“Anyway, my mom had been able to put her dog up with her cousin in their backyard for a few days on the condition that after she gave birth they would be gone. Like, my mom’s primary concern was getting dog afterbirth on the carpet and not getting her security deposit back. By this time my dad still hadn’t called back, and when they argued about this my mom made him feel guilty even though she was trying to ask for a favor. So when he did call back, the dog hadn’t given birth yet but had been at the house for a day and a half, and my mom preemptively refuted the help my dad didn’t offer. The call was short and callous. Basically, the dog gave birth, and my mom tried strong-arming her cousin for more time, which was refuted, as everyone in my family knew how to handle my mom except my dad. That’s why he married her. Anyway. So now she’s got ten puppies in her apartment along with the two dogs and her and Rodney start freaking out. They handle it for about one or two days before the apartment starts smelling like a kennel and neighbors complain about the noise. My mom picks up the phone again, starts rifling through the usual suspects. I swear, she’s got like problem solvers on speed dial. I’ve been around my family members when my mom calls, and they all tense up when they answer it, expecting to be asked some kind of favor. It’s sad.”

“A lot of drama over some dogs,” someone said.

Many started drifting off, having side conversations about music or television or other people’s lives. Carrie looked around the room.

“Baby, go on,” her boyfriend said.

“It’s getting late. When are we leaving?”

“A bit. Go on.”