Lunch

Lunch

The table was set. Dad sat at the head, Mom next to him, I sat next to Mom, and my older brother, James, sat across from Mom, next to Dad. No one sits in Marcus’s place. I was excited for dessert because we always have ice cream for dessert at home. My favorite is vanilla.

We started eating, and Dad asked me about school. I told him everything was fine and that I really liked my new music teacher. Dad said, “Very good, Lulu, you have to study!” Then Dad asked James the same question, but about college, because James doesn’t go to school anymore. He finished school and now needs to finish college. James is very grown-up. James said everything was fine, “Yes, sir.” Mom was proud.

But then Dad started talking about politics. I hate it when Dad talks about politics. He said the news reported a workers’ strike and a lot of destruction. James always gets angry when Dad talks like that. Mom tried to change the subject, and I didn’t understand why people break and burn things in the streets. I saw a lot of fire on TV, and it scared me. What if one day our house catches fire? Only Mom sometimes explains these things to me, but even she doesn’t listen to me often.

James likes to read. Mom says he’s the intellectual of the house. “He’s been reading books full of ideas,” she said. Then James talked about the working class, and I asked what class he meant, thinking about my music lesson. Mom didn’t answer. I asked Mom again, and she said James wants to carry the whole world in his heart, thinking with his heart and about everyone, while Dad cares about the family and believes everyone should take care of their own.

I remembered a drawing I made at school. I drew a big heart and put Dad, Mom, James, Marcus, and our dog, Mila, inside it. To me, the world is my family. I think I agree with Dad. How could I draw a heart with all the people in the world? I’d need a paper the size of the world and many pens. That would take too long, and I’d lose all my vacation time. I don’t like that.

Dad and James have argued a lot since Marcus left, but I don’t remember Marcus. I was three years old when he went to the stars. Many times, I see Mom crying because she misses Marcus, and I tell her Marcus is with God. He watches over our family, and at night, I see Marcus sitting on a star, looking at us through a telescope, waving. Mom hugs me.

No one tells me why he left. Mom said he got sick of sadness. I don’t like getting sick because all my friends are at school. Grandma once said it was a car accident. Dad said only God knows the reason. But James doesn’t like to talk about God. Still, I know God loves him.

James got furious and shouted it was his choice, and said that we should accept his decision, talked about freedom and the rope. But what rope? Marcus hangs. Why does he hang? “He hangs from the star,” Mom corrected. “But now he’s climbed back up to the star and is sitting on it,” she explained. Dad got furious and slapped James’s face with an open hand. Mom started crying again. When Mom cries, I cry too.

My new music teacher tells us about Beethoven. He was deaf because he couldn’t hear anything, but he still made music because he knew the sounds by memory. I don’t even try to ask Dad or James things anymore. It’s useless—they’re deafer than Beethoven.

At that moment, Dad slammed the table, and I got scared. James stood up violently, pointing his finger in Dad’s face! Mom started saying Dad was right about this, but James had a good point about that, and that she understood this was important but also needed to consider the other thing one of them had said—but I forgot what it was. I started tugging on Mom’s sleeve, but she told me to let go, she was busy. Then Dad and James started shouting ugly words. They talked about Marcus again, yelling angrily and not listening.

And then I got very angry, started crying, and screamed in fear. Then everyone stopped, and I said I hated politics. It only brings problems into the house because it never listens, and Beethoven knew how to listen, even though he was deaf! Yes, ma’am, the teacher said it, because he listened with his memory, knowing the sounds by heart. I talked about the fights and how I didn’t like any of it. I ran to my room. I was very angry and not hungry anymore—not even for ice cream! Mom tried to talk to me, and James apologized, and so did Dad. But I didn’t want to hear it. I stayed in my bed and fell asleep.

The next day was the best lunch! Because Dad and James didn’t talk about politics. There was a lot of Beethoven because everyone wanted to know about my music lesson, and I talked a lot. Everyone wanted to listen to me. I told them how Beethoven made beautiful music, and I liked it a lot. And for dessert, there was vanilla ice cream. It was very tasty.