***

I yelled, “Where’s dinner?”

My sister Becky folded her arms and leaned back into the kitchen sink. Her boobs rose and added to an already trashy look. They were big but not porn star huge. Enough to entice the guys. She tied the blouse above a belly button ring. It was a way to get back. It had to be. Pa didn’t care for it and mentioned plenty of times how Ma wouldn’t put up with it.

Her hair was pulled back and gave her round face a severity that didn’t look good on a seventeen-year-old. Judging from the heavy brown eye shadow and pink lipstick she was about to go somewhere.

A date with Nate. Ugh.

Becky raised her sharply arched eyebrows and her eyes bugged out as she spoke. “Because there’s no need for it.” She pointed out and by proxy to the garage. “We have a box. Let’s use it.”

Pa slammed his fist down on the thick dining table and then winced. “I’ll not bring that alien shi... stuff into this house.” His cheeks puffed out while he collected his thoughts. “It’s their way to get you dependent on them. ‘Sides... every woman should know how to cook.”

“And every man,” said Becky.

“Here we go again,” I said.

“Because it’s true,” she said. “There’s no reason you can’t cook something yourself, Peter.”

My Pa’s voice was quiet. “Becky. Your Ma cooked and cleaned. As did the women before her.”

“But it’s different now–”

He held up a hand.

I kept most of the smile from my face.

“I’ll not have a daughter of mine not know how to cook or clean. ‘Sides... it’s time for you to think about settling down. You’re getting to that age.”

“I’m only–”

“Less than a year from being an adult. Your Ma got married at eighteen.”

Becky pointed at me. “What about Peter? He’s older.”

Pa and I spoke in unison. “It’s different for men.”

Her hands balled into fists. “Augh...”

“Our shelf life is better,” I said. “Men age like a fine wine. Women get old.”

“And what would you know about being a man… runt?”

Pa’s voice was quiet. “Enough. I won’t be here forever. Rebecca Lynn, you need to think about finding someone. That gentleman friend of yours. His father’s well off. You could do well to marry...”

“Nate’s an asshole.”

“Language young lady.”

“Yeah, Becky. Language.” I said with a smile. “Learn how to act like a lady.”

My Pa’s shoulders rose, but he said nothing to me. “If you don’t like him, then why are you two dating?”

Her lips pressed together. “He’s just someone to date.”

“And to give you things,” I said. “Did he give you that necklace because you two–”

“Shut up!”

Pa let out a long, shrill whistle, and we both stopped. “Becky. Food on the table in thirty. As for you boy, let her be. I’ll be in my room.”

He got up with a groan I heard more often before he shambled out of the kitchen. Once I didn’t hear the shuffled slides on the wooden floor I spoke. “I hope you’re happy. He’s sick and you’re riling him up.”