My mother’s hands still around my waist while she tells my brother. “Shush and stop being jealous.” I smirk at him as she shuts him up, and that smirk lasts for maybe a second before the next part comes out of her. “You look skinny,” my mother says, and I roll my eyes.

“He does not look skinny,” my brother says, and now it’s his turn to smirk at me. “He looks exactly as he did when we saw him last.” He stands there now, putting his chin in his hand. “Actually, Mom, he does look skinnier.”

“Fuck you,” I mouth to him over my mother’s head, and he laughs at me.

“Where is Dad?” I ask them. They got here today for the season opener tomorrow. A day I usually enjoy, but now I dread it. I wonder if she is going to be there. For the past few home games, I’ve opted to sit in the press box instead of with Matthew in the lodge with his family. No matter how many times I told myself not to look, I did anyway, but I never saw her.

“He’s outside wondering why you don’t have a garden,” my brother says, and I just shake my head. My mother lets go of me and walks ahead of me straight to the kitchen.

“What is that smell?” I ask, following her into the kitchen and then looking at the four pots on the stove and the fan going as steam comes out of all four pots.

“I’m making some food for you for when I’m not here,” my mother says, going to the stove and stirring something, then replacing the cover on it.

“For a year,” my brother says, going to the counter and taking a piece of bread that she cut up. “And for a village.” He pops the piece in his mouth.

“You,” she says, pointing at my brother. “Get away from that bread. It’s for dinner.”

“Mom, there are seven other loaves right there,” he says, pointing at the bread cooling on the rack.

“I need to go to the store and pick up a couple of things,” she says, taking off her apron and putting it on the counter. “Christos, drive me.”

“Mom, you know that we can have everything delivered. It’s the city,” he says, groaning and then she gives him one look. The same look she gave us when we were in high school that used to make us stop in our tracks. He holds up his hand. “Fine, fine. Let’s go.” He looks at me and holds his hand out for my car keys.

“Go see your father.” She grabs my face and brings it down to her, turning and kissing me on the cheek. “I’ll be back soon, and we can eat all together.”