Turkey glasses

Munch, munch, munch… That’s the sound of Aunt Lisa working her enormous jaw. This time, I cannot blame her, as the turkey was as dry as Uncle Danny’s humor.

“What’s wrong, doughnut? Eat, eat, you look skinny, hahahah.”

That’s him laughing at his own joke that I heard only forty-two times. I counted. I am weird that way.

Yes, I am overweight, but so is his whole family. When he said it for the first time, I gazed at him, thinking: do you own a mirror? I waited for my family to defend me, but nope. Only chewing sounds filled the air, and I missed the opportunity to speak up. When he said it the second time, he continued without pause with other nonsense, suspecting I wouldn't respond. He was right. I’m not sure who I hated more. Him for being a dick, or me for being a pushover. I settled on imagining taking the soggy salad in my hand and throwing it into his stupid face, and it was enough. After all, what can a person like that hear? Does he even have a receptor function? This explanation, however logical, didn’t chase away the feeling of failure that lingered for days.

I hated this ritual. We meet on the first Sunday of the month for dinner. All because of Aunt Lisa’s only son, Franciszek. He got accepted into American University and is living a lavish life in California. The first call he made was to flaunt how wonderful Thanksgiving Day was. Everyone got together and, across from the turkey, shared what they were thankful for. So, Aunt Lisa had to one-up him and decided we should meet once a month to stay connected as a loving family.

It would be a charming idea if we truly loved each other, but most of the time, I doubted much sympathy was involved. I am just a sixteen-year-old without a say in family decisions. But why did my parents accept this, hating it as much as I did? They say if you don’t know what it’s about, it’s about money. Uncle Danny is my dad’s biggest client. Boy, did he miss the memo advising against getting into business with family, but here we are.

Although I wonder what will happen today. My brother has Asperger’s, which got him a lifetime pass from Aunt Lisa’s and Uncle Danny’s comments. They tried, but every nasty remark was met with my brother’s silent stare, saying: I know the exact location of all your arteries, and I can show you with a scalpel. He is premed. That left me to torture. But today Patric is bringing his girlfriend, Meg. They had known each other for four months, and once Uncle Danny heard about that development, he insisted she join our dinner. No one ever saw her, and we will get acquainted today. I would pity that girl, were it not for my hope that I can get a break from that ritual of putting me down.

It's not starting well for her, as Aunt Lisa hates stragglers. As soon as we stepped over the threshold of their home, we were met with, “How lowly to see you.” It would be a great beginning, were it not for their gaze sticking to my body from head to toe, saying that nothing about me was lovely. But this time it was cut short with, “Where is Patrick and his you lady?”

“They will be ten minutes late.”

“Well, that’s a terrible first impression.”

Usually, after greetings, we would spend at least thirty minutes hearing news about our family star, living in the USA. You see, Aunt Lisa and Uncle Danny are wealthy. Over the years, we heard a lot about the inheritance, and how terrible the premature death of her in-laws was. She can’t quite keep the happy glint from her eyes when she says it, but at least Frank could benefit, making us all proud. Well, pre-USA Franciszek was excluded from the topic as the missing guests’ tardiness made Aunt Lisa speed up the dinner. Unlike her usual self, she rushed us to the table and ran with bowls and trays of food. It was weird. We wanted to wait for the missing couple, but Aunt Lisa’s chewing filled the room, and that gained me my ritual joke from Uncle Danny.

I put the dry meat in my mouth, and that’s when the doorbell rang. Instead of welcoming the newcomers, Aunt Lisa yelled with half-chewed food in her mouth, “Enter.” We heard door noises, clothes rustling, and they came. My brother, with his usual calm, boring accountant look, but Meg, ulala. She wore a short, red skirt matched with yellow tights and a black wool sweater. She also had a nose ring and thick eyeliner, saying fuck you, I don’t care what you think. I fell in love on the spot so hard that even the turkey gained flavor.

She was the first one to smile and speak, “So sorry for being late. It’s completely my fault.”

I was about to stand to say hi, but Aunt Lisa growled, “Sit,” which stopped me in my tracks. Once they were settled, my aunt continued, “What is the reason for such tardiness?”

“Patric was checking my knowledge before tomorrow’s test, and we lost track of time.”

“Oh, you’re in school together… I don’t know if it’s a good idea for a lady to spend so much time studying.”

“It’s good if you want to become a doctor.”

“Hmm, I see you’re one of those career women.”

“Isn’t any woman with a job, a career woman? What is your occupation?”

“Well, I have the most important one. Raising kids and creating a warm home for my husband.”

“Oh, how old are your kids?”

“It’s not important, young lady,” Said a fifty-five-year-old woman with an adult son. “Without a fancy degree, I can keep track of time.”

“Brilliant.” She looked at me and said, “You must be Jane. I heard a lot about you from Patric. How’s your writing?”

My eyebrows probably landed in my hairline, and I felt the heat painting my cheeks. My brother is great at school, but not talented when it comes to social skills. We talk, but it’s more like a monologue to a TV. You have much to say, but nobody ever responds. I didn’t know he heard me, so I cleared my throat and answered, “I—”

“What are you talking about, girl? Most Jane writes are recipes for new chocolate cookies,” said Uncle Danny, chuckling.

“Wow, rude. And wrong. Jane writes short romance stories.”

“Yeah, to substitute the real life.”

“Is he always like that?” She asked, looking at me.

“Yes.”

“Why? What’s wrong with him?”

Before I attempted to eee not sure what… Answer? Laugh? Ask for her autograph, Aunt Lisa interjected. “Well, that’s preposterous. You come here late, and offend my husband?”

“Oh, he did it by himself, with comments worthy of a teenage boy.”

“How dare you? You don’t know us. Jane doesn’t mind.”

“Did you ever ask her?”

Aunt Lisa looked at us as if she were forced to sing a Chinese anthem.

Meg broke the silence, trying to sound cordial, as if she didn’t just verbally slap the hosts with a wet rag in the face. “But I heard you have a beautiful ritual here, to be thankful once a month for all the good things in your life. I think it’s fantastic.”

“Well,” Spoke Aunt Lisa, gathering her jaw from the floor, “It might be a good idea to start. I am thankful for our son, of course. Frank, who is in the most prestigious school in America, making us all proud.” She said it, looking at Meg with bug eyes, trying to resume her importance.

“Oh, Franciszek is your son?” My hero interjected. “That’s so cool that you support his dreams of becoming a rapper.”

“A what!?”

“A rapper. He has his first single and is trying to sell it on the streets. That’s how all the great ones started. Especially since he could use the money with the baby on the way and bail.”

Uncle Danny gasped, coughed, and spat out half-chewed turkey, which landed on my mom’s glasses. Mesmerized, we watched as it slid down the specs, only to land on her plate with a loud splash. She didn’t dare to move.

“Bail?” Aunt Lisa asked.

“Interesting, that’s what gained your attention.”

“Well, you’re obviously lying.”

“That’s what he said to the knocked-up girl.”

“Our Frank is a Christian.”

“Oh, I bet she kneeled a lot. Honey,” she looked at my brother and continued, “I would not want to assist with possible cardiac arrest, so how about we bounce?”

Patric grabbed Meg’s hand, stood up, and with the calmest voice said, “Thank you for the lovely dinner.” And they left, while my mom still sat with her turkey glasses.

Aunt Lisa recovered the fastest, saying, “Well, I hope you will have a talk with your son about his unfortunate choices in personal life. But I think it’s good that it happened, as we know who is worthy of our company. Vivid imagination is one thing, but creating such personalized lies is another. I suggest we forget about it and move on without our lovely ritual. Jane, would you be so kind as to continue? What are you grateful for?”

I opened my mouth with everyone’s eyes on me, prepared to say my usual bullshit about health and the family, but then I looked at my mom. She was finally cleaning her glasses so I could see her face. Bags under her eyes made her look tired and defeated. A sad look for a kind and warm woman. I loved her, so I said the first thing that came to my mind. “I am grateful for Meg.”

Then I stood up, left the room, put on my shoes, and went outside. A few brown and yellow leaves decorated the street, whispering about the upcoming fall. I filled my lungs with fresh, warm air and went for a walk. A church bell rang, encouraging people to attend Mass, but I felt a different type of invitation. I was the same person, and yet I felt lighter, as if my lungs suddenly expanded their surface. Each inhale seemed to fill me with strength and joy, even though my cheeks were hurting. I haven’t smiled that long since I was a kid. I changed my direction towards home, as I couldn’t wait to start my new romantic story, with a heroine called Meg.