Knocking Boots - Willow Winters Page 0,12
tired. Cheryl stifles a yawn as well as she looks over her shoulder at the rocker holding her sleeping baby. Rocker or swing, I don’t know. Apparently there’s a difference and Evie won’t sleep in one of the contraptions. From what my brother-in-law says, the baby doesn’t sleep at all.
“I need to eat fast,” Cheryl says beneath her breath; maybe we were sharing the same thought. She rubs the sleep from her eyes with one hand, while spooning in corn with the other.
Ma places her elbows on the table, folding her hands for grace.
“Oh,” Ali chirps up. “Can I say grace?”
I set my fork down although it clinks on the plate, drawing the attention of my entire family as I try to pretend I’m not chewing.
Family dinner. Every Sunday. No exception.
Except for the fact that today is Tuesday. Cheryl needed to get out of the house with Evie and Ma decided this dinner was mandatory.
Cheryl doesn’t like being alone all day, every day, and I can’t blame her. She’s a social creature and being alone in the house with a newborn all day has got to be rough. Especially with the no sleeping part. Ma said it’s family dinner tonight, so that’s all there is to it.
“Wait for grace,” my mother scolds me under her breath, giving Cheryl a pass which my widened eyes and darting glance points out.
“Can I say it?” Ali repeats, with even more desperation this time around.
I never wait for grace. Ma shakes her head at me and nods in response to Ali.
My youngest sister’s excitement makes my lips kick up into a smirk. She grabs her napkin off of the table and smooths it out on her lap over her pale blue dress, all the while waiting for everyone to bow their heads.
“As long as it has nothing to do with the wedding,” Michael says under his breath next to her. My grin widens as Alison’s mouth opens in disbelief.
Pops chuckles to my right, and I can’t help doing the same. Both Ma and Ali are obsessed over this wedding; it’s all the women in this family ever talk about lately.
“Hush.” Ma waves Michael away and bows her head. We all follow suit, the room quieting down as we wait.
“Bless us, Lord. Thank you for these gifts, which we are about to receive... Including my wedding,” Ali says. She lifts her head to peek at Michael. He huffs a small laugh and shakes his head while resting his forehead on his hands. She pauses a minute, waiting for him to do or say anything, but he’s quiet. “May you stay with us through our journey and bless us along the way. Amen.”
The second she’s done, the forks are lifted and the conversation continues. Michael and Pops are talking about the game last night. I’m half listening, half trying to eat as fast as I can so I can get back home.
“I can’t believe Joseph had to work,” Ma says… again.
She’s brought it up about half a dozen times since I’ve been here. Ma has one wish, and it’s for everyone to be home on Sunday. Joseph’s a mechanic and owns his own shop. Usually it’s not a problem, but he’s been working more since little Evelyn came along.
“We need the extra money,” Cheryl says softly. There are bags under her eyes, and I can tell she’s just as tired as I am, maybe even more so. Pops motions for me to pass her the gravy, but Michael leans over the table and snatches it before I can. He’s quick with it and then hands it off to Cheryl.
That white ceramic rooster brightens her spirits as Cheryl sits straighter in the chair and pours it all over the turkey and mashed potatoes. She's practically smothering her entire plate with the gravy.
Just before she sets it down, little Miss Evie starts crying for the first time since she’s been here. Cheryl’s head whips around, and her face falls.
“No, no, no,” she says quietly. She walks over and shushes Evie softly while rocking the bassinet. She’s fucking exhausted.
“She’s still not sleeping well?” Ali asks while craning her neck to see the baby.
Cheryl presses her lips into a thin line and shakes her head. Her expression has completely fallen.
“I’ll take her,” I speak without thinking and scoot my chair out some, the legs scraping on the wooden floor and hold my hands out. Cheryl doesn’t waste a second to round the table with the little two-month-old all bundled up