Alice wondered what her mother would do with all her spare time now that she didn’t even have a house to take care of. Actually, she didn’t wonder. She knew that she’d drink more. It hadn’t bothered her that much when it was just the two of them, but now it worried her because there was a third person in their family. Did Jake know what his new wife was really like? Would he want a divorce and they’d all have to leave their beautiful-smelling new home?

It turned out that Alice didn’t need to worry. For the first two years of the marriage, Edith spent her mornings doing aerobics in the living room; Jake had a VCR, and Edith had invested in a slew of aerobics tapes. In the afternoons she would plan that night’s dinner, following intricate recipes from cookbooks with French-sounding names. When Alice came home from school, her mother was usually in the kitchen, watching an afternoon talk show on the cabinet-mounted television, preparing ingredients and drinking a red smoothie that Alice knew contained as much vodka as it did strawberries. As soon as Jake walked through the door she would make proper drinks, martinis usually, and a Shirley Temple for Alice, and the televisions would be turned off.

By dinnertime Edith was slurring her words and barely picking at her food. After dinner Alice’s job was to wash the dishes, although Jake usually helped by bringing them to her. Edith took a brandy into the living room. “I just need to relax,” she would always say. She’d turn the television on, and finish the brandy and then she’d be asleep. Jake never seemed to mind. He’d gently slide her down the white leather sectional, then take control of the remote, usually finding a game to watch. If Alice wasn’t doing homework in her room, she’d watch television with him, and he’d sometimes let her pick what she wanted to watch.

But usually Alice stayed in her room. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to watch TV with Jake. She loved television. It was that she couldn’t stand the sight of her mother passed out on the couch, her mouth open, emitting raspy snores. Jake didn’t seem to notice, only occasionally shifting her when the snores got too loud.

One night, after Alice had finished her homework, she came out to the living room. Jake was watching hockey, and Edith was facedown on the couch, a little pool of drool next to her mouth. “Gross,” Alice said before she could stop herself.

Jake laughed. “Your mother likes to drink,” he said, as though that particular thought had just occurred to him.

“Does it bother you?”

“Not too much. People are who they are, don’t you think?”

“I guess so.”