“My legs are still killing from standing during the party,” Dorothy kept repeating the same words for the past five minutes, since the jet started flying.

“Hey, you,” Elizabeth looked at Benjamin. “Can you not hear my mom’s pain?”

“Yeah, her legs are hurting. I can hear that,” Benjamin said. “What can I do about it, though?”

“You should massage her legs,” Elizabeth said with entitlement. “She’s old and doesn’t have enough strength in her fingers, so you should help her.”

“Sorry, but can’t you do that since she’s your mother?” Benjamin asked what he thought was a valid question.

“I’m not good at it,” Elizabeth blurted. “You work at a pizza-shop, right? So, you must have the experience of squeezing dough. Just do the same but with more softness and less intensity.”

“Can’t you tell your kids to do the same?” Rebecca asked Elizabeth, clearly not liking how her sister-in-law was trying to make a slave out of Benjamin and also shame Rebecca at the same time. “If you are going to say that th