[always think of George (whose name is not Jack)]

This is coming from a time when men were boys and seriously ate hamburgers and didn’t think one god damn stressful thing about it.

And Dad keeps the Jack Daniels and Sprite below the sink now, I’ve noticed, as if it’s playing hide-and-seek with the girls. Except no one should be able to find it at the end of this game. Or at least no one should be allowed to find it.

He takes it out only because he is required to take it out. It’s not like he can make everyone leave the fucking kitchen in order to pour a short glass with ice that seems to clink like, just specifically for that glass.

I think as I pass a man with a large stomach on the beach. Those stomachs. They seem soft like Santa’s sack of toys, but much to your two-year-old’s-gonna-poke-it chagrin, they are hard. Pretty hard stomachs. And it’s worse for men because that is where they store all of the fat and that is where it’s more likely to cause them to get heart disease and health problems and the like.

Still. We had to make Dad some chocolate cake for his birthday (I mean it was his birthday) and it’s not like he’s one of those men on the beach whose stomach could like hurt some infant. He’s pretty balanced. Except I felt bad when we all ordered salads at the Irish pub and he ordered prime rib and then gave the waiter a disclaimer like, “What a healthy dinner!” and we all laughed but there was also the lingering disclaimer lying below the surface disclaimer that was more like “I swear I actually do care about my health and I really want to do something about it so…”

And I wanted to swear that I ordered french onion soup and a side salad not because I was desperately trying to cling to some modern day women’s magazine ideal but because I was actually really wanting soup and salad and it was in no way a stab at Type II Diabetes.

And I think that a Really Good Daughter would have sat there with him while he had to shell probably around 200 shrimp all by his lonesome and talk to him about the way his dad use to change the oil or something. I read a book and looked out at the ocean glazing over the prospective action and realized wow it was already 5:00.


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