You've been cerved.

Wounded warriors and boats

Andersen shoveled food into his mouth as he drove. Vibrant colors - red, green, orange, yellow —combined into balls of brown goo that splattered across his normally beautiful smile as he shot Tamra another grin in the rear-view mirror.

Tamra watched in fascination. "Do you...do you maybe want a napkin?"

"Nah, I'm good," Andersen used the back of his hand to wipe his mouth. "Thanks for letting me take a quick detour!"

"Drop everything and run. Andersen and his wounded warriors," Claire, her arms crossed, stared out the window, her mood dark.

"Was that who that was?" Tamra had stayed in the car while Andersen ran into the McDonald's. He'd emerged with an older, drawn man in a McDonald's staff apron. The two men had chain-smoked cigarettes while sharing what appeared to be a serious conversation.

"Yeah, one of the guys in our little informal network. We promise to call each other when things get bad. Stop that, Claire," Andersen elbowed his sister, who was using her finger to circle her ear.

"What? It's the universal symbol for PTSD. You owe me six bucks for the McMeal, by the way," Claire said.

"I'll see him again tonight after work. We'll go bowling or something." As Andersen spoke, small bits of chewed up burger shot out of his mouth and onto the dashboard.

"So I guess I'll be grocery shopping for everything this afternoon and then cleaning the entire house by myself tonight? That's after baking for the wake, changing Dad's sheets, your sheets, Liam's sheets, Darius's sheets..." Claire ticked off her chores on her fingers.

"And you always said Mom was the martyr," Andersen rubbed his sister's head affectionately.

Claire was too incensed to speak.

"You're disgusting," Tamra couldn't help herself.

Andersen glanced at himself in the mirror. "I think I'm all right." He used his tongue to clean a spot of ketchup off his chin.

"I can't believe you have a girlfriend," Tamra rolled her eyes.

"You have a girlfriend?" Claire asked her brother, her eyes narrowed.

"Girlfriends, Tamra means, plural...and yeah, I have girlfriends whenever I want. I'm a grown-up and I'm adorable," Andersen gave Tamra a slight head shake.

Both Claire and Tamra wrinkled their noses.

"Just don't eat in front of any of them," Tamra finally said.

Claire sighed. "Look, Andersen, can you and the other boys at least keep the laundry going tomorrow? I've got to drive Anita to Richmond."

"Nope," Andersen tapped his steering wheel. "Tomorrow me and the boys are going hunting. It's perfect weather for it, and we need to get out and bond in light of recent events."

" 'In light of recent events' ?" Claire mimicked.

"We need to process our grief," Andersen explained.

" 'Process your grief' ?" Claire mocked, turning towards her brother.

"Anita gave us permission," Andersen was defensive.

"Figures it was Saint Anita. I can't believe she had the nerve to marry JJ," Claire muttered, slumping back into her seat.

"If you hate Anita so much, what are you driving her up to Richmond for?" Andersen asked.

"So she can get pregnant and I can enjoy watching her figure and her life blow up," Claire sounded a bit more cheerful.

"Oh, is this the IVF again? JJ mentioned something about it. It's like, what, her fifth try?" Andersen wrinkled his perfect forehead, trying to remember.