Family dinners were always on Sunday. I’d missed many of them when I became a time traveler. The full moon didn’t care that my family held dinner on Sunday. I had to make a choice. Help save the world or have pot roast with my parents.
“Of course.” I tried to sound confident, like I had planned to go.
He cut his eyes at me. “You forgot.”
I glanced down at my empty coffee cup.
“Before you run off on another dangerous ocean adventure, you should see the parents. Dad’s smoking a brisket, and that means mom’s potato salad and baked beans with those tiny pieces of pineapple.”
It also meant homemade chocolate cake for dessert. My stomach grumbled.
“You’re thinking about the chocolate cake, right?” Eli grinned, and his dimple cut deep into his cheek.
Eli rarely ate what Gertie called the three F’s: fast food, fried food, and feel-the-fuck better food. The last one included ice cream, moon pies, and anything with the word chocolate in the ingredients. But he loved my mom’s cooking. Everyone loved Mom’s cooking. It wasn’t uncommon to have a houseful on Sunday afternoon for what my dad dubbed “Linner,” or lunch and dinner rolled into one.
“Yeah. I’ll be there. Tell Mom I’m bringing Gertie.”
“What about the Scot?” Eli stood and moved the top of the traction table back into position. “I saw him at Uncle Durr’s wedding.”
“He’s working.”
The bell rang on the front door, signaling patients had arrived. “Time for work.” I slid off the table and threw my cup in the trash.
Eli tested the table. It made a whirring noise. The roller began moving horizontally up and down the table. “That ought to do it.” He picked up his tools. “Let’s get crackin’.”
I finishedmy last ultrasound for the day—-a sturdy woman who worked a farm and had five kids under ten. Rubbing a wand over someone’s butt wasn’t exactly the most glamorous job in the world, but the patient swore it made her feel better.
“Thanks. Between you and Dr. Cloud’s adjustment, I’m right as rain until next month. It’s from milking the cow. All that leaning over business makes my ishies hurt,” she said, sliding off the therapy table and buttoning her jeans.
“My pleasure.” Lordy, I never want my ishies to hurt, whatever that is. I initialed her chart, walked her out to the checkout area, and waved to Mary. She pointed at her watch and made the clock-out sign.
I gave her a salute.
Paulina stopped me on the way out. “I heard you were off next week for a romantic rendezvous with your Scottish boyfriend.”
“Yeah. We don’t see each other often.” Not a total lie.
“I want to hear all the details.” She winked at me as I walked away. “See ya when you get back.”
“I hope so,” I called to her.
Her eyes widened with a look of questionable concern.
“I mean, see you too.”
“Hey Jen,” Eli caught up with me at my car. “I forgot to tell you, Cousin Darryl is coming to linner on Sunday. He’s got a special announcement and wants to tell the family.”
My palms went clammy. “Oh jeez, he’s not proposing to Ragina, is he?”
Ragina, whose name is pronounced like vagina and Gertie sometimes calls her that, was my arch nemesis in high school. She’d sprayed Stickum on the toilet seats, stolen my boyfriend, put half-eaten cherry Gummy Bears on my chair the day I wore white pants, and shared her lunch of special delivery pizza with everyone except me.
Her helicopter parents brought her fast food every day for lunch. Eating a soggy PB&J when there’s a scent of a giant pepperoni with extra cheese drifting down the cafeteria table from you was depressing. She’s currently dating my cousin Darryl and making every day miserable for me.
Eli’s face showed surprise. “Darryl’s got single guy syndrome. He always says he’s not cut out to be married. Why would he propose?”
I eyed my brother with an isn’t-it-obvious glare. “She’s not putting out. She’s withholding sex from him. He was complaining about it yesterday. Now he’s going to do something stupid.”
“Maybe they have more in common than you think.” Eli shrugged with his palms up.