Joseph put down his fork. "Could you please not use that tone of voice."

Margo glowered back at him and they engaged in a thirty-second stare-down. Margo resumed eating her meatloaf. Three forks scraped irritated cheap glass plates while the washing machine hummed nonchalantly in the background. The kitchen clock ticked on.

Joseph let out a sigh. "I just think you should eat a little slower."

"I'm going!" Margo stabbed a potato in the serving bowl. "To eat." She shook it off onto her plate for emphasis. "As fast." She stabbed another. "As I want to." Margo landed the second potato on her plate without breaking eye contact with her father. Pushing her messy hair out of her eyes, she resumed her meal.

Joseph breathed noisily, his nostrils flaring ever so slightly, as he watched his daughter. "Your mother spent hours cooking this meal," he finally said, his voice rising.

"It's good mom." Margo smiled at her mother. 

"Thank you," said Susan in a whisper. "Would you like some more green beans?"

"Yes please," said Margo. She heaped green beans onto her plate, speared five on her fork, met her father's eyes and stuffed them into her mouth. 

Joseph tried to resume eating. He took a bite, glanced out the window, and checked his watch. He looked back at Margo finishing her meatloaf. He slammed his fist against the table. "Just! Slow! Down!"

"I don't have to sit here and take this," Margo glanced from her father to her mother.

"It's not healthy," said Joseph.

"This is ridiculous!" Margo leaned back in her chair and gave her mother a pleading look. Susan returned it with a shrug and a nod back at Margo's father. "I'm not thirteen!"

"Listen to your father," said Susan with a saccharine smile. 

Margo rolled her eyes in agony. "I'm a doctor for christ's sake!" She threw her napkin on the floor and stomped upstairs to her room.