I had to worry about getting the dinner out on time. My mother entertained Greg, Mike, and Fran in the living room while Drew used his walker to go back and forth between us all.

“You need to add more butter to the potatoes,” quipped Drew, “and don’t forget to use the fresh ground pepper on top.”

Drew was bossing me around, being what I called the overbearing “gimp chef.”

After Drew’s outburst during lunch a few days earlier, I realized it would be good for him, and good for us, to have a few friends over for dinner. The major problem between us was that we weren’t working and were spending EVERYDAY with each other, from the moment I helped him out of bed to pee in the morning to the minute I tucked him in at night. Sure, I escaped to the gym during the day but that only brought fleeting solace.

“Smells great in here,” said my mother, holding her wineglass as she leaned in the doorway. “Need any help?”

“No, Mrs. Espinosa, we got it,” quipped Drew.

I knew that wouldn’t stop her. “Eric,” she moaned, “are you sure?”

“You could check on the vegetables.”

Out of the corner of my eye I could see Drew hobbling to the side as my mother crossed to the stove. “Why don’t you go visit with your friends, Drew?”

“I’m fine, Mrs. Espinosa.” He stood his ground, determined to watch my every move.

Our guests sat around the dinner table, eating with politeness but I knew the chicken was overcooked, the vegetables completely undercooked, and the potatoes loaded with pepper.

Fran continued drinking more wine, sharing giggles with Greg and Mike. “Did you hear about Chastity Bono’s skiing accident?” A mischievous smile spread across her face as she gnawed on practically raw carrots. “She was found face down in a bush.”

Drew pushed his plate away from him.

“Everything all right?” I asked.

“No offense Eric, but the chicken is like a rock, the vegetables are raw, and the salad has too much oil in it.”

A dead silence fell across the table. “You’re right,” I said. “Let’s face it, you’re the cook in this family. Not me.” I stood up from the table and picked up the phone. “I’m ordering pizza.”

Fran raised her glass to the middle of the table. “I propose a toast: to two large pepperoni and mushrooms.” Greg and Mike quickly followed her lead, including my mother.

“And,” barked Drew, “make sure they COOK the vegetables.”

“Bitter, party of one, your table is ready,” mumbled Mike.

“Oh, Drew, you need to relax,” belted my mother. “Come over her and sit by me and I’ll give you some sugar like the time Eric was a little boy.”

“Mom, don’t.”

“Eric sprained his wrist playing baseball and for an entire month he wasn’t allowed to play any sports. This made him so angry but he was so adorable that when he would pout, he looked like THE GRINCH THAT STOLE CHRISTMAS.”

Drew calmly took his walker and hobbled into the other room.

“Drew!” I yelled. “Come back here!” But he simply disappeared into the other room, my mother motioning for me to let him go.

“Caffeine getting you down Drew?” mumbled Mike. But silence was the only thing that followed. No one was laughing.