A Knife to Remember

quickly stirred up a premixed batch of brownies and set bananas and milk out on the kitchen table. She checked the mail, gave Willard a big pet and tried to explain to him why he couldn’t go outside just now, and got the kitchen floor hastily mopped while the brownies were cooking. Just as she opened the oven door to remove them the kids started arriving, with Mike home first.
    She was once again struck with how resilient kids are. As resilient as they are vulnerable. Mike had dealt with his distress of the day before and was back to being his normal self.
    “Scott and I want to go to the library. Can I have the car for an hour?“ he said, juggling a brownie that was still too hot to eat.
    “I’ve never known you to be so eager to study,“ Jane said.
    He rolled his eyes. “Mom, there’s a new girl working there. We’ve just got to check her out. Check her out... get it?“ He roared with laughter, exhaling brownie crumbs which Willard got before they hit the floor.
    “Okay with the car, but stop and get some orange juice while you’re out.“ Jane fished some cash out of her purse and gave it to him.
    “Wow! Brownies! Cool, Mom!“ Todd said a moment later as he dumped his backpack on the floor.
    “Take that upstairs first,“ Jane said, holding the brownie pan out of his reach.
    “Aw, Mom. In a minute. I’m starving. Hey. Elliot’s uncle gave him his old stamp collection Elliot says some of them are pretty cool. Can I go over there?“
    “If you’re home by five. Hey! Leave some brownies for Katie. Eat a banana.“
    “Katie’s dieting,“ Todd said.
    “I’ll drop you off at Elliot’s,“ Mike offered. They each knocked back a glass of milk and grabbed a banana as they left.
    Katie came in a minute later. The overdone makeup she’d started out with had smudged, making her look more raccoonish than ever.
    “Did you have your picture taken early in the day? I hope,“ Jane asked.
    Katie was startled. “How’d you know about the pictures? Oh, good. Brownies,“ she added, giving the lie to Todd’s idea of her diet.
    “I just know these things,“ Jane said. Better to let Katie think she’d known all along and had generously let her exercise her own judgment. Since it was too late to do anything about it anyway.
    “Did they do anything neat out there today?“ Katie asked.
    “They might have, but I didn’t see it. It’s all really tedious and boring to watch.“
    “Well, I wouldn’t know, would I?“ Katie said archly. “Since I’m not allowed to set foot in my own backyard.“
    “I guess you could go out there for a while. As long as you don’t go any farther than our yard.”
    This was more tolerance than Katie really wanted. “Oh, never mind. I’m going to Jenny’s. Okay?“
    “Back by five,“ Jane said.
    As the door slammed, Jane leaned down and petted Willard. “Why,“ she asked the big dog, “do I sometimes feel like the desk clerk at a Holiday Inn? And the janitorial service,“ she added, looking at Todd’s backpack on the floor where he’d dropped it.
    Willard wagged his tail and drooled happily.
    She put together a tuna casserole, crumbling potato chips on the top the way the kids liked it, slid it in the oven, and set the timer—which sometimes worked. She leaned down and listened. Yes, it was making the clicking noise that meant it was going to function. Probably. She got a package of green beans out to thaw, checked that she had what she needed for salad and cornbread. Too much starch for one meal, especially on top of brownies, but they wouldn’t die from malnutrition. And as long as tuna wasn’t still politically incorrect with Katie, nobody’d complain.
    When Jane got outside, people were drifting into the yard and cruising the snack table. The same two extras who’d been telling jokes earlier were still there. “How many writers does it take to change a light bulb?“ one asked. “The answer is NO CHANGES! NO CHANGES!“
    “ Move it or lose it!“ Butch Kowalski said to them, lunging for a bag of Doritos.
    “How did it go?“ Jane asked him.
    “Perfect! Primo-exacto-perfecto!“ Butch said, grinning and popping a chip in his mouth victoriously. “Everything was great. Jake woulda been proud of me. And that Harwell dame, well... she was great! I don’t usually pay much attention to what the actors are doing, but you couldn’t help but watch her.”
    When George Abington came along a few minutes later, he echoed Butch’s sentiments. “You