“Hey pumpkin, I think your little friend left this?”

Laurel looks up to see her father holding up Whit’s tie on a lone finger. He smiles forgivingly, but Laurel blushes, “Sorry, you know how Whit is…”

“Oh, that’s fine, he’s just having a bit of fun.”

“Right.” She uncurls herself from bed and takes the tie from him. “I’ll give it back to him tomorrow at school.”

“Missed you at the service.”

Laurel winces, “Sorry.” she mumbles unable to look him in the eyes, “I know I should have been there, but Whit…”

Laurel’s father clasps a hand on her shoulder, “Laurel, I know how important friends can be, but just remember that blood is always thicker than water.”

“I know, I know your right.” She nods in agreement.

“Okay, try not to overthink things.”

He turns to leave her, but she adds quickly, “How about I help you set up service next week? To make up for today…”

Her father smiles, “That’s my girl.” He gives her a warm pat on the head before leaving.

~

Dinner on Easter Sunday at Laurel’s house is a proper meal of ham, mashed potatoes, yams, deviled eggs, a vegetable medley, and dinner rolls all covered in a warm brown gravy. Laurel’s mother had been slaving away in the kitchen since the end of service at 1pm to have everything served to perfection at 6 o’clock on the dot.

Both Laurel and Laurel’s father sit waiting at the table. In a few moments Laurel’s mother would come through the swinging doors that led to the kitchen to first serve her father. Once the meal passes his approval Laurel would be served next and then finally Laurel’s mother would get to serve herself and at long last sit down and relax. A prayer would be given and then the eating could begin.

Laurel’s mother trips over her own feet and drops the plate. The largest plate, the one absolutely laden with as much food as it could hold, Laurel’s father’s plate falls and with a dull thud creates cracks throughout the ceramic and sends bits of the plate skittering off. The worst of the disaster though is the impact from the fall causing the food: the ham, the mashed potatoes, the vegetable medley, the yams, the deviled eggs, and the dinner rolls all covered in the warm brown gravy to explode outwards across the floor.

The silence is living as the mental echo of the dropping plate dissipates.

“Oh my… hahaha,” Laurel’s mother desperately tries to laugh it off, “let me, let me just get this cleaned up.” She immediately kneels down. Laurel peaks through her hair to see her mother taking off her apron and attempting to slide the cracked plate, cracking even more as she touches it, breaking as she tries to lift it onto the apron, the food continuing to spill onto the old tiled floor.

The moment the plate had slipped out of her mother’s hands Laurel had dropped her eyes to the table and kept her head bowed low. She could sense the oncoming storm just like animals supposedly could.

“So we should we just wait as the food gets colder, starve and suffer because of a mistake you made?”

Her mother freezes, “B-but the mess…” She stutters out. Laurel curses her mom’s stupidity.

Her father stands outraged. Laurel peeks out towards him. He’s scowling, but she knows that he might as well be grinning ear to ear from the pleasure he gaining from this.

“You’re arguing with me now?”

The color drains from her face, “No, no. I didn’t mean that.”

Laurel’s father has her mother’s strings wrapped around his fingers tight and he knows just the way to pull them to make her fall.

“So I’m wrong? I’m just an idiot who doesn’t know when his wife is arguing with him!”

“N-no-sorry! I’m sorry!” Her mother’s voice takes on a desperate, sobbing tone as she desperately tries to backpedal her earlier mistakes.

“Oh, sorry? I’ll teach you sorry.” Her father moves now and takes Laurel’s mom by the arm, yanking her up and towards the kitchen. “Penitence is the way to salvation.” He drags her into the kitchen and Laurel can hear the crying and begging as the door continues to swing open and close.

Laurel quietly leaves them and goes back to her room. Every time this happens it only reaffirms what Laurel knows: she unregretfully hates both her parents.