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they say about carbs.”
    Ah, home sweet home.
    I ignored my mother as she fretted with
the strand of pearls around her neck, opting instead to ladle even
more mashed potatoes onto my plate. Maybe it was a little childish,
but something about everything my mother said made me want to do the
exact opposite.
    Besides, if I chewed loud enough, I
could almost drown out her constant stream of passive-aggression.
    “Actually, I was just reading an
interesting article on the important role of carbohydrates,” my
older sister Paige put in. “They’re really important!
I’ll get you a copy, Mom, I’m sure you’ll have lots
of really insightful things to say about it.”
    My mother sat back in her chair,
preening slightly, my deficiencies temporarily forgotten. That was
Paige, always the peacemaker. I shot her a grateful look, and she
sent me an apologetic smile.
    It was always like this, going home for
family dinner: Use the right fork, talk about inoffensive topics like
the weather and diets and the resurgence of pastels in spring skirts,
and always remember to duck before Mom hurls a cannonball of hurt
you.
    Honestly, if she’d been a general
in The War Between the States, the entire Union army would’ve
given up and gone home in despair before a single shot was fired, and
probably spent the rest of their lives crying on their wives’
shoulders about how impossible it was to win her approval.
    Which is all to say that if the food
weren’t so delicious, and if I wouldn’t have major guilt
about leaving Paige to fend for herself, I’d have thrown myself
out the plantation-style windows at one of these dinners at least
five years ago, if not earlier.
    My mother interrupted my ruminations
with a question tailor-made to prove my point.
    “Is that how you’re wearing
your hair now, dear?”
    Well, obviously, Mom. “Yes.”
    “But it looks so nice when you
wear it back from your face,” she said with a frown. “Is
loose hair really considered professional these days? Honestly,
Allison. And besides, you don’t want men to think you’re
not ready to settle down.”
    “Really?” I said in as
neutral a tone as I could manage, which was not exactly up to the
standard of, say, Switzerland. It was hard to stay neutral when all I
seemed to remember were constant judgy comments about how I needed
bangs to hide my overlarge forehead, and how buns made men think you
had accepted your fate as an old maid. “I’ll think about
that.”
    What I was going to think about was
getting a hot pink mohawk, or shaving my initials into the side of my
head, or maybe working on some dreads. Sure, it’d be
professional suicide, but wouldn’t the look on my mom’s
face be worth it.
    Yes, yes, it would.
    “So, meet any boys lately?”
she asked, with a smile so pained and bright I could tell that she
was already prepared for my usual answer.
    “No, Mom,” I said, ladling
more asparagus onto my plate. Maybe if I kept eating I could finish
all the food on the table myself, and then there would be no more
reason for me to stay in this house. “And I’ve been out
of high school for six years, so I’m dating men these days.
They came highly recommended from a trusted source.”
    Paige hid her smile behind a lavender
napkin embossed with a cursive B.
    My mother sighed as if I was put on
this earth solely to frustrate her. “Very well, Allison, have
you met any men lately?”
    “All sorts,” I said
cheerfully, deliberately misunderstanding her just to see that moment
of shock in her expression. “Men, they’re everywhere! Did
you know they make up fifty percent of the population? Who knew?”
    Mother gritted her teeth, making a
sound in the back of her throat that bore a remarkable resemblance to
a tiger’s warning growl. “I take it from your immature
remarks that you haven’t actually gone out on a date in quite
some time.”
    Well, wasn’t she perceptive. I
stabbed at the asparagus, and briefly entertained the idea of asking
her