They've all just returned from their second yoga class. Nancy and Dean loved it. Sandra was indifferent. There's a baseball game on the TV in the other room, but I don't care who's playing.
An image of us all in caricature appears in my mind, our teeth bared wet and shining, tearing the flesh from a pig with our hands. I smile. Nancy checks her phone again before attending her haunch of meat.
"Are your parents enjoying Ireland?"
"Probably."
The doorbell rings. Sandra gets halfway to it before realizing she won't be able to open the door with pork fat and grease all over her hands. She stands in the living room and shouts toward the front door. "It's open, I think. Try it."
A moment later Lauren joins us with a 30-pack of beer. She was at the yoga class as well and seems slightly disappointed that Nancy changed clothes for dinner. I notice for the first time that everyone is wearing sweatpants and t-shirts except for Nancy and I. Perhaps there was a post-yoga class arrangement that she broke.
Nancy deflects. "When do they come back?"
It takes me a moment to realize that she's speaking to me. "Next Tuesday."
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