Unprepared
By Rachael Helsel
She checked her watch again. Where was the sun-dried
tomato vinaigrette for her Martha Stewart recipe? Only three hours
remained, and all the items on her to-do list crowded into her mind: iron
napkins for the table, chill the white wine for dinner, and find matching
sheets for the guest bedroom. Where was the gouda cheese?
She reminded herself to breathe slower as she selected
a bouquet of lilies for the dining room centerpiece. Why had Joel casually
informed her on the phone that “Annie liked things clean”? Was her son
hinting that their house wasn’t immaculate enough for his fiancée? She
knew her reputation was at stake this weekend, as a mother and as a
hostess. While she placed her groceries on the faded black belt at the
checking counter, the row of bright magazines beckoned for her attention.
Her shoulders slumped as she read one of the bold headlines: First
Impressions Are Forever.
Why had Joel waited so long to introduce Annie to the
family? They had known he was interested in a girl he met at school, but
not that he was this serious. Now he was even talking about moving a few
states away to live in Annie’s hometown. She tapped her fingers
reproachfully on the counter as the checker dropped her credit card. She
only had two hours left to make the sauce for the chicken fettuccine and
finish dusting the house. Declining the offer of help to the parking lot,
she gathered the brown bags in her arms and marched briskly out to her
car, her high heels playing a quick staccato on the pavement.
Absorbed in deciding which napkins to iron when she got
home, she failed to look both ways at the first stoplight when it blinked
green. The silver Honda (to her left) trying to make the most of a yellow
light, slammed into the front corner of her red Subaru. Traffic stopped.
Pedestrians paused to stare. Both drivers disentangled themselves from
their airbags and stepped shakily out of their vehicles.
Now dinner would definitely be late. All her stress and
frustration and anxiety flooded over the dam of self-restraint. The
arrival of the police blocked the torrent of angry words falling from her
mouth onto the Honda’s driver, a young bewildered brunette. After the
police gathered enough information to file their report, they cleared the
traffic and both cars were allowed to limp back on their way to their
original destinations.
In spite of the time lost in the accident, everything
was ready by 7:00. Her fingertips stroked the damask on the dining room
table and then nervously lit the candles. The glow reflected off the
china, and beads of water clustered round the glasses filled with ice
water. The doorbell chimed. She paused on her way to check her hair in the
mirror, then opened the front door with a smile on her face. After
greeting her son with a long hug, she turned to meet her future
daughter-in-law.
“Mom, this is my fiancée, Annie. I’m sorry we’re late.
She was in an accident at the stoplight by the grocery store this
afternoon.”
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