“Yes, Mom,” Phil lied, wondering if he should spray himself with the can of air freshener perched on the toilet, to mask the smell of buffalo wings. He quickly decided against it. It would be worse if he wound up smelling like chicken and Lysol.

“Honey, tell me about Barb. She must be so proud. Her youngest son married—she’s so lucky.”

“I haven’t seen her, Mom,” Phil answered gruffly, acknowledging the jab. “She was sitting in front, and I was in the back. I didn’t want to block anybody’s view.”

Nancy wouldn’t question that. Phil was always mindful of his height, especially at concerts and movies, where he felt like a giant who stood in the way of everyone else’s view. Phil’s ex-girlfriend Elizabeth, who was five foot two, had always been impressed by his empathy for short people. On their second real date, he’d taken her to Baltimore’s historic Charles Theater, the only place he knew of that showed arty films. Elizabeth had walked ahead of him to one of the middle rows, prepared to snag two of the best seats in the house, but Phil called her name from the back of the theater, explaining that at six foot six he didn’t feel comfortable sitting where he’d wind up restricting the view of many normal-sized humans.

“Wow,” Elizabeth had said, surprised. “That’s really…considerate.”

“Short people are people too,” Phil had responded to her sarcastically as he slid into one of the back-row seats, making sure that no one was behind him and no one was in front of her.

“No, don’t get me wrong. It’s nice,” Elizabeth had said. “I just never knew that tall people were so concerned about short people. It always seems that there’s a tall person in front of me who couldn’t care less.”

“Well, my mom is only five feet tall,” Phil had explained. “So I’m used to accommodating short women.”

“That’s sweet,” Elizabeth had said, smiling at him warmly.

Of course, a year and a half later, Elizabeth wouldn’t consider Phil’s concern for his mother to be at all sweet.

“You’re in love with your mother!” she’d yelled during one of their last battles, before she stormed out of his apartment, slamming his front door, and then her own. They were next-door neighbors, so it was always a two-door slam, one right after the other.

That fight had started after Phil canceled their trip to Virginia Beach. He’d promised to take Elizabeth down there for a long weekend. It was all set—they’d even negotiated to stay at one of Phil’s friend’s timeshares—but a day before they were supposed to leave Phil got a call from Nancy. She invited him to dinner and told him that she’d already made his favorite dish, beef Wellington.

“I said I’d go,” Phil explained.

“Why didn’t you just tell her we have plans to go away?” Elizabeth asked, already incensed.

“Well, to be honest, she sounded weird. Kind of lonely. She spent six hours making me a beef Wellington, and it’s already in the fridge. I don’t want her to be by herself this weekend. I just have a bad feeling, like if I leave, something bad will happen. My dad’s birthday is next week. My mom is probably dreading it.”