Janelle meets Margo when she takes a Yoga for Grief workshop, because she falls apart after my dad is killed and falters in a bad way. Two police officers drive to our house to tell us. He’s shot when he tries to reason with the teen who pulls a gun. The part about her being high and having the munchies is always left out but I know it’s true. He’s there because Janelle has a craving for salt and vinegar chips. Dad was the one who adopted me with Janelle (I was the puzzle piece that makes us a family, his voice, his words, I can hear them it playing back, a perfect recording), and then - after some years a cozy family of three - he’s killed in a Tedeschi’s. Cooking is not her thing, never has been. I do my homework at the kitchen table while she makes dinner.
The oil pops and bubbles in the pan, raindrops on concrete, a steady rain on a city night.
That those moments of graceful loving feelings wrapped up in gratitude, they are fleeting, fickle. Sometimes our eyes meet and there is this look that gets passed, from me to her, her to me, and the best way I can describe it is that we know. I mean, Janelle and I do have that in common. What will Janelle’s mood be? Will we have some mother/daughter bonding time, the two of us, neither of us wanting the titles: mother, daughter. The Woman Who Adopted Me Makes Dinner Jumbo cod loin, battered in plain crumbs, frying in oil.
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