“Come on, Grandpa,” I said. My voice was gentle when addressing him, but I pitched it loud enough for the nearest tables of guests to hear clearly. “You’re sitting with me at the head table. You paid for this entire family’s existence; you are absolutely not going to eat your dinner in the garbage.”
I didn’t wait for him to respond. I slipped my arm under his shoulder and gently, firmly pulled him to his feet.
I was entirely unaware that by doing so, I was pulling the pin on a grenade that would permanently, spectacularly obliterate my family.
2. The Fall of the Patriarch
I guided Arthur slowly but purposefully through the crowded ballroom. The ambient chatter of the wedding guests began to die down instantly as they noticed the young woman in the plain dress escorting the frail, elderly man toward the front of the room. The soft jazz music seemed to amplify in the sudden, uncomfortable silence.
I led him directly to the head table, bypassing the glaring bridesmaids, and pulled out an empty, ornate chair right across from the towering, five-tier, fondant-draped wedding cake. I helped him sit down, placing a crisp, white linen napkin on his lap.
