Chapter 27
Taryn“You sure like green beans. Don’t you, Olivia?” Shannon asked.
Olivia looked around the table of adults and squirmed as she stacked pieces of green beans onto her fork. “They’re okay. For vegetables.”
“I didn’t like vegetables when I was little either. Not even green beans,” Shannon confessed.
Nora pointed her fork at her son. “Jeff would always eat his veggies. That was the rule if he wanted to have dessert.”
The safety of green bean talk didn’t mitigate the banality, which gave dinner the tone of a surrealist play. I considered shoving a green bean up my nose. How far would I have to shove it to put myself out of my misery? I speared a bean, and it flopped on my fork. Too limp. Asparagus. That’s what I needed to end it all.
Sweet baby Jesus, why did Shannon have to
