too much going on
[2012.11.19][680][23764]
Beth took in the sight of the pre-cooked ham, the tiny cuts in its skin shiny with the marinade. She poked it and watched it slide a tiny bit in the pan, dance in the juices. “Enough marinade, do you think?”
“Good enough for government work.” Dad pulled open the oven door and grabbed a mitt to shift a rack out halfway. “Oven’s hot enough, too.”
Beth awkwardly lifted the pan and shuffled to the open oven. Dad steadied the pan as she placed in on the rack. He slid the rack into the oven and closed the door.
“Orange juice, cranberry juice or grapefruit juice?” He asked.
“Eww, no to grapefruit juice.” She screwed up her face in disgust. “In what crazy world would that taste good?”
“Bravery, Beth, bravery. We could balance it out with something.”
“Like arsenic?”
“It is sweet-tasting,” He rubbed his chin. “Okay, then, safe choice of orange juice?”
“Nah, lets go with the cranberry. Its got sugar in it, right?”
“Nope, Mom got the organic kind.”
“Molasses?”
“Upper right hand cabinet,” Dad pointed in that direction as he headed to the fridge to grab the cranberry juice. “You should also find something to even it all out.”
“We’re out of mustard.” Beth gazed at the expiration date on the can. “Molasses is a go, cranberry juice is a go.”
“I think that’ll have to do.”
Beth tossed a liberal dose of molasses in the mixing bowl’s leftover marinade as her father poured in the cranberry juice. She swirled the new basting sauce with the wooden spoon until the mix came out even. She lifted a tiny dollop to her mouth. “Molasses was not enough. Something else, something else.”
“White pepper, I guess,” Dad sprinkled some of the spice over the mix.
“You guys, you and Sam cooked together like this?” Beth restarted the conversation about the current state of Sam.
“Sometimes,” He grunted. “He is much more by the book than you are. He was forever pulling out Mom’s recipe books and trying to get me to follow them.” Dad smiled. “He’s so much like her, and I never really noticed until we spent time together.”
“Pfft, I always noticed,” Beth continued mixing together the sauce, peering in to see if the pepper was resettling at the bottom. “Mom and Sam have a lot in common. They both need to have ultimate control over what’s going on if they’re in charge. They hate change.”
He chuckled. “They can’t fight it, so they go round and round in circles. So stressful.”
She stopped mixing the sauce and changed the subject. “So you guys got along better, you and Sam?”
“Eventually, we got to no yelling and no screaming. No angry rants on my part.” He set his back against the sink counter. “And I wanted to, but I stopped myself. I told myself he was being a man. He was getting his life together to get ready for his first kid. I had to respect that, even if I didn’t respect how it happened.” He put his hands on his hips. “Your mom and I, we planned for both of you. We did stuff, you know, . . . “
“Please, if you love me, don’t tell me. I want to be able to not think about this ever again.” Beth waved her hands frantically, the basting sauce mostly forgotten behind both of them.
Dad nodded, then continued on a different vein. “We were raised differently from the two of you, different times, different mores.” He licked his lips. “I was so upset that I had failed him as a man. That he would forget to think about the consequences of his actions.” Dad leaned against Beth. “He didn’t even care, that’s what made me stop yelling at him. The more I talked to him about it, he didn’t blame me or Mom. He fully took the blame on himself. He didn’t even care about Anne or whether it was her fault, he believed that it was only him to blame.”
“Sam’s never been angry at you,” Beth agreed.
Beth took in the sight of the pre-cooked ham, the tiny cuts in its skin shiny with the marinade. She poked it and watched it slide a tiny bit in the pan, dance in the juices. “Enough marinade, do you think?”
“Good enough for government work.” Dad pulled open the oven door and grabbed a mitt to shift a rack out halfway. “Oven’s hot enough, too.”
Beth awkwardly lifted the pan and shuffled to the open oven. Dad steadied the pan as she placed in on the rack. He slid the rack into the oven and closed the door.
“Orange juice, cranberry juice or grapefruit juice?” He asked.
“Eww, no to grapefruit juice.” She screwed up her face in disgust. “In what crazy world would that taste good?”
“Bravery, Beth, bravery. We could balance it out with something.”
“Like arsenic?”
“It is sweet-tasting,” He rubbed his chin. “Okay, then, safe choice of orange juice?”
“Nah, lets go with the cranberry. Its got sugar in it, right?”
“Nope, Mom got the organic kind.”
“Molasses?”
“Upper right hand cabinet,” Dad pointed in that direction as he headed to the fridge to grab the cranberry juice. “You should also find something to even it all out.”
“We’re out of mustard.” Beth gazed at the expiration date on the can. “Molasses is a go, cranberry juice is a go.”
“I think that’ll have to do.”
Beth tossed a liberal dose of molasses in the mixing bowl’s leftover marinade as her father poured in the cranberry juice. She swirled the new basting sauce with the wooden spoon until the mix came out even. She lifted a tiny dollop to her mouth. “Molasses was not enough. Something else, something else.”
“White pepper, I guess,” Dad sprinkled some of the spice over the mix.
“You guys, you and Sam cooked together like this?” Beth restarted the conversation about the current state of Sam.
“Sometimes,” He grunted. “He is much more by the book than you are. He was forever pulling out Mom’s recipe books and trying to get me to follow them.” Dad smiled. “He’s so much like her, and I never really noticed until we spent time together.”
“Pfft, I always noticed,” Beth continued mixing together the sauce, peering in to see if the pepper was resettling at the bottom. “Mom and Sam have a lot in common. They both need to have ultimate control over what’s going on if they’re in charge. They hate change.”
He chuckled. “They can’t fight it, so they go round and round in circles. So stressful.”
She stopped mixing the sauce and changed the subject. “So you guys got along better, you and Sam?”
“Eventually, we got to no yelling and no screaming. No angry rants on my part.” He set his back against the sink counter. “And I wanted to, but I stopped myself. I told myself he was being a man. He was getting his life together to get ready for his first kid. I had to respect that, even if I didn’t respect how it happened.” He put his hands on his hips. “Your mom and I, we planned for both of you. We did stuff, you know, . . . “
“Please, if you love me, don’t tell me. I want to be able to not think about this ever again.” Beth waved her hands frantically, the basting sauce mostly forgotten behind both of them.
Dad nodded, then continued on a different vein. “We were raised differently from the two of you, different times, different mores.” He licked his lips. “I was so upset that I had failed him as a man. That he would forget to think about the consequences of his actions.” Dad leaned against Beth. “He didn’t even care, that’s what made me stop yelling at him. The more I talked to him about it, he didn’t blame me or Mom. He fully took the blame on himself. He didn’t even care about Anne or whether it was her fault, he believed that it was only him to blame.”
“Sam’s never been angry at you,” Beth agreed.