Before dinner, she dropped me home, eyeballs still sweating. My arm was a bit bigger than she was accustomed to. Amuse. Abuse. They might as well be the same word.Mother's lips were plain and cold. "Thank you for phoning that you would be late." Walter, my food is getting cold." Father called from the dining table.Mother and I seated ourselves. She seemed disappointed. She did enjoy the food she had prepared. I thought it was her best meal ever.Father, his plate empty, rose and carried his dishes to the sink. He ran water over them and placed them into the dishwasher. "Lisa, Walter, please hand wash and dry the rest.Dad sat in his chair, reading Dostoyevsky. We clinked china and glass and bumped elbows."Has Father lied to you?" I whispered.She shook her head. I think she might have worried that I was being indiscreet. Whispering in the house was a federal offense.I waited until the soapy water had drained and the faucet sang with clean flow. "Cheated?"Mother handed her drying towel to. It was obvious to Trisha that this doctor really needed to work on his bed-side manner."Let's get you home, now," Mark began, reaching out his arms to help Trisha balance herself on her new crutches."Hold on!" Trisha glared at Mark. "I'm not quite sure what you expected to accomplish by coming. Carl drove me here in my car. He's going to take me home." No, he's not," Mark countered decisively. "John followed me to your house, where I dropped off my truck and then we both came here. If Carl intends to get his car, he needs to go with John because John is headed back to work. I want your keys. I'm going to take you home and make sure you stay off that foot!" I need to go back to work; I'm sure there is paperwork I need to fill out because of the accident," stalled Trisha, looking pleadingly at John, her boss."All taken care of," John announced. "I'll have everything filled out for you to sign on Monday. That will be soon enough for the paper-pushers, trust me." John was doing.
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