BR - Beth's Home Part 2

You quickly find that the pub is already open. You’re relieved to discover that Beth is not trying to drink; she just didn’t want whatever her mother had made for breakfast. And there might have been some truth in her excuse that you didn’t want to eat that food. It did look gross. Beth says it’s something called a ‘kipper’, but that sounds made-up to you.

Now, you look down at the plate of food that Beth ordered for you. There’s… nothing wrong with it, you just don’t understand. There are eggs, sausages, some very thick, serious-looking bacon, and that’s all normal. Toast. But there’s also a huge piece of tomato that someone has apparently tried to cook. There’s also… beans. Why are there beans with your otherwise delicious-looking breakfast? You’re afraid to ask, but Beth’s eating hers as though it’s normal.

Maybe you were wrong to assume that England wouldn’t really count as a foreign country. They really are weird. But you’re hungry and the food’s good, so you don’t complain.

Beth eats greedily and slurps scalding-hot tea as though it’s water and she’s dying in the desert. You let her do that for a few minutes, and it’s shocking how quickly it perks her up.

“OK,” you say as soon as she’s looking like her old self. “Are you gonna tell me what the fuck is going on?”

Beth looks evasive.

“Don’t,” you warn. “If you don’t talk, I’ll stand up and announce to everybody in here,” you pause, turning to look over your shoulder. All… six customers, several of whom look very old. “…that we are very, very gay lesbians and we’re getting married.”

Beth looks like she wants to call your bluff. You stare at her.

“Naked,” you add. Beth’s expression turns challenging. “With our bodies painted like the American flag.”

That makes her smile. Then she sighs.

“All right,” she says, taking a deep breath and putting her face in her hand. “Mum’s been so weird lately. And it’s upsetting me. You know my dad died ages ago.”

“Right.”

“Well, she was seeing this bloke called Robert that I liked,” Beth goes on, picking up her fork and knife again. “But that’s ended.”

“Sorry.”

Beth just sighs. “She’s been like this since. Learning to cook. Buying this house. Learning to…” She trails off, gesturing vaguely. “Do a house. Smarten it up and such. It’s not her at all. Something’s wrong. I’m afraid she’s going to tell me she has cancer.”

“Oh.” So that’s why Beth is scared to come out to her mom. She doesn’t want to give her bad news when she thinks she’s ****. Your feelings about this matter soften as you think about it. “Do you think she’s sick for real?” you ask.

“Dunno,” Beth replies, her eyes on her plate. “I really don’t.”