For some reason Aunt Jessica does not introduce Mom to the driver, and as we eat our food I feel them observing me. My mother sits next to the tow truck man, and although I saw him chatting with her earlier, his body instinctively turns away from her as his attention focuses on me and Aunt Jessica, the proper family members. I fumble the hamburger in my fingers, forcing myself to take little nibbles that make me feel sick.

Finally Stone tries to break the silence, turning to Aunt Jessica.

So your flight got in on time, Mrs. Sullivan? he says.

Her knife halts in the air, confused.

Oh I’m not Mrs. Sullivan, she says. I’m married. My name’s Jacobson.

I see, he says, looking confused but pretending to understand.

They look down at their plates. We eat quietly. Forks click and scrape ceramic. A wrinkle of frustration passes above my aunt’s blue eyes.

Wait, she says. That doesn’t make sense.

What doesn’t? says the man.

That you should think my name’s Sullivan just because I’m her sister-in-law.

He stares at her. Why not?

Well because I told you I’m married, Mr. Garret. It’s obvious. I’d have a different name from the boy.

The man glances my way.

Of course I know you’re married, he says. I mean—unless you were divorced.

A moment of silence passes.

But I don’t see how that means you wouldn’t be called Mrs. Sullivan, he adds with rising frustration.

My aunt seems to sense that maybe he feels she was questioning his intelligence and she bites her lip. After a time, the man suddenly looks up.

Whose sister are we talking about, anyway?

No, Mr. Garret—sister-in-law.

Okay, sure, whatever you say, he says, throwing up his hands in frustration.

My mother gives Aunt Jessica a hard look—mortified that she would give this man who was so nice to me such a hard time. Aunt Jessica returns to her food, rebuked.

The waitress comes and takes away our plates and returns with the desserts, which clatter onto the table.

Aunt Jessica looks up. I’m sorry, Mr. Garret.

Her hands lie flat on the table.

No problem, he says, relaxing now. I sense Mom relaxing too. Outside a car moves into a parking space and its headlights illuminate the window dust, creating a filmy sheet, and light and shadow shifts faintly across our faces, even in this brightly lit room.

But you know, he adds, I still don’t know who you’re talking about when you say sister.

My aunt wrinkles her brow.

She didn’t put whipped cream on my chocolate, I interrupt.

What? Aunt Jessica turns to me in annoyance.

My sundae. It sucks without whipped cream.

She ignores me, turning back to him. I’m afraid I’m not getting you.

Waitress! I say.

Will you just sit, Gabe, she says.