whenever Kaylee and I had done or said something that pleased her, especially if we had done or said it in front of other people at a dinner here or in a restaurant.
Daddy went to the phone. Mrs. Lofter and I paused to listen, but Mother went on eating, looking as relaxed and casual as I had ever seen her.
“Thank you,” Daddy said after a good minute or so. “We appreciate your keeping us informed.”
He looked at Mother and Mrs. Lofter and then returned to the table and began to eat as if there had never been a phone call.
“Tell you later,” he whispered, gazing at Mother, who had finished her soup and reached for an egg roll.
“My girls have perfect table manners. That was part of their homeschooling, you know,” she told Mrs. Lofter, who smiled and
nodded.
“Very unusual these days,” Mrs. Lofter said. “Most parents don’t have good table manners.”
“Oh, I know. I remember the first time we took them for Chinese food,” Mother said. “You ordered four different dishes, remember, Mason? There was so much food then, too.”
“Yes, Keri.”
She turned back to Mrs. Lofter. Who did she think Mrs. Lofter was, and why did she think she was here? I wondered.
“It was their first time at a Chinese restaurant. We wanted to see what they liked or didn’t like. Neither of them liked fried rice, and both hated peanut sauce. Remember, Mason?”
“I do,” he said. “We took a lot home for the next day, most of which you and I ate.”
I remembered that dinner. I loved peanut sauce, but I had to pretend that I hated it because Kaylee did. However, the next time we went to a Chinese restaurant, I made her eat the corn soup. I wasn’t terribly fond of it, but I knew she didn’t like it at all.