Family Sins - A Short Story
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Family Sins - A Short Story
Linda Johnson
Copyright 2014 Linda Johnson
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Family Sins is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
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The dining room table was set for Thanksgiving: china, silver, crystal water and wine goblets, Belgian lace tablecloth and napkins. Sarah set the arrangement of crimson flowers in the center. The final touch. Everything just so.
Sarah gazed at her son. He looked every bit as perfect as her table in his navy suit and burgundy tie. As tall and handsome as his father had been. She was so proud of him: an orthopedic surgeon with a thriving practice. But right now he paced around her kitchen like a lost puppy dog.
“We can’t wait any longer, Michael. Dinner will be ruined.”
“There’s still no answer on her cell. Maybe I should drive around and try to find her. She must be lost.”
Sarah didn’t bother to hide her annoyance. “You’re not going to leave me on Thanksgiving. Not so you can drive around searching for some flighty girl. She couldn’t even bother to call and let us know why she’s late.”
“Don’t be so judgmental, Mom. For all we know, she could have had an accident.”
The doorbell trilled and Sarah saw the look of relief in her son’s face.
“That must be her.” He raced for the door.
Sarah bustled around the kitchen, pulling the butter and cranberries out of the refrigerator, pouring the water into glasses. Her son’s new girlfriend was an hour and a half late. She’d already missed the mimosas and appetizers. You’d think she would have tried a little harder to make a good first impression.
Michael burst into the kitchen, his arm around the girl’s waist. She wore a pair of low-rider, skin-tight jeans, an equally tight blue and green striped knit top, low enough to reveal a hefty dose of cleavage and high enough to show off her toned abs. A pair of sparkly gold four-inch platform sandals completed the outfit. Is this a joke? Sarah wondered. The ensemble would have been inappropriate on any occasion, but Thanksgiving?
And the girl looked every bit as trashy. Long, red hair--an obvious dye job--and an even worse perm, her hair stuck out like a Brillo pad. Sarah had to admit the girl had lovely porcelain skin and beautiful green eyes. But they were masked by horrendous make-up: clown cheek blush, blue eye shadow, and bright red lipstick. Could her son actually find this girl attractive?
“She made it, Mom. This is Andi. Andi, this is my mother.”
“I’m so sorry I’m late. I got totally lost. My cell phone died and there went my GPS and any way to call you.”
Sarah shook her head and tried to recover her wits. “It’s nice to meet you, Andi. Michael tells me that’s short for Andrea. May I call you Andrea? That’s such a pretty name.”
“You’d be the first. Outside of my birth certificate, everyone has called me Andi from day one.” The girl laughed. “Actually, I take that back. I went to Catholic grade school and the nuns called me Andrea. But that was it. My family and friends have always called me Andi.”
Catholic, too? Sarah thought. Probably comes from a family of ten. “Do you have any brothers and sisters, Andrea?”
“A whole mess of them. Four sisters and three brothers.”
“And you didn’t want to spend the holiday with them?”
“I wouldn’t miss it for the world. Luckily, it worked out perfectly that you serve your meal early. Michael and I can eat here and still make it to my mom’s for dinner.”
Sarah was stunned. She and Michael always spent the whole day together. They would eat at two, then spend the afternoon relaxing, and have turkey sandwiches while they watched “It’s a Wonderful Life” in the evening. He hadn’t said anything about leaving early. She turned to her son.
“Sorry, Mom. I meant to bring it up earlier. Andi and I wanted to share the holiday with both families.”
“I’m sure they’ll be delighted to meet you, Michael.”
“Actually, Mike’s already met my clan. Hard to avoid them. I’m always at my folk’s house, or my sisters are at my place. We’re super close.” She wrapped her arms around Michael. “And they’re all crazy about your son. I think my mom already has the wedding invitations printed up.”
Sarah felt a knot in her stomach. This little tramp could not be her future daughter-in-law. Her son could not possibly have such bad taste. But then she saw the way he gazed at the girl--like he was eight years old and she was a hot fudge sundae.
“We better get the food on the table before it gets cold.” She turned to her son. “Michael, carve the turkey, please. Andrea, you can ladle the dressing and mashed potatoes into those serving bowls.” She pointed out the dishes she’d set out already. “I’ll take care of the asparagus and get the rolls out of the oven.”
When everything was laid out, Michael sat at the head of the table with the two women on either side.
Andrea reached for the bowl of mashed potatoes before Sarah raised her hand. “We say a prayer before we eat. I would have thought if you were raised Catholic...”
Andrea laughed. “With a family my size, we all grab the food before it’s gone. Although my mom does try to get us to say grace when she thinks of it.”
“Well, I think it’s nice to give thanks.” Sarah reached for Michael’s hand. “Will you do the honors, dear?”
“Of course, Mom.” He took Andrea’s hand. “I promise you won’t have to fight me for the last spoonful of cranberries.” He said a prayer and then lifted Andrea’s hand to his lips. “Happy Thanksgiving, babe.”
“Right back at you. I’m so happy we’re spending the day together.”
As the two stared into each other’s eyes, Sarah felt invisible.
“I didn’t make a salad. Is that all right, dear?” she asked Michael.
Instead, the girl answered.“Fine with me. You’ve got a ton of food here for just the three of us.”
“I’ve always served a full traditional Thanksgiving meal, even though it’s usually just Michael and me.”
“Mike told me his dad died when he was a baby. That must have been terrible for you. And then to be alone all these years.”
“I’ve hardly been alone. I have Michael. Even when he was away at school, we always spent the holidays together.”
“Still, you must have been lonely. Didn’t you want to remarry?”
Sarah bit her lip. How dare this intruder ask such a personal question? It was none of her business and certainly not an appropriate subject for a first meeting. How could her son not see what terrible manners this girl had?
“Michael was only six months old when his father died. Between taking care of a child and a career, I hardly had time to date. And by the time Michael was grown, I didn’t see a point to it.”
“Well, you obviously have plenty of money.” Andrea waved her hand, taking in Sarah’s house and possessions.
Once again, Sarah was appalled. Was the girl going to ask
how much she earned?
“But, I’m talking about companionship,” Andrea continued, her eyes wide with innocence, oblivious to the impression she was making. “Not to mention sex.” She leaned under the table and Sarah could only guess what part of her son’s anatomy she groped. As though reading Sarah’s mind, Andrea winked at her.