Web of Angels by Lilian Nattel Page A

to the goddess of mercy.
    “Do you have enough room there, Dad?” Dan asked.
    “Everything’s good,” Jake said, eating slowly. He was nearly eighty, his belly gone, his hair wispy and white, his eyes watery, the colour faded.
    “Your back out again, Bram?” Mimi asked as if he threw his back out every week.
    “Yeah. Again.” Bram came from a small town back east, where his family owned McMurray’s Diner. The town was built beside a marsh, which gave off a sour air that hovered over everything, and all the regulars at the diner ate with sour faces as if they could never get rid of the smell. Men in his hometown spent their wages on nice cars, they didn’t fix up houses. Bram had grown up being teased and beaten by his brothers to cure him of being fey. Compared to them, his in-laws were harmless, and he was usually good-natured about these family dinners. But tonight his back hurt, and he hadn’t been able to play handball with Dan that weekend. His face soured as if he was breathing the marshy air of his hometown. “I think this is the worst time. Don’t say anything, Eleanor.”
    “Like for instance that you had to carry the old air conditioner yourself?” They preferred fighting with each other to anyone else, making up as vigorously except when his back was out. “It’s been sitting in the garage for years. I told you I’d hire someone.”
    “Eleanor, with you—something new?” Mimi asked. “Maybe you go back to school?” Eleanor stared back at her mother. Bram grimaced. Even with the ObusForme he couldn’t sit long.
    “Look Mimi,” Bram said. “Let it go. It’s been twenty years since she quit school. And Sharon went to a lot of trouble to make this f—” (his wife’s elbow) “fantastic vegetarian meal. So if you don’t mind, I’d like to just eat it and go lie down.”
    “Hmmph.” Mimi’s eyes moved past her intractable son-in-law toward the kids’ table. They were chattering, digging into mac and cheese, Judy having rice. She had given up on making kissing noises, and instead was asking Cathy about makeup. Sharon glanced over her shoulder at the girls, who were raptly attentive, as, with an imaginary brush, Cathy demonstrated the correct way to apply powder. She looked back at her mother-in-law, certain that Mimi was about to say something she shouldn’t.
    “Mental illness—” Mimi began
    “How’s the tofu teriyaki?” Sharon asked.
    “You bought it, didn’t you?”
    “Yes. But it’s just the same as if I marinated it in teriyaki sauce. All the vegetables are organic and I didn’t use canned beans in the salad.” Mimi believed that metal was toxic for Jake.
    “You should make the sauce yourself. How do you know what’s in it?”
    “I can take the package out of the garbage and show you.”
    “No, don’t bother.” She dumped his teriyaki into her bowl, and served him bean salad over rice instead. Sheapproved of rice, heaping bowls of it. “You aren’t having any rice, Eleanor?” she asked.
    “I’m on a diet.”
    “Even the best wife can’t make miracles out of a pantry without rice. What kind of rice cooker is that?” she asked, staring at the microwave rice cooker on the counter. “It’s so small.”
    “I got it for them. It’s just the right size,” Eleanor said. She turned toward her husband, arguing with him in a whisper. He replied in a testy undertone. Their eyes locked. Even with his bad back, they would manage to make up later. There were ways. Through the wall they could hear the teenage son next door playing the saxophone.
    Mimi peered over at the kids, pushing up her square glasses to see better. “The girls look very nice today. You, too, Judy. Even with running shoes, you have a nice sweater. Your Auntie Sharon picked a good colour and a good style to make for you. Put the hood back so everyone can see your face.” Judy screwed up her nose, but obeyed. She took after her father, wiry, unmusical, allergic to wheat. “There is nothing