Primal - By D.A. Serra Page 0,7

skill around Hank’s extended animated family. What is interesting to her is the emotional continuity; grudges and arguments resurface year after year, are pulled out, addressed all over again, and in the end, everyone hugs and kisses and goes home until the next time. Alison is intimidated by conflict, but she likes watching them all - it’s like her own personal reality show. Tonight Hank’s entire tribe is in her home: laughing, arguing, eating, joking, complaining.

In her cozy yellow and white flowered kitchen, there is a butcher’s block with a cabinet and drawers for a center island. Over the sink, four little ceramic spice pots line up along the windowsill, which looks out on the backyard. Rosemary and basil scent the air. Along the far wall, past the wooden country kitchen table, is the door that leads down to the basement. She read once in a women’s magazine that a kitchen tells the tale of the woman who likes it; Alison’s kitchen is understated, elegant, and meticulously clean.

Alison kicks open the back kitchen door, which leads in from the barbeque, and steps inside the room. She is wearing a two-piece sage green linen pants outfit, which highlights her green eyes. She looks radiant, relaxed, and in her element. She carries a platter of perfectly grilled chicken. Stepping inside, she bumps the back door closed with her hip and hurries over to the center island where she places the heavy platter on top of the butcher’s block top. She rinses and wipes off the long sharp two-pronged BBQ fork and replaces it in the drawer under the butcher’s block. As she passes the microwave, she hits one button without even looking and the timer automatically sets to fifteen seconds. It counts down as she grabs the tomato and oregano salad out of the refrigerator. She looks at the salad disapprovingly. It’s not tomato season and so she wouldn’t normally make this dish. Tomatoes have no taste unless purchased from local growers in season; however, it is Jimmy’s favorite so she made it even though she knows it will be disappointing. When the microwave has counted down fifteen seconds, it beeps loudly and she removes the cup of tea she was warming. She stops for a moment and takes a sip as a loud burst of family laughter from the other room makes her smile. She looks around at her home, her family, and decides that no matter how unpleasant the coming few days might be, she will be positive. Really, she asks herself, how bad could it be? A few days in the woods, big deal.

Using her butt to swing open the door into the dining room, Alison carries the platter to the table, which has been set up as a buffet. The relatives have congregated around the table and are grabbing plates and napkins. The oval dining room table has a white eyelet lace tablecloth that sets a bright backdrop to the blue and yellow Italian ceramic platters and bowls Alison has carefully set around for the buffet. The room smells like warm cheddar biscuits and freshly cut oranges. Alison savors the scents and she does wish that Aunt Beth would not smoke inside the house, but she is too gracious to say so. Jimmy and Alan dip their fingers in the potatoes au gratin.

“Boys,” Alison stops them, “fingers out of the food. Jimmy, please run into the kitchen and bring in the lemonade.”

“Aw, Mom, I want soda.”

“Soda?”

“It’s my birthday!”

“So you think you can just have anything you want?”

“No, just soda.”

“You think because it’s your birthday you can just gulp down a big ole glass of soda?”

“Yeah?”

“You’re right. Go.”

Jimmy flies merrily into the kitchen. Alan follows.

“Not you, Alan.” Alan freezes at the sound of his mother’s voice. Jill looks at Alison, “We don’t ever approve of soda.”

Alison smiles, letting the derision in Jill’s tone slide off her, “Your prerogative as Alan’s mother.”

“We don’t even have soda in the house,” she adds with just a hint of judgment in her tone.

“I’m glad that works for you.” Alison turns away but Jill continues.

“Well, you know, Jimmy is my nephew and I surely wish he didn’t drink soda either.”

Alison drops her head forward just a bit to give herself a brief second to get the ire out of her eyes. She finds her sister-in-law trivial, and self-righteous, and Alison does believe that Jill goes out of her way to bait her. Aunt Lydie looks over with her eyebrows raised hoping for a messy