The Eternal Recurrence of Sue Schuester

II- The Family

Though they had tried to be punctual, the strange misadventure at old East Litchfield had delayed the Bartleys's arrival time further than they had hoped. Trotting up the driveway, it was already twilight, and Simon could see his mom's tense silhouette in the kitchen over the stove. He cautiously tried to open the front door, but the grease-deprived hinges screeched to alert their mother to their presence. Lucas winced at Simon, knowing they'd been caught.

"Oh finally, my fine sons are back from the hunt. Your banquet is getting cold, my lords," Mrs. Bartley called with a flavor of sarcasm from the kitchen. One by one, the brothers stomped into the foyer, diligently hanging up their coats in the closet, and setting their backpacks on the wall hooks for inspection. As they filed into the dining room, she stood there, arms crossed, and her eyebrows cocked in annoyance.

"Maybe I should tell your father to put those tracking devices in you after all," she teased.

"Sorry, mom," the boys rejoined in a sheepish chorus. Mrs. Bartley then held up her hands in surrender and motioned for them to take a seat.

"Yeah, yeah, come on and sit down and eat. Your father is even later than you are," She said. And with that, they all took their places and were met with a typical medley of Salisbury steak, mashed potatoes, bread rolls and corn, their dad's favorite. Every time he was running late, without fail, Mrs. Bartley would usually have this on the table, which was most of the time. In an orderly succession, the dinner ritual began with grace and the subsequent inhalation of food. Mrs. Bartley reprimanded Lucas for eating too fast and told Micah to put away his gameboy for the 7th time. Simon ate quietly, lost in thought, but wanted to get his mind off of what was eating at him.

"What's holding up dad?" Simon finally asked, turning to his mother.

"Oh, he called earlier and said there were issues at work, 'not important,'" She replied matter-of-factly, twirling her fork in the air. "But of course you know what that means: working late again, ruining his sleep, same old same old."

"Seems a little more on edge recently," Simon remarked.

"Yeah, I think so too," Lucas commented from the other side of the table. "I tried to show him my particle accelerator model last night, but he had a bag of frozen peas on his face and said he had a headache."

"He's a nuclear engineer, son, he's entitled to be stressed," Mrs. Bartley replied.

"He said he was gonna become a domestic terrorist if his boss made him stay late again," Micah chimed in, stabbing at his steak.

"Huh, well that might explain things," Mrs. Bartley mused, looking back at the clock. "Finish eating your food, kids."

After some time, dinner concluded around 6pm, and she set the boys to work on their chore itinerary. Lucas was on dishes, Micah on trash, and Simon had the privilege of cleaning up the godforsaken mess his brothers had left behind on the table. Simon chastised Lucas for being such a hog and leaving bits of slop dribbling off of his plate, but Lucas protested that Simon was just as bad as he was, leaving crumbs on the carpet. Mrs. Bartley then called from the laundry room that if they got into it again they were forbidden from their allotted television privilege at 8, after which they worked in silence. They naturally proceeded on to their academic obligations, though Micah took some convincing, and finally the brothers convened in the living room as a reward for the work they had done. Of course, they could never agree on what to watch, but eventually after Mrs. Bartley threatened to turn on Jeopardy or Julia Child, they conceded and settled on the Simpsons, much to her exasperation.

"Are you trying to drive me nuts? Do you want to see a crazy lady fall apart in front of you?" She huffed, flipping through the channels.

"Well it's not my fault Lucas wants to watch The Lost Boys again for the 20th time," Simon grumbled, sunk down into the loveseat.