Margot took a long draw from the foam cup. “Here, hon, you’re looking sort of pale.” Leslie placed a tall Coke with lots of ice in front of Margot. There was no affectionate ruffling of her hair as he slid off the stool and carried the huge jug of Leslie’s coffee down the dock toward the funeral home. Stan seemed confused for a moment, like Margot was going to take it back. “Well, you don’t have to be a smartass about it,” Stan snapped. Margot mulled that over for a moment or two and nodded. Who cares? In a couple of months, some other catastrophe will catch their attention and they won’t even think about your flamingo problem. You got embarrassed in front of a bunch of interns. So you misunderstood an e-mail, big deal.

But I don’t think you’re a ‘fold under the weight’ kind of gal.

But who was Stan to lecture her on pulling herself up by her bootstraps when he was living in a sleeping cubby at a funeral home? She almost opened her mouth to ask Stan to leave her with Aunt Leslie to discuss the matter, but he followed up with “I know I haven’t spent much time around ya. Margot didn’t mean to frown at her father, she really didn’t. You can either lean into it and try to ride it out, or you can fold under the weight.” “Sometimes life just stinks like a bass in your couch,” Stan said. Margot lifted her head and saw that, yes, it was her father who had just spoken and not some helpful bystander. “You know what I’ve learned?” Stan asked. She knew she shouldn’t have said anything in front of him. How disappointing for him, to find out the daughter who’d devoted all her time to her career was failing at keeping that career. Stan, on the other hand, simply stared at her, frowning and saying nothing. “Thank you, Aunt Leslie.” Margot sniffed. People around here still talk about how intimidating you are.” But you’re still plenty cynical, sweetheart, trust me.

Sweet Tea and Sympathy by Molly Harper