Tenney

Sunday Supper

All week, Tenney pores over her songwriting journal after homework each day. Most of her older songs feel flat, but one, “Home Again,” written after last year’s road trip to Knoxville, still holds promise for the Mockingbird showcase, if her parents ever let her play it. She tries to stay patient, echoing Portia’s advice to focus on her music.

By the end of the weekend, Tenney decides to bring it up herself at dinner, since her parents still haven’t answered. Tonight is Sunday Supper, a monthly Grant tradition held on the backyard patio, where Tenney makes the salad, Mason handles the grits and ribs, Mom bakes cornbread and banana pudding pie, and Aubrey sets the table. Tenney usually loves it, but tonight she feels prickly. She’s unable to stop thinking about the showcase.

Near the end of the meal, once everyone seems relaxed, Tenney casually mentions that they should call Ellie Cale soon to let her know whether Tenney is performing. Mom explains gently but firmly that she and Dad think she’s too young for a music career. Chin quivering, Tenney argues the showcase is hosted by a record label and could be her big break. Quoting Portia, Tenney counters that there’s no such thing as too young in music, only readiness or not. Mom counters it was never about the performance but what it could lead to, and Dad points instead to the Jamboree, where they’re happy to let her perform.

Stinging, Tenney carries her dishes inside and overhears Mason arguing on her behalf that even if it leads somewhere, she could always say no later. Dad cuts him off. Still upset, Tenney heads into the family room, where chairs wait in a circle for the Grants’ regular Sunday music jam. Tenney doesn’t want to participate this week, but she knows her parents won’t let her off the hook.

Dad offers her first pick, tuning his own guitar as he waits, but she shakes her head, so he turns to Mom instead. Mom brightens, settles her Autoharp on her lap, and picks out the opening chords of “April Springs,” an old song about rain washing away love, her voice growing strong and woodsy against the shimmering Autoharp until Tenney wonders what really happened at Silver Sun Records. Dad joins in on the next verse, and by the chorus, with Mason and Aubrey singing, too, Tenney’s frustration softens and she sings along, feeling connected to her family again. They play song after song until Aubrey starts yawning. Dad carries her to bed, Mason heads to the garage to tinker with his broken amp, and Tenney stays to help Mom with the dishes.

At the sink, Tenney rinses while Mom loads the dishwasher, both quiet before Mom, drying her hands on a dish towel, admits she knows tonight’s decision hurt Tenney’s feelings. Pressed on why she’s so against it, Mom opens up. She grew up singing and playing, and at nineteen a producer told her she had real talent and helped her record a demo. She learned the hard way that a music career takes relentless hard work, and chasing it changed her relationship with the thing she loved, since she loved making music but never loved what the business did to her. That’s why she wants Tenney to stay a kid a little longer. She pulls Tenney into a hug, and though Tenney knows Mom means well, one worry won’t let go: what if a chance like this never comes again?