Twenty
THE REST OF WEDNESDAY and Thursday passed uneventfully. Soon, Helen and I are in the kitchen at the Rectory on Friday evening.
“Can you go check the crabs?”
Helen looks at me as we’re putting more corn in a pot on the Rectory stove. Anna, Clark, and Vivian are on the back patio around the boiling pot of Maryland blue crabs, waiting for Helen's instructions on how to eat the creatures.
“Helen, “ I say, “you know I can barely eat those things, much less cook them.”
She looks at me. “Oh, yeah! I forgot that time when we had friends over for crabs.”
“Look, I’m just happy no one was injured when the pot turned over.”
“The pot turned over,” Helen pokes me, “when someone started screaming like a little girl.”
“Hey,” I say, “those little claws of theirs hurt!”
We laugh when Helen’s
