Free Why Sarah Ran Away with the Veterinarian by Liz; Newall

told Donna her mother’s busyness was an escape mechanism. Donna said, “Escape from what? Mama’s always been busy.” I guess it’s hard to see personality disorders in your own parents, but I could sure see it in Vivienne. Up and down, pouring tea, getting more hot rolls, bringing in dessert.
    Dessert. That’s another food fettish. If you don’t want dessert, you’d better say you’re highly allergic to it and your throat will close up if you eat a single bite. If you say, “No thank you,” they’ll say, “Oh, have some.” If you hesitate for a second, they take that as “Yes, I’d love a huge serving.” If you say, “No” another time, they think you mean “Just a medium piece, please.” And if you don’t eat all of it, you’ll get, “What’s wrong? Don’t you like it?” After months of this, Joe finally told me, “I know your problem. You’re allergic to natural foods like sugar and honey and cream. What’d they feed you up there, anyhow?” I realize by now I have a role too, that bastard of a son-in-law from Massachusetts.
    Donna’s role at Sunday dinner was to keep some banter going and to say things like “Mama, the rice isn’t sticky, it’s just fine,” or “Daddy, these tomatoes are so sweet and juicy! Did you grow them?” Sarah’s role at first was to laugh occasionally and turn her eyes to Jack. But the last few years that changed. She didn’t have much to say, as if she were ill at ease half the time. At one point I almost felt a kinship, but her uneasiness was different. Just before she left, she would sit through the entire dinner without a word. I couldn’t believe that no one else noticed it. Too busy in their own roles, maybe.
    Then there’s Jack. You’d have thought he was blood kin the way Joe used to treat him. He’s smart, I’ll admit. But it’s all in sales. I never could put him and Sarah together. She’s better suited to a musician or mime or circus performer or obviously a large-animal veterinarian, than to a rotarian president.
    Donna says Jack will be here, but I haven’t seen him. She doesn’t miss a face. This place is packed, but she’ll go through who’s here and what they’re wearing and where they’re sitting. I wonder if Jack will sit with the family, if he comes.
    I’ve not seen him in a year or more. He and Sarah used to come over every week. Jack beat me on “The Price Is Right” a time or two, but I took him on “Jeopardy” every time unless they had a car category like Autos of the ’50s. That’s what we used to do when Sarah and Jack came over. Donna and Sarah would go to the kitchen and talk or take care of the twins, while Jack and I played gameshows. They quit coming over. Donna said she thought Jack was too busy at the car lot. I thought he might just be tired of my beating him at Jeopardy. But I guess he was busy. And to be honest, he’s done well. From salesman to head man. But the thing that gets me is, while he was talking his way up the dealership ladder and getting more money at every rung, I was paying out money and working my ass off to get a Ph.D. Seven years, it took me, mainly because I taught a full load the whole time. Three classes every semester, and one each session of summer school, too.
    The whole time Donna was after me to let her have a baby. “Just one,” she’d say, “just one.” Then she’d hang all over me and kiss my neck and rub against me. We couldn’t afford a hamster much less a baby. But I promised her the day I got my hands on that sheepskin that said “Andrew Webster, Ph.D.” she could throw her pills out the window. She did. And I had her pumped up within a month. Even I couldn’t believe I’d get her pregnant so fast. Joe and Vivienne seemed happy and upset at the