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Show Motherlunge a novel 62 "They're getting a divorce," Dorothy said sidelong to Joseph, who was spearing up pasta. She continued to stare patiently at Pavia. "Reduce, reuse, recycle," I suggested again. Pavia swallowed. "Shut up," she said to me, pushing her chair back from the table. She stood up. "Jack's fine. I spoke with him earlier today." She carried her plate to the sink and began rinsing it. "Jack has an interesting path to walk," our mother said. "He's seeking to find himself in others." "He's a salesman," Pavia called out with her back turned to us. "He's seeking commissions in others." Dorothy narrowed her eyes visionarily. "1 like him." "I do, too," I said, surprising myself. I felt suddenly grateful to Jack for making me a better person, if only for a moment-the sort of person who pipes up with a good word for someone else. "Great. Everybody likes Jack. We agree he's a gem." Pavia turned to face us and smiled wearily. "I've got some work to do, so sorry-I'm going to ignore you all now. Thea, can you set them up? The couch pulls out. " Joseph helped me clear the table and wash the dishes. As we talked I learned that he and Dorothy had met at Supernal's downtown soup kitchen, the New Hope Center. On the advice of her mental healthcare provider, Rowan, she had decided to volunteer there. When she was feeling low, Joseph reported while water spilled over the plate in his hand, Dorothy raised others up. "How long did that last?" I asked. "The volunteering thing at the Center?" |