by Gwendolyn Joyce Mintz

We return from the hospital to find that the cats helped themselves to my oldest son's birthday dinner. Several plates lay broken on the floor. Utensils are scattered. There are paw prints across the single-layer cake. HA Y RTHDA, it reads. A trail of white-frosting prints leads to a tray of roast beef. Slivers lay congealed in gravy. The green beans and onions, untouched, have withered.

"Malcolm said you had a way with mashed potatoes," Beth says. "Too bad I didn't get a taste." She tilts the near-empty bowl toward me.

"There will be many more family dinners after this one," I tell Malcolm's girlfriend. "Happier ones." I sigh and then make motions toward cleaning up.

Andrew, my other son, who left the hospital with only a bruise, does not offer to help. Having always accused me of favoritism, he's busy sulking, believing I blame him for the accident - he was the one at the wheel and he had been drinking. I want to reach out and slap him, tell him to act like the twenty-seven-year old that he is, but that would suggest that he's right.

"I think this was Malcolm's way of getting out of this dinner," Beth says, as she stacks dishes atop another. "He wanted Italian anyway."

I let myself laugh as I move with her toward the sink. We make room for each other, scrap food remnants into the disposal. I reach across to set a bowl in the second sink when Beth touches my hand, fingers my wedding band.

"I was going to tell him I'd finally picked a date," she tells me. "That was going to be his present."

I wrap her in my arms. "And you will," I assure her.

The phone begins to ring. Beth against me, I feel her heart pick up pace with my own.

Andrew answers it. He leans against the wall, his shoulders folding. From his tone, I know he's speaking to his father.

"Okay, okay," he says quietly.   Turning to me, he holds his hand out. "It's about Malcolm," he says.

Beth and I are slow to release the other. One deep breath, together, and then she nudges me toward the phone.

Andrew won't meet my eyes as I walk toward him.

A quickened beat resounds in my ears.

You love Andrew too, I remind my heart as I take the receiver. No matter what, you love him too.

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