Dora, elbows on the table, plays with a slice of blueberry pie. What were they thinking, they got you to babysit, Dora says.
I don’t need no babysitter. I ain’t no baby. Yes you are, you baby brat, Alise says. The kid flips blueberry pie in Alise’s face.
Face it, your car is on its last legs, her mechanic Jordan tells her. What you are going to pay to get it fixed will cost you a lot. You might as well spend a little more and buy a new secondhand car. You bought the car from your cousin, yes? Must have been 10 years ago. I remember you saying the cousin wanted to buy an SUV. Say, maybe that cousin will sell you that old SUV for cheap now.
Nope, not me. You won’t catch me buying a gas guzzler, Alise says. She frowns, ending the phone call without saying goodbye, not what she meant to do.
Next she calls her niece Jenny to tell her what a bad day it is turning out to be. “First the Medicare people call me, Jen. They said there were all sorts of changes. They told me I had not applied for Part A B C D E F G, whatever, in time. And now my premium has gone up, …