The Tozer family were anxious. It was the hour of the evening meal, the daily ritual that Sarah and Tim believed held their family together. The family that dines together stays together, they told themselves. What should have been a simple, calming routine had become the most stressful part of the day.
Sarah, the matriarch, began preparing dinner hours earlier because everyone wanted something different. Ingredients were lined up like soldiers on the counter. She tried to calm herself with breathing exercises before she started. Even so, her stress rose steadily, like steam from a pan.
She had recently left her job in a local café. Mashing potatoes and stirring custard had proved too much; on one memorable occasion she had confused the two. Shopping was no easier. Crowds made her anxious, and the custard aisle in particular filled her with dread. She had married young, terrified of being alone, and over the years her fear of solitude had somehow grown into an equal fear of people.
Her husband Tim was a placid man with a deep fear of work. Just thinking about his job gave him palpitations. He dreaded mistakes, especially the idea of his boss pointing them out. Every evening he recounted his day to Sarah, which only made her anxious about how anxious he was.
They were ill-equipped for each other, and even less equipped for parenting.
They had two children. Kate, in her teens and about to leave school, rarely left her bedroom. The world beyond it felt unsafe. Jody, approaching secondary school, was anxious about his name and what it might imply. To cover every possibility, he experimented with being both a boy and a girl, which only made him more afraid of being the wrong thing at the wrong time.
The pressure they placed on the family meal – that missing even one would somehow cause the entire family to collapse – only added to the tension.
Tim arrived home at 5:01 p.m.
The single minute was catastrophic.
He burst through the door, already apologising, his bag hitting the floor. Sarah panicked at his lateness; Tim panicked at her panic. Both teetered on the edge of a breakdown before they even reached the table.
Sarah called upstairs to Kate, assuring her there were no zombies outside her door and that she should come down. The raised voice alone was enough to overwhelm Kate. Eventually she appeared, wearing ear defenders, and sat in the chair closest to the door in case she needed to escape. Today, however, the cat had claimed it.
Tim tried to help.
“How was your day, Kate?” he whispered.
The whisper terrified her. She saw lips moving with no sound. Her hands began tapping the table, then stabbing at it with her fork, then finally her head thudded against it. Convinced her father might now be undead, she slid under the table to safety. The cat bolted upstairs. After several minutes of breathing exercises, Kate crawled back out.
In the kitchen, Sarah had burnt the sausages.
She stood over the cauliflower cheese, sobbing, calling herself worthless. Tim soothed her by praising the “smoky aroma” of the sausages. Jody watched, unsure whether to laugh or cry.
Jody was already anxious about his exam the next day, the one that would decide his next school. When he was anxious, he shrieked.
“So, Jody,” Tim said carefully, “are you ready for tomorrow? We bought you the grammar school uniform. We know you’ll pass.”
“Well Kate didn’t!” Jody screamed.
“Kate’s a girl,” Sarah snapped. “She’ll go to college and be a lawyer.”
“Well I might be a girl by then too!” Jody shouted.
Kate slid back under the table at the raised voices.
Sarah dropped the peas. One rolled towards Kate’s feet. Kate screamed. Jody banged the table. Peas scattered. Kate curled into a ball, convinced she was under attack.
Tim chewed his nails. Sarah cried harder. Tim twitched so violently he caught Sarah’s ear by accident while trying to comfort her.
Then the phone rang.
The electricity bill was short by twenty-three pence.
Sarah wept as though they had lost the house.
“Bailiffs will come,” she sobbed. “Prison. First the sausages and now this.”
Tim sank into his chair.
“I’ll never be able to retire early.”
Dessert did nothing to help.
Kate couldn’t eat ice cream because of tooth sensitivity. Jody ate her portion. Kate accused him of calling her fat and got stuck trying to climb out from under the table. Tim couldn’t add jam because Jody might be allergic “as a girl.” Sarah needed ice cream emotionally. In the end, no one ate it.
They settled for biscuits and tea. Kate refused sugar. Jody refused biscuits. Sarah stared into her mug, convinced her soggy biscuit was a metaphor for her life. Tim ate alone.
The cat returned, jumped onto Kate’s empty chair, and was promptly startled by another dropped plate. Jody fled. The cat fled. Kate fled.
Tim swept peas from the floor. Sarah sobbed into a burnt sausage.
Life for the Tozer family was impossible.
The End
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