Have you ever thought about

What protects our hearts

Just a cage of rib bone and some other various parts.

So it's fairly simple to cut right through the mess

And to stop the muscle that makes us confess.

We are so fragile

And our cracking bones make noise

And we are just breakable, breakable, breakable

Girls and boys

You fasten my seatbelt because it is the law.

In your two ton death trap I finally saw

A piece of love in your face that bathed me in regret.

Then you drove me to places I'll never forget.

We are so fragile

And our cracking bones make noise

And we are just breakable, breakable, breakable

Girls and boys

We are so fragile

And our cracking bones make noise

And we are just breakable, breakable, breakable girls...

Breakable, breakable, breakable girls...

Breakable, breakable, breakable girls and boys...

The mechanics of cutting meat was pretty funny when you thought about it. Especially when someone did it the wrong way. Well not the wrong way - just a different way than people typically did it. Typically people used their dominant hand to do the cutting, and their less dominant hand to do the holding down part - the part that made it so the meat wouldn't slide off the plate.

Pam did it differently. Pam used her dominant hand to hold the meat down and her less dominant hand for cutting. She also tied her shoes differently than most people. Why these things - in this moment - caused my mouth to quirk upwards in a grin, I didn't know. Perhaps it was easier than focusing on what was really going on.

Collecting mundane little details about Pam was my hobby...but since we'd arrived here - at her parents house - at this time, it'd become more of a business for me. Nay, an obsession...What would Pam do? Would she sit down or stand when she entered a room? Would she get up and make coffee for everyone? If so would she suddenly decide to use only half a scoop for 5 people or pile enough coffee in the filter for a small army?

Unfinished sentences, half eaten snacks...she was a walking cliffhanger this week, and I found myself a little bit afraid of the next episode.

Tonight, she was cutting entire steak into the smallest little pieces I'd ever seen. Then she finally tasted it. The expression on her face never changed...it was like she hadn't tasted anything at all.

"So what did Janice have to say?"

I looked up, at the sound of Allison's voice. Hearing it sent a warm feeling through me. Pam's mom's voice sounded like Pam's sometimes and it seemed like eons since I had heard Pam's voice.

"She and Shaun and the kids...they may not be able to make it down until a couple of days after Thanksgiving...sounds like they're snowed in. Also Shaun's arthritis is acting up. Doctor Ferguson's got him on some treatment...He's gotta go in for these injections once a month...Janice says he's gonna have to use his sick leave. The guy's already used, what? Four days of it now?..."

Pam's father paused mid sentence, in an effort to catch his breath. He glanced around the table, from his son Frank Jr., his wife Allison, to myself, and then finally landed on Pam.

"God who am I gonna will all this useless information in my head to: Shaun's doctor's name, the frequency in which he needs to be treated for his arthritis...Can I leave it to you Pam, do you want it?"

Pam smiled softly as she looked up at her father. "I'll take it."

Thank you. I wasn't sure who I was thanking, but I was thankful none the less for the sounds that had come out of her mouth...for the smile.

Frank glanced at Allison and she held up one palm. "Lord knows I don't want it...Pam can have it."

"Frankie? Taker?"

"No thanks," Frankie said, scooping some more mashed potatoes on to his plate. I suspected that Frankie wasn't much of a talker under the best of circumstances. Pam's little brother wasn't exactly verbose.

"Jim? You want a piece of the action?"

I sat my fork down and toyed with the linen napkin on my lap; flashed Pam a smile from across the table before glancing back at her father. "No sir...I think I've got probably about the same amount of useless information in my own head...but thank you though, I appreciate the offer."

"That true Pamela?"

"He's got all kinds of knowledge. Some of it not so useless," she said with a slight quirk of her mouth.

There you go...come on out to play. I know it's crazy but...

She averted her eyes. I took a sip of the red wine in front of me, careful not to spill. Pam's mom was a master at the art of housekeeping. The table pristine, the settings spectacular...crystal and china.

I felt like I had to be extra careful not to break anything.

The dreaded silence settled in again and I searched for words. It wasn't usually this damn difficult.

"Your sister lives where again?"

"Missouri," Allison said, piping in for Frank before he had a chance to answer my question. I wondered why she kept doing that. The man wasn't eating much...the least he could do was submit to an interview. "And they can't make it until after Thanksgiving, huh?" Allison said, this time turning to her husband.

He shrugged. "That's what she said."

Allison just nodded and speared the next piece of her steak with a bit more force than was probably necessary.

"Allison, it's fine."

At that, her fork clattered to the fine china beneath it, and she glanced up at her husband with an expression that could only mean that it was anything but ‘fine.'

Wow...

Pam looked up, her eyes wide. "Mom..."

Allison tossed her napkin down on the food in front of her. "Excuse me."

I sat mesmerized by the way a small spot of brown from the steak began to spread over the white linen. The whoosh of the kitchen door swinging closed behind Allison quickly brought me out of the details and back to the whole thing...the whole overwhelming...thing.

I licked my lips nervously, noticing for the first time that they were really, really chapped.

"What the hell difference does it make when they get here?" Frank asked, a sardonic smile playing on his lips. "I'm just as likely to be dead tonight as I am the day after Thanksgiving...What - they'll be here in time for the leftovers."

Wow...bad, BAD timing -

Pam glared at her father for a moment and then there was another whoosh of the kitchen door as she disappeared in after her mother.

Frank Jr. glanced at me. "You want a beer?"

"Um...yes please."

~~~~~~~