Chapter 4 - THE ARRIVAL OF THE HOLLOW BELLIES
Saturday at exactly one o'clock,
the doorbell rang with its usual,
demanding chime.
Scott’s mother,
Pamela,
marched in first,
carrying her oversized designer bag which everyone knew was already packed with empty plastic containers.
Behind her came Greg and Alicia,
looking hungry,
and their three children who immediately began running toward the kitchen.
Something smells...
different,
Pamela said,
her nose wrinkling as she stepped into the foyer.
It’s a new recipe,
Scott stammered,
wiping sweat from his brow.
Jenna appeared from the hallway,
dressed in a stunning silk jumpsuit,
looking relaxed and beautiful.
She held a single glass of chilled white wine and waved a casual hand at the guests.
Hello,
everyone,
she said,
her voice full of warmth.
I'm so glad you're here to support Scott in his new venture.
Pamela looked confused.
What venture?
Scott’s new independence,
Jenna explained,
taking a graceful sip of her wine.
He’s taking full responsibility for the household and the hospitality now.
I’m just a guest today,
just like all of you,
she added,
leaning against the counter.
The family moved into the dining room,
where the table was set with mismatched plates and paper napkins.
The centerpiece,
usually a floral arrangement from a local boutique,
was missing.
Scott brought out the "roast,"
which looked more like a grey,
shrunken brick of leather.
He served a side of overboiled potatoes and a salad that was mostly iceberg lettuce.
Pamela stared at her plate as if he had served her a piece of the sidewalk.
Scott,
where is the honey-glazed ham?
she asked,
her voice sharp.
And where are the homemade rolls Jenna always makes?
Scott looked at the floor,
his face burning.
I...
I'm handling the budget now,
Mom,
he whispered.
Jenna spoke up from the head of the table,
where she sat with nothing but her wine.
Scott felt that it was important we each pay our own way,
Pamela,
she said,
her eyes twinkling.
He didn't want to take advantage of me anymore,
so he’s providing this meal entirely from his own hard-earned salary.
Isn't that what you suggested last week?
Financial independence in marriage?
May you like
The silence that fell over the room was so thick it could have been sliced with a knife,
though the roast certainly couldn't be.
