Page 130 of Massacre Monday
“No,” she says, as if reading my mind, staring at her pages without looking at me.
“You know that word only makes me rabid.”
“Dad, seriously. We have a guest,” Ryan interrupts me from ravishing my wife…like he’s done his whole fucking life.
“She’s not a guest now. She’s family,” I grumble, but Marissa stands and greets her with a giant hug.
“So glad you made it. Come sit and eat,” she says, and Pippi smiles shyly.
I give her a nod. “Yes, I am glad. You’re good for Ryan.”
Since she’s entered his life, I’ve noticed how he’s able to conform without losing his spark. They’ve been attending family dinners, and he seems to enjoy them now. She’s the stones around his firepit. Letting him rage and burn but not venture where it may be dangerous. My son’s appointed hasn’t softened him, only turned him into a sharpened weapon. I can see it. Every time we’ve discussed future battle plans. He’s wiser now. Less ready to rush in headfirst. More calculated.
And I believe that’s all due to Miss Pippi Freidenberg.
My son tosses an arm over her protectively and leads her to the table.
When we’re all seated and everyone has been served, I shovel in my food while eyeing my wife carefully. The moment she’s finished, I’m pulling her aside. As soon as we get Alice out of this house…I’ll convince her to have another baby.
“Pippi, how do you like the fact that Ryan takes two hours in the bathroom, and then it’s disgusting when he’s done?” Alice says with a smirk.
Ryan throws a roll at her head.
“Alice!” Marissa says, acting as if she’s shocked our youngest is not known for this very behavior.
Pippi contains a giggle. “I guess I’ve gotten used to it.”
Henry snorts. “And you’re still choosing to marry him.”
Pippi’s face grows red beneath her beige skin. “If he asks me, I’ll say yes.”
I glance over at my oldest, and he meets me with some wide eyes. Why hasn’t he proposed? I know he has his grandmother’s ring, the one I gave to Marissa. But after ten years, then twenty, I upgraded it twice. Now, Ryan can pass it to his son when the time comes.
“I propose a toast to our newest member of the family. Pippi, you are a perfect match for my son. You have somehow managed to keep him alive for a few months already. His mother and I are done trying. It’s your job now. Congrats!”
Pippi beams, and Marissa looks a bit relieved. The boy has done everything to try both of us throughout his life. Climbing on top of the cabinets at three. Jumping into the lake on his own at four. Popping wheelies on his bike at five. Sneaking off to sky dive alone at twelve and somehow convincing them he was old enough. It’s a fucking miracle he’s with us today.
Everyone in my family raises their glasses and cheers to the addition at the table. Ryan gives her a quick peck on the cheek,and Marissa and I lock eyes. Yep, there they are. The tears I was waiting for her to spring.
Another hour and I’ll have her alone.
Olivia pipes in between sips of her wine. “You bring out the best in him. I think he needs that more than he knows.” She’s drinking more than she normally does, and I snatch a glance at my wife to see if she’s noticed. Fortunately, she hasn’t.
Olivia’s been quieter lately. And now this? I’ve seen that kind of crushing weight before—women buckling under it, smiling while they drown. My daughter’s not one to be open with her feelings. And something is brewing just under her surface.
“Idoknow,” Ryan says, throwing his arm over the back of Pippi’s chair.
Clearing my throat, I address my oldest daughter. “Next weekend. Up for another political rally, my beautiful girl?”
Her eyes widen for a moment. What’sthatabout?
“Um, I can’t. I’m sorry, Dad. I have plans already.”
“Plans… You can’t make it to the president’s house?”
Marissa darts her eyes between the two of us.
Olivia takes another gulp. “Sorry,Omegaduties call!”
