(If you want to hear Lori read the story click) here

 

 

A few weeks ago Zack tentatively mentioned that sometimes some of the soccer moms invite the team for dinner. Of course I did not HAVE to but I could if I WANTED to. 

 

I have perhaps mentioned that Zack is a low maintenance offspring, having not realized that he too is allowed to have a bad day once or twice a year. So when I heard of a chance to actually go out of my way for him, I leaped. 

 

I started planning the day before, buying copious amounts of pasta, and garlic bread. Zack expressed his appreciation both in words and in the effort to help get ready. He swept the deck and vacuumed the living room. The shoes have not been lined up like that since our pretwin days. But he did have one tiny request. 

 

I was happy to comply. I bought normal looking fettuccine, and a white loaf of bread. This was not the time for a nutrition commercial for famished athletes. 

 

I began cooking on time, and started the three apple pies, and big salad, with two large pots of water heating on the stove. Then the phone rang. It was a woman who has been suffering from depression. John is doing the memorial service for her mother. I tried my best to chop carrots while still sounding interested but one handed knife skills are not my forte. She went on for a long time. Finally I gently mentioned that I was having twenty varsity soccer players for dinner and should get ready, when she launched into stories about her own nephew's insatiable appetite. I was beginning to sweat. I said good bye and went into warp speed. I tried calling John to come home and help but he did not pick up. I alternated between cutting apples, ripping lettuce, opening spaghetti sauce jars and texting John. They began calmly enough.

 

 

A few minutes later, trying not to get water on the phone, I sent another.

 

 

He was not responding. The clock chased me, and Zack texted that they were on their way. I picked up the phone once more and called. John answered. 

 

"COME HOME RIGHT NOW!!!!" Click.

 

He tore out of the parking lot, double the speed limit. He heard a siren and thought the worst. Should he ignore the red light? He considered driving on the sidewalk around slow cars. Was his family going up in smoke?

 

Zack walked in and got right to work helping to set the plates out and put ice in the pitchers. John burst through the door ready for blood and I yelled.

 

"Stir the pasta!!!"

 

He looked shocked. I had called him home with pumping adrenaline to stir the pasta????

 

The dinner went well, and the young men were both courteous and appreciative. I was happy.

 

But I think I will remember to double my cryptic messages to a lengthy eight words next time.