“My brother is bringing my mom down from Stamford for a visit. We thought this would be a good place to meet, so my nephews could play while we talk.”

Meredith has been taking a break on the smokers’ bench outside; she doesn’t smoke, but it was a plausible lie. She joins Oscar and they head inside.

“Hey, some advice,” Meredith says as Oscar holds open the door. “Don’t get the salad bar – I once saw a kid lick a cherry tomato and put it back.”

Meredith feels that the jarring sounds and lights of the “restaurant” have all the hallmarks of a hangover, but without the memories of a fun night before. She goes to check in with the birthday boy’s mother, Cynthia. She thinks she may help her with the plates and favors, but stops when she sees that Cynthia is organizing the gifts, stacking and reordering them in some complicated system that seems tied to the size of the box and the skill of the wrapping job.

It looks like Cynthia can handle it.

She decides to move away from the birthday area, with its crazy-scary animatronic beasts, and instead sits at a booth where she can both observe Jakey and Oscar: Jakey, because his Chuck E Cheese history was not good; Oscar, because she has finished her Real Simple magazine.

Oscar is standing in the middle of the arcade area, leaning on the Ninja Turtle game. Meredith sees that he has three binder clips, each a different color. The clips’ function becomes clear when his nephews start running up to him; he is in charge of keeping the game-dispensed tickets separate. After the boys run off to another game, Oscar periodically reshuffles the tickets to even out the amounts. Meredith used to do the same with Jakey and Wendi, until Wendi got wise and started stowing her tickets in her own Disney Princesses fanny pack. Wendi did not feel Jakey should reap the benefit of her Whack-A-Mole skill.

Oscar’s mother joins him and they lilt into Spanish. Meredith’s Spanish vocabulary does not extend much past nachos and margarita, but she can still tell by their tone that they are sliding into an argument. She guesses what it is about when Oscar’s mother sweeps her hand in the direction of Oscar’s brother and sister-in-law, and then follows this gesture with a jab of her forefinger at the one, two, three grandchildren Oscar’s brother has given her.

Oscar’s mouth tightens. He looks down, clips and unclips the red binder clip.

Meredith recognizes the mother’s posture: arms folded, head cocked. Leaning back, as though to put distance between herself and her disappointing son. Meredith had stood the same way earlier after a teenaged employee had pulled Jakey off the top of the skee-ball game.

Meredith moves to Oscar’s side, slips a hand in the crook of his arm and leans into him.

“Oscar? Aren’t you going to introduce me to your mother?”