Megan watched her sister emerge from the tiny vehicle and walk towards them. Jess was always a bit on the chunky side (although she always referred to herself as ‘Rubenesque’) and seemed to have put on a few more pounds. Whether it was from the pregnancy or just the result of sheer indulgence had yet to be determined. Her fair hair, once the envy of the family, was done up in an absurd imitation of Princess Leia’s, with what looked like an oversized chopstick jutting comically from the center of it. Her clothes were every bit as jarring: a long flowered skirt and a white blouse with puffy sleeves that seemed influenced by an episode of Seinfeld. Stephen could not help himself and started laughing hysterically at the sight of her. This time, his immaturity drew no reprimand.
Walking by Jess’s side with his arm draped around her was her fiancé, Ricard (nee Richard). He was as gaunt as she was rounded and hid his gaze beneath a pair of tinted sunglasses. His hornet’s nest of bleached-blonde hair gave him the look of the struggling artist he often pretended to be. Despite the warm weather, he wore a long-sleeved purple silk shirt and a pair of white pants that were too tight for a girl, much less a grown man to be wearing. There was not a single happy face amongst the entire family when he stepped forward.
“My dear family,” Jess greeted with a hint of ennui. “Hello.”
“Hi Jess,” Drew replied uneasily. “Ricard.”
“A pleasure as always,” intoned the former Mr. Landry. Yet when Drew extended his hand for shaking, he did not return the favor.
There were greetings all around, most of them brief and unsavory. The rest of the family sat down while Glen fired up the grill. Fearing an ugly confrontation, Drew rushed off to help.
“So?” Grandma Ida asked. “When are you going to have the baby?”
“Oh…. late August, early September,” Ricard mused. “About two weeks before the wedding, we hope.”
“Two weeks?” Nancy asked, the tension in her voice rising.
“I don’t see what the big deal is, Mother,” Jess contended. “You and Father were hardly married a year when you had me. You were three years younger, too.”
“Enough,” said Nancy. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“…And then it wasn’t long after that before Meg came along…”
“I said enough!”
“…And Carrie and Stephen, too. A pity. One more and you could have bought a minivan.”
Ricard chuckled dryly at his soon-to-be wife’s witty repartee.
The children watched the scene unfold with morbid curiosity. Stephen’s eyes were wide and his mouth shut. He knew his sister was being a bitch and he felt bad for his mom, but he couldn’t help be entertained.
Carrie prayed that Jess would say no more, and God help Ricard if he decided to open his mouth. Like most of the family, she couldn’t stand him. However, her reasons extended quite a bit beyond everyone else’s base objections. Ricard had taken to verbal jabbing her at every one of their few interactions. When she was in her tomboy phase, he called her Pat (after the androgynous Saturday Night Live character). When she went straight edge, he asked her if her oneness with nature precluded her from taking showers. He had yet to comment on her pseudo-gothic attire, but she knew it was coming any minute.
“Hey Meg…” she whispered, but her sister seemed lost in a trance.

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