Every Happy Family Read Online Free PDF

shit, thinks Jill. What has she interrupted? Not going to think about it. We’re both adults here. “You going to let me in?” she tries with humour.
    The fumble with the deadbolt followed by the chain sounds like effort. The door opens slowly and there’s Nancy in her robe, pearl button earrings and lipstick the colour of pink peonies. It’s been years since Jill’s seen her wear lipstick. Nancy’s hair, which is usually a soft helmet of grey curls, is squashed flat on the right side, making her head appear lopsided.
    â€œJillian, you came,” she says in her demure musical voice. She grabs Jill’s face in both hands and kisses her one, two, three times on alternate cheeks.
    â€œHi,” says Jill with a laugh. Her mother is not usually this demonstrative.
    â€œI was just going to get something on.” Nancy’s eyes dart downward at her bathrobe. “Yes, I was.”
    Jill glances past her towards the living room. Awful quiet. She tries not to picture them all in bed, listening. “I know you weren’t expecting me.”
    â€œNonsense, you’re always expected,” she says, eyes suddenly shiny wet, which makes Jill melt a little. “Let me take your coat.”
    Jill puts her gifts on the table and removes her jacket. Maybe they can go for a drive, just the two of them. Down to the Cove for ice cream and talk about the situation with Pema after all. She’s relieved to see the house looks exactly the same, clean and spare, everything in its place. But is that a sourness in the air?
    â€œYou’ve brought things,” says Nancy. “A pie? And a bottle? Am I forgetting some occasion?” She hangs Jill’s jacket on a hanger, making it look complicated.
    â€œNo, no. Just thought I’d bring something to share. It’s the Masters, isn’t it?”
    â€œYes. The Masters.”
    â€œI wore my green.” Jill plucks at her shirt.
    Nancy smiles so wide her mouth looks misshapen. “How wonderful this is. You came.”
    Jill shrugs, feeling sheepish now. “I came.”
    â€œTake those to the kitchen. I’ll go put on some clothes.”
    â€œYour olive-green sweater?”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œYou’re going to put on your olive-green sweater?”
    â€œOlive-green sweater. Yes. This is so nice.”
    Carrying bottle and pie, Jill walks behind Nancy towards the living room. There are no people sounds. Nancy pauses to turn and beam over her shoulder at Jill. “Just give us a few minutes,” she says and turns down the hall towards the bedrooms.
    Us? Make sure everyone’s decent, please.
    She goes straight to the kitchen where the stink is strongest, puts down the bottle and opens the fridge to put in the pie.
    â€œUgh.” Behind a stack of plastic containers full of Danish is a reeking pack of partially eaten shrimp. Has everyone lost their sense of smell? She wraps the rotten seafood in two plastic bags and dumps it in the garbage. Notices boxes of Kleenex on the counter, a dozen or more, all with their box tops cut away. Whatever that’s about.
    Jill steps into the living room with its wonderful view of Burrard Inlet and the Northshore Mountains. Deep Cove really was a great place to grow up. She can thank her father for that much. The TV is on but muted, and captions run along the bottom in what looks like Spanish as a godlike camera pans down the tree-lined avenue of an immaculate golf green below. There is a single wineglass on the coffee table, one-third full, pink lipstick smearing the edge. She peers outside to the deck and its row of raised planters. There are no cages, no clever handles. Her neck muscles stiffen.
    â€œYou make yourself at home,” Nancy sings out. “It’s your home too .”
    Jill can’t answer, can’t make the simplest of sounds.

Mothers
    Les and Jill sit on the edge of their bed, the bedroom door locked. She can feel the faint