Sera Silversmith empties her handbasket onto the conveyor belt. Orange juice, grapefruit juice, prosecco, coffee beans, English muffins and bacon. Her hair is tied up in a pony tail showing a small star tattoo behind her left ear. She finally notices how much is in the man’s shopping cart in front of her and regrets not using the self-checkout. Well, I would have had to call for customer service because of the prosecco.
The older gentleman in front of her turns around and says, “Good morning Sera, did you work last night?”
“Oh, I’m so sorry, Mr. Bliss,” Sera says. “Still in a daze. But, yeah, I was there.”
“Tragic. Crazy world these days.”
“You can say that. I did all I could.”
“I know you did. Are you going to your mom’s today?”
“Headed there right now. You should come by for one of these brunches. Mom always likes hearing stories about dad and his pals during the years she wasn’t around. Hell, you can come by today.”
“No, no. Maybe next week. I need to get the ice cream into the freezer before it melts.”
“Unless it gets warmer you could leave it in your car for the day and be okay.”
“That’ll be $225.78,” the cashier says.
“Wow, let me take off the steaks, beer and toilet paper,” Mr. Bliss says.
The cashier laughs and Mr. Bliss takes out his checkbook.
The kitchen smells of grease and coffee. Sera cups her mug to warm her hands. Her mother Elizabeth Marie Johnson sits across the island with a mimosa.
“Do you need a hug, sweetheart?” Elizabeth asks.
“No, I need something else,” Sera says. “It’s been months.”
“What about that Nelson kid? I thought he was nice.”
“That big dope. He’s nice in public. It’s all an act. He would say shit when we’re by ourselves. Makes me wonder about his whole family. They’re all in church cleansing themselves”
“Baby, the 8AM mass is over by now.”
Sounds of footsteps above them.
“You said Stinky stayed here last night?”
“Yes, your brother was walking around at God knows when and my house was closer than the apartment.”
“Drunk?”
“Not more than usual. I heard him on the phone earlier talking to New York.”
“On a Sunday? Hmm. Oh, did he tell you about his new friend?”
“Who? Do I know her?”
“No, no. Not like that. He has this new friend, Paul, who’s opening up a restaurant where the old B.S. Cafe used to be.”
“Well, that’ll be good for the neighborhood. What was the name of the last restaurant there? Murphy’s? Sullivan’s?”
“His friend is a catch.”
“You met him.”
“One way to put it. I embarrassed myself in front of him. Slip of the tongue.”
Paul walks into the kitchen with a glass of water. “She walked up to Paulie Nuts and said, ‘I’m fuckin’ you.’ That’s your daughter. It’s why we can’t have nice things.”
“I died and ran away,” Sera says.
“That’s not like you,” Elizabeth says. “What is he like?”
“I dunno. That was our whole interaction.”
“She bought us a shot and then ran off like a schoolgirl with a crush,” Stephen says. “He’s too good for Sera.”
“Stephen! Be nice to your sister.”
“She calls me Stinky in public.”
“I call you Stinky in public. So what’s Paul like?”
“You want me to tell you about someone after knowing him for a night?”
“Just first impressions.”
“Guarded. A bit of a gambler. Why else do you do restaurants? He’s seen a lot. Likes brunettes. Terrible taste in women.”
“So he likes me,” Sera says.
“I told him some of your nicknames.”
“What? You didn’t!”
“Don’t worry. It was before you stumbled over, and then I told him you’re my sister.”
Cheryl Silva places her feet carefully on the running boards of her lifted F-150. She opens the backdoor of her truck to grab the Tupperware containing the jambalaya off the floor and pulls away from the heat. She checks the Tupperware and decides she can use her UC Berkeley hoodie as an oven mitt. As she walks up the front porch stairs she sets the Tupperware two steps ahead. Why do I wear high heels and a skirt when it’s thirty degrees?
“I’m waiting until she’s almost at the front door,” Stephen says.
“What are you talking about?” Sera asks.
“You didn’t hear her engine shut off a minute ago?” Elizabeth asks.
“You two are assholes.”
Sera walks to the front door as the doorbell rings.
“Andouille and shrimp jambalaya. Hope it’s not too spicy. It’s an old family recipe,” Cheryl says.
“You forget mom’s seafood allergy?” Stephen says.
“What?”
“Oh, Cherry. Mom was the one who got you into seafood,” Sera says.
“Be nice. It smells great,” Elizabeth says. “Stephen, grab some bowls. How are midterms, Cherry?”
“Almost done with grading. They’re all so bright.”
“Any standouts?”
“This football player. Charles. He wrote about East of Eden. They lost Friday but are in the playoffs? Are we going?”
“I’m working,” Sera says. “Halloween weekend will not be fun.”
“You had so much time to take that weekend off.”
“Mom, you wanna go?” Stephen asks.
“If you’re driving.”
“So, Stinky and Sera told me about this stranger. I thought you were out Thursday night with them. Did you meet him?”
“I caught a glimpse, but Stephen was in the way the whole time. Looked like every other Asian I saw at Cal. Maybe a bit taller. Oh, I don’t mean it that way. There were just so many of them.”
“Are you kids coming back later tonight to watch your dad’s Seahawks play the Chiefs?”
“Mother, we will not come back to watch you pretend to care about football for three hours.”
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