“Everything that happened?” The words emerge of their own volition; I have no idea what Aunt Chana is talking about

A

unt Chana has invited me over for the evening. It’s a change from Bubby’s house, that’s for sure. And Aunt Chana serves beer-braised meatballs, wild rice, and zoodles for supper, a refreshing break from Bubby’s usual rotation of chicken and rice or fish and potatoes.

“A family supper, an experience, right?” Aunt Chana laughs as she sets the table.

I smile back, but it’s not really funny. It’s sad.

One of my cousins walks in, tossing her bag at the foot of the stairs.

“Deens? How was your day, sweetie? Go call the others, okay? We’re having supper.” Aunt Chana barely pauses for breath. “And wait! Say hi to Ashira. She’s here for the evening. We figured you could do with some company, it gets quiet by Bubby, no?”

The last sentence, apparently, is addressed to me. Aunt Chana looks at me laughingly as she says it, and I’m not sure whether to shrug or agree or just change the subject.

I make do with a noncommittal “Mmm,” which seems to work.

Then my cousins troop in, and I'm promptly rendered invisible.