Not Who I Thought You Were

Here I am again, just like every year. I know the holiday’s are supposed to be the “happiest time of year” and everything, so I’m sorry to all of the holiday lovers, but I absolutely hate the holidays. Every year I get dragged into stupid holiday dinners with my family and I’m sick of it. No one cares about talking to me, and it’s just a bunch of politics, and sports talk, and the other kids get included but they’ve never liked me. 

Let me introduce you to my family. It all started with my Grandpa Jack, who recently retired from work as a lawyer at his own huge firm, which was Brady and Williams. After my Grandpa Jack Brady and his best friend Owen Williams, my grandpa is probably the sweetest and wisest man I’ve ever known. He fell in love with my Grandma Nina obviously favors my cousin, Jenny, but I’ve learned to ignore it. After falling in love, the two had my Uncle Carl Brady, who pretty much completely discarded me from the family, but is a businessman at one of the biggest accounting firms in the country. He married his wife, my Aunt Laura who kisses up to my grandparents but doesn’t really like my family very much. Aunt Laura and Uncle Carl had my cousin Jenny, who doesn’t talk to me much, because she thinks she’s so much better than I am, but honestly I’m okay with that. They also had a son, who is a year older than me, Mitchell Brady, who out of the kids is the one I’m closest with, he’s probably my best friend. Him and I have always been pretty close and I’m so thankful for him, because at family functions, they aren’t as bad with him around. Next, my grandparents had my Aunt Elle Crosby, beautiful, fun and bubbly, a great person and former professional soccer player, who even played on USA’s team, and loves, who married my uncle, Isaac Crosby, a very successful author, who wrote some of the most read fantasy novels. My Aunt Elle has a girl baby on the way, which is why her soccer career ended. Finally, my grandparents had my dad, Owen Brady, a sweet, loving man, just like his father, and noticeably named after his best friend, who took over the family business, Brady and Williams. My father married my mother, Amelia Brady (formerly Amelia Henderson) , a woman, who had a kind heart, and worked as a news reporter. My parents had my sister, Virginia, who I don’t exactly get along with, simply because she and I have never really seen eye-to-eye on things. Then, my parents had me, Stephanie Brady, sixteen years old and the baby of the family, and since I’m the “baby” I’m not heard, yet I have to hear my family’s annoyingly awful remarks, because they always try to target one another.

Yet, you’re in luck, because it’s Christmas, and because it’s Christmas, I have to go to Christmas dinner at the Brady family home, and you’ll get to see all of the holiday dinners I have to sit through, but this year, I’m determined to either skip going, or not speak, so I don’t have to deal with snarky comments from my family. Don’t get me wrong, I love my family, well most of them.

“Dad!” I called out. “I don’t feel so great. Maybe I shouldn’t-”

“Steph, I love you, but you have to go. I know you don’t really like sitting through these dinners, but this is your family.” Her father interrupted.

“You’re right, I’ll just sit through it.” I replied. Another year of the Brady family Christmas dinner, what a joy, that is not joyful. A few hours later, my family and I left our house and traveled the half an hour drive to the Brady family home. We got to the house, and just like always I hugged all of my family, and got to Mitchell.

“Are you ready for the family dinner of the year?” Mitchell asked sarcastically.

“Of course, Mitchell.” I said, giving him a hug. “Hey, I’m going to go see grandpa really quick, I’ll be right back.”

“All right, see you in a second.” Mitchell responded.

“Hey grandpa.” I greeted my grandfather, by giving him a hug.

“Hey Steph!” Grandpa replied. “I’ve missed you, sweetheart.”

“I missed you too!” I said, this time I’m not lying. I love my grandfather very much, he’s a great person, he and my father are very similar, and my father is my biggest role model, so maybe that’s why I love him so much.

“So, what are you up to, Steph?” Grandpa asked.

“Not much, I’ve had basketball practice a lot recently.” I said. “What about you, Grandpa?”

“Same old, same old.” Grandpa answered. “Oh, your Aunt Elle is trying to get my attention. I'll talk to you later, Steph.”

I nodded and walked back over to Mitchell, when he asked. “Hey, want to go upstairs? Grandma said we could as long as we come back up in twenty minutes.”

“Sure.” I said, and we walked over to the steps and proceeded to walk up them. We both instinctively went to the library because that was where Mitchell and I have always hung out. Once we got up there and both sat down comfortably, I uttered, “Oh Mitch, I really don’t want to have to hear everyone cut at each other’s throat tonight. One day, someone will actually slit at someone else’s throat, and when they do I won’t be surprised.”

“Me too, Steph. I say we just whisper a side conversation to each other the whole time, so we don’t have to listen to their stupid commentary.” 

“Agreed.” I said to my cousin, which was what I’d really like, just to not have to talk to my family, who most of which don’t even like me. 

I’ve learned to ignore it though, I’ve pretty much spent my whole life dealing with it, Mitch and I have pretty much clung to one another so we don’t have to deal with it. This is because most of my family members are pretty good people at heart, but once they get to that dinner table, all of the anger comes out, and they use that anger to hurt each other. 

We continued to talk, until twenty minutes had gone by, so we walked over to the stairs and went down them taking our places right next to each other at the table. We always sat the same way, it was almost like there were assigned seats but there weren’t. At the head of the table was Uncle Carl, then sitting next to him on the right side was my Aunt Laura, next to her was my grandma, then my grandpa, then my Aunt Elle and Uncle Isaac. At the other head of the table was my father, then my mother, then me, Mitchell, Virginia, and my cousin, Jenny.

It was always just the way it was, it never changed, and it never would change. I sat down, and Grandpa Jack began to pray, “Dear lord, bless this food to the nourishment of our bodies, thank you for this family and all its blessings, keep us safe, amen.” 

“Amen.” Everyone said in unison.

My family all began to talk, yet not Mitchell and I. We continued to have side conversations, about what we thought was right on the topics of what the rest of the family was talking about, which most of the time was the exact opposite of their opinions.

We did this until my Uncle Carl, a very stubborn man said, “Mitchell, Steph, engage in the family, y’all can talk to each other any time, but who knows how many more holiday family dinners we all have together.”

“Yes sir.” We both said, turning to face forward instead of each other. I had been 

half-listening to their conversation, so I knew they were talking about my father’s latest case. My father is a lawyer at a huge multi-billion dollar firm that was my grandfather’s, but was passed down to my father when my grandfather retired.

The case my father assigned himself and was working on was a murder case. Supposedly, a woman slit her husband’s throat, the husband and wife have two kids, a daughter in college and a son in high school. The woman is my father’s client, she also claims to be innocent. I’ve solved the case, and it wasn’t the woman, the husband, who was killed, the woman claims to have been in the library reading, wearing noise canceling headphones as it was happening. When this happened the daughter was at college, but the son was home. The son claims to have been outside playing basketball when he saw his mother with his father’s dead body and a knife next to it. Everyone thinks it was the mother, but I think the son did it, because the father has been charged with child abuse, therefore I think the son did it to get revenge.

They were all voicing your opinions, when this time my dad said, “Steph, Mitch, any opinions?” He asked.

“No, I actually agree with you, Uncle Owen.” Mitchell said.

“Steph?” My uncle said, but it really didn’t matter what I said, none of them cared.

“Yeah, actually. I think the son did it-” I started.

“Steph, that’s absolutely crazy.” My uncle said, cutting me off.

I’ve tried to keep a low profile, but I can’t keep going on like this, so I stood up, everyone looked over at me and for once I had everyone’s attention. “I’m done, when I don’t talk I get scolded for not being engaged, but when I speak my opinion I get called crazy, and it’s not fair. I know the son did it, the husband has been charged with child abuse. The son says he was playing basketball, while the wife was reading in the library wearing noise canceling headphones she didn’t hear him come in and he slit his throat to get revenge for abusing him as a child.” I said leaving the room, and to be frank I don’t feel too bad for it. I hear footsteps coming behind me, assuming it was Mitchell, I said, “Mitch, I’m fine.”

“I’m not Mitch.” At the sound of my father’s voice, I turned around. “C’mon Steph, you’re better than this, you can’t throw temper tantrums like that, you’re sixteen, and you’re also embarrassing yourself, so I want you to go back in there and apologize and act normal. I just don’t expect this from you.” He sounds so disappointed, that’s not normal. 

So I walked in there, apologized and sat back down. This has never happened, my father and I normally see eye to eye on this, as it has been happening for years. I always thought my dad and I were pretty much the same person, turns out you don’t know people as well as you think. When feelings make people rise to the occasion, I don’t think you really know who anyone is. Feelings are powerful, especially if you feel pressured to do something, feelings make you say things, and words can cut like a knife.