Page 32 of Wreckage and Rain

Mama comes from the kitchen with hush puppies. Cups my face. Gives me the look. The one only mothers can give.

"Happy birthday, sweet girl."

"Thanks, Mama."

"Is Colt..."

"On his way."

She glances at Daddy. The look between them lasts one second and I hate every millisecond of it.

***

Seven fifteen.

Empty chair.

I check my phone under the table. Nothing.

Me

Hey, we're all here! Are you on your way?

Delivered. Not read.

"He's probably stuck on the bridge," I say to no one in particular. "Traffic's been terrible."

Autumn is across from me. She hasn't mentioned the empty chair. She keeps refilling my sweet tea with a focus that borders on medical intervention.

Seven thirty.

I excuse myself to the bathroom. Lock the door. Call Colt. Five rings. Voicemail.

"Hey, it's me." My voice sounds normal. "We're all at the diner. Wondering where you are. Call me."

I hang up. Stare at myself in the mirror over the porcelain sink I used to reach on my tiptoes. The woman in the mirror is wearing a green dress and careful mascara and an expression she is working very hard to maintain.

I flush the toilet so it sounds like I had a reason to be in here.

***

Seven fifty-five. Mama brings out the shrimp and grits.

Eight ten. I open Jake's present. A first edition of The Silence of the Lambs from an estate sale in Charleston. I press it against my chest and he pretends not to see my eyes get wet.

Eight twenty. Autumn gives me gold hoops with tiny emeralds. Coordinated with the dress.

Eight thirty.

Empty chair.

My phone buzzes.

I look at it under the table. Angle the screen so nobody can see. Like hiding a bad grade.

Colt

Hey babe. Tidewater call ran late and I still have a stack of briefs to get through before tomorrow. Going to be a late one. Don't wait up.