Chapter 27
LUCY
Afew months before the shit really hit the fan, my father uttered what I believed to be a throwaway line.
“If that’s good enough for Eddie,” he said.
His sixty-fifth birthday was a few weeks away, and he and I were going over the entrees we could serve for dinner.
“If what’s good enough for Eddie? The veal?”
“Oh, I’m only joking, honey.”
I shrugged. “Uh, okay. That’s a weird thing to joke about. Why would Eddie care what we served for your birthday?”
“Forget I said anything.”
But I couldn’t.
Was my father turning on Eddie? Had Nia been right all along? Had the gnawing feeling in the back of my brain been more than just me being tough to please?
I let it go without pressuring my father any further, but it reared its ugly head at his birthday a few weeks later.