3
They both heard Christina shuffling down the stairs.
“Oh, am I interrupting?” she asked as she looked up, absently fastening her robe. Her hair was disheveled, and one side of her face was lined with a pink crease.
“No, not really.”
“Well,” Phil said, Sybill’s phone still in his hand: “If you could just give us a moment…”
“No, there’s no need,” Sybill said, holding out her arms. “Come here, my darling.” They embraced and Phil turned away. He put the phone on the counter and pulled the pot back onto the glowing burner.
“If you’re expecting Paulo down anytime soon, I’ve saved you both some bacon,” he called out over his shoulder. Blinking in the steam, he lifted a large sieve-full of lentils out of the sink and poured it into the steel pot.
The women remained in a still embrace. Sybill’s eyes were closed; they were almost the same height, but her head was tucked into the crook of Christina’s neck.
“He should be coming down soon, I expect,” Christina said. “But I wanted to get some things at the drug store before that. Do you need anything while I’m out?”
“But you’re not even dressed,” Phil replied.
“Um, Mom,” she added, trying to back away from their hug. “Please. I can’t breathe.”
“Oh, sorry.” Sybill opened her eyes and let go.
“Nothing for me, thanks,” Phil said, pouring a tin of tomatoes into the mix. “Unless you’re going by the liquor store,” he chuckled, draining his wineglass of orange juice.
“Oh, Dad!” said the drowsy-looking Christina. As her mother withdrew, her bathrobe fell open, showing the swell of her belly.
“Just when are you due?” he asked.
“In March. You know that.”
“He can’t wait,” Sybill said as she backed into a barstool at the breakfast counter that gave on to the dining room.
“He never could,” she added with a glow, sitting down. She was facing them with her elbows resting on the counter behind her, flanked by a bowl overspilling with fruit and an array of Christmas cards pegged to a wire tree.
“Well, it’s not just a UPS delivery, is it?” He placed the wineglass beside the sink. “I’d meant: when in March?”
“On the 28th,” Christina replied.
“Oh.”
“What is it, Sybill?” Phil asked.
“That’s the day my father died,” she replied.
“Oh, for God’s sake!” Phil exclaimed. Christina stood in the middle of the kitchen, mid-way between them, pressing her lips tight while she stared out the window.
“Sorry.”
Phil turned to Christina, saying: “Did you want me to go to the drug store for you?”
“Have I done it again?” Sybill added.
“It’s okay.” Christina replied, addressing Phil.
“No. I’ll go,” he said to Christina. He stirred the pot’s contents with difficulty, and added: “This will take care of itself if we just let it simmer. Why don’t you make Paulo and yourself some breakfast while I go out.”
“Write down what you need while I get ready.” He put his arm around Sybill and kissed her as he left the kitchen.
“And get your mother a cup of tea,” he called out as he reached the stairs.
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