She covered her face with her hands and took a deep breath, wiping under her eyes and brushing her hair back. Her cheeks were red and splotchy.

“Why can everyone else prepare a fucking progressive dinner, and I can’t even make appetizers without something happening? I feel like I’m always failing at things like this. I just want to prove that I can do things that Sharon can do.” She looked at me, eyes bloodshot.

“Because we have a lot going on right now. And you’re great at so many things, who cares if one of them isn’t appetizers?”

Jess wasn’t usually a crier. I had seen her cry maybe two times before, and once was when her sump pump overflowed into her basement during a torrential rain and ruined some of her only keepsakes from childhood. This clearly wasn’t about the appetizers. She was full of unexpected contradictions, one of the things I always loved best about her.

“I just wish one of the things I was good at was normal mom stuff,” she said with a sigh. She leaned back against her kitchen cabinet and closed her eyes.

I nodded. “I know. All of the work always seems to fall on us, even if it’s unintentional. Finding babysitters, remembering that we need extra milk, sending in the field trip form. It’s all small stuff but it takes up extra brain space.” I put a hand on her shoulder, and she opened her eyes. “I see you, and I understand.”

She smiled. “Thanks. I don’t know what I would do without you, buddy.”

I twisted my mouth to the side in a smile. “Same, buddy.” I heard Melissa laugh outside—a placating laugh—and knew her patience was about to run out. “Let’s get this figured out. I will clean the kitchen while you look for something else to make. Do you have anything in the freezer?” I said.

She cocked her head to the side for a minute, thinking. “I’m pretty sure there’s garlic bread in the garage freezer.” She shrugged.

I nodded. “Perfect. We can quickly make it and cut it up into bite-sized pieces. Marinara?” She confirmed, so I added, “Side of dipping sauce.”

“I’ll get the bread from the garage.” She slowly stood up and stretched her arms overhead in a yoga backbend before she stepped over a pile of burst tomatoes on the ground.