The Other C-Word by MK Schiller

business card holder prominently on his desk, then took out two photo frames. I smiled when he put out the smaller wooden frame. I could tell it was a picture of his parents. It instantly filled me with compassion for him. I didn’t know how many guys his age would display a photo of their parents at work. He’d said they’d died ten years ago, and I imagined him to be close to my age, so he’d probably been in high school when they’d passed away. I wanted to ask him, but it seemed too probing a question. Plus, whenever you asked personal questions, you typically had to answer similar questions in return, and I wanted to avoid those.
    I studied the couple in the photograph. Rick had features from both of them. The woman was kissing the man on the cheek, and they looked content and happy. I imagined they were very affectionate parents. The next photograph he put out had the complete opposite effect. It was larger, silver framed, highly decorative and contrasted greatly with the simple wooden frame next to it. This photo was of a beautiful, brunette woman, smiling brightly. It appeared to be a professional picture—like my senior pictures—but this woman was definitely not in high school. As gorgeous as she was, I instantly disliked her. Was it his sister? I didn’t think so. There was only one explanation. He had a girlfriend. All of the sentiments I had been feeling towards him dissipated, and I ungraciously chomped on the Zesty bar.
    Rick started talking about how he wanted me to set up the empty bookshelves in the office, going over which catalogues and portfolios he needed. I was paying attention, but my gaze kept drifting to the photos on his desk. He must have noticed, because he paused mid-sentence and stared at me sheepishly. “The small one is of my parents, and the larger one is the girl I’m dating.”
    “I didn’t ask,” I retorted.
    “I know, but you seem interested, so I’m telling you.”
    “I’m not interested,” I muttered, then I cleared my throat and repeated, so there was no confusion, “I’m not interested at all.”
    He nodded in understanding, grasping the full meaning of my simple statement.
    “I can arrange the shelves tomorrow if you don’t need anything else.” It was five and I had to leave to meet Stevie at the bridal salon.
    “Tomorrow is fine.”
    I headed out of the door swiftly, but he called my name causing me to stop in my tracks. “Marley, I am really glad we’ll be working together, and I am sorry for offending you.”
    I turned and pasted a fake smile on my face. “Yes, me too. I’m sure it will be a great learning experience for me.”

    * * * *

    The usual cast of characters were gathered around our large dining table. There were my sisters, Stevie and Billie, and next to Stevie was her fiancé Adam. Next to me was my BFF, Dillon. The matriarch, my mother Emmie, sat at the head of the table. We ate vegan spaghetti and meatballs and talked about the upcoming wedding, while Carly Simon played softly in the background.
    The meal was very good actually, and most of us had seconds. My mom brought out the vegan pudding—or mousse or whatever it was—after the dinner plates had been cleared. I stared at my bowl while everyone else stared at me. I was usually the initial taste tester for my mother’s desserts. I felt like Mikey from those cereal commercials. I nibbled on a small spoonful and nodded appreciatively. “Pretty good, Mom.” I smiled encouragingly, which signalled for everyone else to dig in.
    We all loved dessert. I guess that made sense in a house full of women. Since my mother became a vegan, desserts were tricky. She was a great cook so we didn’t mind the vegan thing, plus we all loved her to pieces, but it’s damn difficult to make something sweet without white flour, sugar, milk, eggs or butter. The flour and sugar had nothing to do with being vegan, but my mom thought they were the Devil so we abstained at home.
    “It’s time for dish and