Blind Spots

I pulled the parking brake on my white Prius and looked to my right. “We’re here,” I said to Allison. She could hardly contain her smile, slinging her brightly colored purple, pink, and orange canvas bag around her neck and over her shoulder.

“Yay, I’m home!” she said, before correcting herself. “I mean, my parent’s house. We’re not at home.” I smiled at her effort.

“Adulting is hard,” I said. I watched as she nervously reached and fiddled with random objects inside her bag.

“Very,” Allison said. Then she tried to stand up without unbuckling her seatbelt. “It might work better if undo this little bit.” Pushing her thumb onto the red buckle, Allison turned her head toward the car window as the seat belt retracted past her.

“I knew you’d get it.” I said as we stepped out of my car and walked toward the front door, looking down at the pitted bricks that make up her parent’s tall entryway. They reminded me of my abuela’s place. “You’ve spent more of your life in there than out of it.”

“And it’s been a great month, bu— ” Allison began to say as we walked up the steps.

“It’s still just a month?” I interrupted.

“Yeah,” she said with a closed smile and a raising of her brow. Allison looked away for a moment before turning me to face her. “I love you and I like you,” she said, interlacing her fingers with mine, and giving me a kiss on the nose. I kissed her nose and turned to face their front door.

“Which anniversary is this, again?” I asked Allison, before an imposing oak archway.

“Oh my god,” she said sarcastically, with a flick to my right ear.

“Hey, hey, this isn’t Italy? Leave my ear alone,” I told her with a smirk.

“This is their wedding anniversary,” Allison answered.

“Right, Great. And how ma —?”

“29 years,” Allison said, while searching the corners of her eyes as she hesitated to remember. “How long have we been together?” she challenged in the most loving way. I looked at her intentionally startled.

“You don’t remember our perfect si — even, years together?” I said obtusely. Allison laughed and then gestured for me to push open the door as it was usually unlocked.

“What?” I said quizzically, but flat.

“It’s okay if you just walk in.”

“I’m sure it would be,” I said, with a stoic double blink of my eyes.

“Then why don’t you?” Allison said, before rolling her eyes with an exhausted exhale and a smile.

“It seems like a good way to get yourself accidentally shot. I know me. I’d judge me. Probably harshly if I died that way,” I responded before she finally turned the doorknob.

“We’re here!” Allison announced, as we stepped into the narrow foyer.

“Hello, sweetie. I missed you so much!” Miranda said, stepping out from the kitchen, wearing an apron painted in beautiful motifs of brightly colored fruit and wrapping grape vines in an oil on canvas style.

“I thought you forgot about your poor mother,” Miranda said as she pulled Allison into a hug. Miranda turned to me, “You too, Alan.” Wrapping her arm around my waist to pull me in, I embraced both of them in my arms, looking down on their identical coal black hair. “I missed my baby.”

When I felt I was no longer going to be missed in their group hug, I made a break for it. Walking into the open plan-living space, I saw Allison’s father, Rick sitting and reading under the vaulted ceiling.

“Anything broken?” I said, as I took a seat on the couch.

“Still functional,” Rick said in his usual monotone response before he quickly returned his attention to his Material Sciences Journal.

“Great. I’m just going to have a seat while—” I stopped myself and pointed toward the front door.

“Right,” Rick acknowledged, while nodding empathetically and periodically glancing toward the television.

“And that’s an interception by the defense on the forty-two-yard line, Dallas has the…” the sport announcers droned until the oven timer rang out. I looked left into the kitchen where Miranda rushed back into action, peering through the tinted glass to check the oven. It only took a moment for the warm smell of garlic bread to drift across the kitchen into the living room where Allison joined me.

“Hello!” Allison said, sitting next to on the couch.

“Hello,” I responded, putting my arm around her. “Sounded like you really needed a mom hug.”

“I sure did,” she said, resting her head on my chest.

Looking into the kitchen, I could see Miranda walking back and forth from stove to sink, moving all manner of stainless-steel cooking pots and pans, before calling out from the kitchen.

“Rick, did you get the fresh garlic?” Miranda said, rummaging through various canvas bags on her white-and-black marble island.

“Yes, Ma’am,” Rick said motionless, briefly raising his eyes from his journal. He leaned slightly forward in the event he may actually have to stand up.

“Well, w-wait I found it.” Miranda said, before quickly grabbing the cutting board to mince garlic.

Allison and I stood up from the couch and began to set the table in the adjoining dining area while Rick reclined in his leather chair.

“Having fun?” Allison asked. She nudged my shoulder and placed a napkin to the left of the dish I just put down on the table.

“Of course, sports ball is my favorite,” I said. Neither of us was actually watching the game nor the television screen. “I know what you meant. I’m great. A little hungry.”

“Did you two talk about anything?” she asked, tilting her head in the direction of her father.

“Um, sure. We spoke,” I replied flatly but honestly.

“You should talk more,” Allison responded goadingly.

“Has anyone been following the news about the migrant caravan? The president authorized troops on the border.”

“Rick and I saw something about that earlier. What was it, Rick?” Miranda said in an attempt to instigate a conversation. “Over a three thousand soldiers?”

“Five thousand three-hundred and fifty soldiers, yes. For a two-thousand mile border.”

“It just doesn’t make sense to me. They aren’t border agents,” I said, standing in the dining room and pouring wine for Allison and myself. I turned to Rick, “They’re designed for combat.”

“It should never make sense, “Rick remarked, standing up and folding his journal onto his seat. “Rule one, in any bureaucracy.” I turned to Allison with a satisfied look on my face as Rick joined Allison, Miranda, and I in the dining area.

“Better?” I said, looking at Allison with a smirk on my face. “Bang. B —”

“Boom!” Allison followed, just loud enough for us to hear.

“Oh Rick,” Miranda exhaled.

“If it’s true?” Rick said, looking at Miranda walking into the kitchen then picking up a thin slice of cured prosciutto from the platter she was preparing before dinner.

“There’s another two-thousand people in that caravan since crossing into southern Mexico, from Guatemala,” Allison added to the conversation as she subtly held her phone by her waist.

“Seven-thousand mouths we’ll be compelled to take care of,” Rick said, looking at Miranda.

“The V.A. takes care of you,” Miranda said as she poured out boiling water from a large stainless-steel pot into the sink strainer, momentarily disappearing in a cloud of steam

“That’s different,” Rick retorted.

“I wonder where they’ll try and cross into the U.S.?” I asked the room, stealing a stray piece of cheese from the antipasto platter and grabbing the porcelain serving plates laid out by Miranda for the table. “Where are the ladles?”

“Third drawer down,” Allison said, pointing a wine glass in the direction of the cabinet before placing it on the dining room table.

“There’s no telling, but it’ll be in one border crossing.” Miranda said

“And Mexicans know the best ways in, I mean.” Allison blushed.

“I get it. And we do.” I said with a soft laugh to curb her anxiety.

“I might be enrolling some of their kids in Raleigh,” Miranda said.

“If the president doesn’t decide to pay for his deployment with the Education Department’s budget first.”

“He’s such a stupid man!” Miranda exhaled in frustration. “Every time he opens his mouth. It hurts.”

“They’re taking our jobs!” I said, sensing a need for levity with an unconvincing southern accent. This was followed by varied laughs and smiles from Allison, Miranda, and even Rick.

“How do you take a job away from someone who never had it to begin with?” Miranda quickly added. I shrugged in mutual unknowing.

“It’s what we deserve. We voted him in,” Rick deadpanned as he poured everyone a glass of wine and set them on the individual place settings.

“Whoa. Wait a minute, I didn’t vote for them,” I said, followed by similar statements from Allison and her mother.

“It’s just amazing that people are more afraid then inspired by it all,” Allison said.

“Why wouldn’t we want citizens like that?” I added.

“Because we’re not Rumplestiltskin and we can’t just keep spinning a yellow brick road out of our asses,” Rick abruptly stated, giving little time for self-control or composure to keep up.

“Wouldn’t it be ass, singular? I might use that,” I said once I cleared any residual pinot noir from my sinuses.

“Dinner is ready,” Miranda said, opening the oven and turning down the range flames just shy of going out. We all anxiously awaited while Miranda brought a large porcelain dish from the oven with baked ziti still bubbling inside. That’s when the doorbell chimed.

“Rick, would you go and see who that is?” Miranda asked.

“It’s probably just someone worried about my eternal soul,” Rick said as he stood up from the table and walked toward the front door.

Sitting down with Allison and Miranda at the dinner table, we began to serve ourselves when Rick reentered the dining room.

“Who was at the door, Dad?” Allison asked. I turned to Allison before he could answer,

“Shalom and or an As-salamu alaykum usually does the trick. Depending on your audience,” I said.

“It was just United Way asking for donations,” Rick said, taking his seat the head of the table then exhaling.

“Everyone wants our money,” Miranda remarked. “This is why we left New Jersey.”

“I don’t know when this hand out culture cropped up?” Rick added. “What ever happened to handling your own business?” We all shrugged, with varying levels of apathy, and that’s when I reached for the main course.

“Ziti, my love?” I said to Allison as I passed the porcelain dish to the left.