Apples Never Fall

“Yes,” she said to Troy. “You’re right. You have to say yes. It’s the right thing to do.”

“Well, I don’t know,” began Stan uneasily.

“It’s the right thing to do,” Joy hissed at him.

He shut up.

Yes, this was the right thing to do, but it was also the wrong thing.

What if this child, this dear little redheaded child who she already loved but might never meet, turned out to be Joy’s only grandchild?

She said suddenly, “Maybe you should all go home now.”

Everyone stared at her.

“I’m not feeling the best,” she said. “I feel like I’m coming down with something.”

All of a sudden she recognized the combination of symptoms she’d been experiencing for the last few days. What a foolish old woman she was. She had a damned UTI, just like the one she had on her honeymoon, because of the recent unusual sexual activity.

Now she was furious with Stan, sitting there like a silent, stupid monolith at the end of the table with his balloon, contributing nothing except a UTI! At her age! She picked up her glass and took a long drink of water, although that ship had clearly sailed. She needed antibiotics, and it was Sunday, so she couldn’t go to her lovely GP, Susan, she’d have to go to a medical center, and she’d have to tell a kid straight out of medical school about her sex life.

“Dammit to hell,” she said to Stan.

“Eh?” said Stan. “Why are you looking at me? What did I do?”

“Well, for one thing, you killed Dennis Christos!!” she said, and it was so strange because she hadn’t even been thinking about poor Dennis, what with everything that was going on, but the accusation had been sitting there these past six months, ready and waiting in her subconscious for just the perfect moment.

“Dennis Christos died of a heart attack!” Stan responded instantly, without any confusion at all, conclusive proof of his guilt.

“You made him think he was going to break your serve and his poor heart couldn’t handle it!”

“He could not really have believed he was going to break my serve,” scoffed Stan.

“You let the game get to love–forty!” cried Joy.

“Well, I’m sorry,” said Stan, sounding not at all sorry.

“Don’t apologize to me! Apologize to poor grieving Debbie Christos!”

“Never admit liability, Dad,” said Troy. “That’s my tip.”

“I bet it is,” said Logan.

“Dennis Christos once made a very inappropriate remark to me,” commented Amy. “If that makes you feel any better, Mum. Very inappropriate.”

“Should we give Dad our gifts before we go?” asked Brooke anxiously.

“What have I done wrong?” The words exploded from Joy without her permission.

“You haven’t done anything wrong, Mum,” said Amy soothingly.

“Then how is it that not a single one of you can maintain a long-term relationship? Did your father and I not set a good example to you? Of a good marriage?”

Her children all dropped their heads as if she’d called for volunteers for an unpleasant task.

“So your dad and I weren’t perfect,” she said. “But, well, we weren’t that bad, were we? Are you punishing us for something? For what? For making you play tennis? We did not make you play tennis! Never! You loved tennis! You were all so talented!”

“We’re not punishing you,” said Troy. “That’s crazy talk, Mum.”