Bite Your Tongue

There was not enough wine to get me through this. There would never be enough wine in the entire world to get me through this. 

I didn’t want to be here. There was a reason why I moved across the country. The negative remarks made about my life, my looks, my everything would be masked as “constructive criticism,” and as a journalism major, I should be used to constructive criticism. 

Except my professor never told me I’d end up an old, shriveled spinster who wasn’t even worthy of having a hoard of cats. Which, of course, was told to me lovingly.

Now I sat in my childhood bedroom drinking what would probably be considered a second bottle of wine. I suppose I shouldn’t refer to the room as a ‘bedroom’ as there was no actual bed in it. At least, I don’t remember sleeping on a treadmill as a child. Gone were my memories and replaced with home gym equipment that were obviously seldom used. But having a home gym was something to brag about I guess. 

Chatter from the living room filtered down the dark hallway and managed to slip through the crack under the door to reach my ears. In my tipsy haze, I could still manage to make out what was being said. My mother’s syrupy voice always carried which is why she perfected the art of negging. 

I stared out the window blankly as she gossiped about the neighbor’s latest affair. Beverly Cleveland was notorious for chasing younger men and despite tongues wagging about her behind her back, she remained one of the most influential women in town. 

“I saw her with Johnny Fields, you know, the 20-something-year-old from the car dealership? Brazenly holding hands in her back pocket!” Mother was saying. “It astonishes me that she is able to continue finding these youths to date, yet Katie is still single! I may just have to ask Bev to help poor Katie land a man!”

My eyes shut tightly of their own accord at hearing my name. This was already the sixth mention of my lack of love life since I walked through the front door late last night. I’ve also heard several comments about my weight. Heaven forbid anyone have any belly pudge over the top of their jeans. Mother wasn’t thin herself, hence the unused home gym, so I think she punished everyone else around her that wasn’t the size of a toothpick. 

A tap at the window startled me and I growled at the wine now bleeding through my top. There’d been mere drops in the glass but it was just enough to spread widely and leave a stain. 

“Sorry,” came the muffled voice of my only cousin. He was the golden child of the family as we were the only two offspring from both sides and I couldn’t help but resent him a little bit for only ever knowing positive love. “You good?” 

I didn’t even attempt dabbing at the wine and instead stared blandly at him. “What little bit of me looks good?” 

Hank scrunched his face slightly as he looked me over. “Your earrings are nice.” 

I huffed and abruptly closed the curtains before trudging over to my suitcase. I hadn’t bothered to bring any other nice top - not that it was nice enough for my mother in the first place - as I’d be leaving tomorrow anyway. The best I could do now was wear the well-worn flannel I had planned to wear on the flight home and resign to Mother’s comments about it. 

Hank was already in the living room scarfing down Deviled Eggs when I left the safety of my old room and gave me a lopsided smile. I half heartedly waved a particular finger in his direction when Mother tutted behind me. 

“Well, Katie, when I told you to dress for the occasion, I didn’t mean to dress like the farmer that raised the turkey.” 

More wine, my mind pleaded. Give me more wine!

After a lifetime of receiving such commentary, I’ve learned the best thing to do was not respond. The few times I had resulted in Mother playing the victim and accusing me of criticizing her and then I’d be punished in various ways ranging from spankings to my car being towed away and I was responsible for paying it to be freed. 

I longed to shout back at her, fling underhanded biting comments that would make her question her entire existence. I wanted nothing more to pour out my frustrations in how I was treated for my nearly twenty-two years of life. 

But I couldn’t. Not at Thanksgiving. 

Not when Mother was the nicest one in her family. 

I could smell Aunt Jasmine before she appeared in my line of sight. One too many Botox injections made her face look as though she’d been stung by a swarm of bees and her heavy makeup didn’t help matters. Nor did her cloud of perfume, scented by her floral namesake, mask the scent of cigarettes that she swore she stopped smoking years back. 

“Well, well,” she said in her best Jennifer Coolidge impression, “you could have at least tried to make an effort. But I suppose this is why men tend to avoid you. No respectable man would want a homeless person on their arm.”

I swiftly turned my back to both her and Mother who were now completely dissecting every little bit about my appearance. An unopened bottle of wine called to me and I clung onto the cold object like a lifeline. 

If only they weren’t paying for my school, I’d never speak to these people again. I applied to every scholarship there was and didn’t receive a thing. Any job I interviewed for would be promising and tell me a start date only to call me back a day later and say they went with another candidate. I was stuck with a waitressing job that barely paid my rent in a three bedroom apartment that housed five people. 

I was cursed with the worst luck in the world along with the worst family. And I was completely reliant on them. 

A timer went off somewhere and I quickly made my exit to the living room where the men gathered. Father’s boisterous voice caught everyone’s attention no matter where they were and he enjoyed it. If he could, he’d walk around with a spotlight perpetually on him. 

Father was currently bragging about his latest car that surely didn’t indicate he was going through a midlife crisis. I’d heard him complaining at his receding hairline early this morning and how his company was starting to show signs of financial struggles. 

Uncle Aaron held an unlit cigar between his teeth. He never lit one but claimed he was addicted to the smell of them. He and Aunt Jasmine would get along if they didn’t hate each other as siblings often did in their youths. Their bitterness just happened to carry on into adulthood. Any harsh comment Aunt Jasmine made, Uncle Aaron had to take it a step further. 

Uncle Seth, Father’s brother and Hank’s dad, was hiding behind the newspaper as he always did. He didn’t talk much but when he did, it would always be some snarky response. I would almost consider him my favorite relative since he was so quiet, but lately a lot of his snark was aimed at my hopeful profession in journalism - despite his constant perusal of newspapers. He claimed journalism was dying and ran only by snowflakes who were offended by everything. I had to bite my tongue to not show I was offended by his statement. 

Hank was still eating the platter of Deviled Eggs and somehow managed to project the sounds of his chewing over Father’s voice. I avoided going near him to prevent any egg spittle covering me as it’d happened before several times. 

My back hit the wall next to the fireplace and I slid down to sit on the floor. I was partially hidden between the fireplace and bookcase, a fact I learned years ago when I wanted to not be noticed but had to be part of the gathering. 

I popped open the bottle of wine and began guzzling it down without a glass. Father changed topics to the latest in sports which then quickly turned into how disappointed he was that he didn’t have a son that he could’ve taught ball to. Never mind the fact that, as a child, I begged him to teach me anything just to have his attention and I was always brushed off. When I turned to books and writing as comfort was when he really began laying it on thick that he had always wanted a male heir to take on the family business. 

“Dinner’s ready!” Mother’s voice rang out nearly half a bottle of wine later. 

I blinked in drunken stupor as the men grumbled about, “Finally. Swear it takes longer and longer every year,” and made their way to the dining room. I placed my bottle on the floor and as I stumbled to get to my feet, knocked it over with my knee. I watched in intoxicated fascination as the red wine spilled over the lush white carpet and seeped into my pants. 

I giggled. Wouldn’t it just figure I’d ruin both of my ‘nice clothing’ in one night? 

Leaving the mess behind, I stumbled into the dining room where everyone was already gathered and passing food around. My spot, tucked into the sharp corner where I was now going to have to squeeze through, looked haphazardly placed. 

“Katie!” Mother admonished in horror. “What have you done?” 

All eyes turned to me in that moment, ranging in varying degrees of disgust. Father looked absolutely disappointed at my presence. Aunt Jasmine’s face contorted as though I had been sprayed by a skunk. Uncle Aaron’s criticizing gaze seemed triumphant for whatever reason - probably because his youngest sister’s daughter was a mess. Uncle Seth muttered under his breath about youths not being able to handle their liquor. Hank just shook his head at me.

“You’re better than this…” he said forlornly. 

Anger bubbled within me. For too long have I kept quiet about their comments and mannerisms. The temptation, the need, to tell them off was right on the tip of my tongue and still I held it. 

Until…

“You’ve coddled this girl too much!” Father accused Mother. “If it were my boy, he’d be impeccably put together at all times!”

Mother gasped indignantly at having the blame placed on her but it soon turned into a shriek when I knocked over the nearest vase. 

“Well too-freaking-bad you’re stuck with such a waste of a daughter!” I seethed at Father who stared at me in shock. “I’m surprised you even let Mother birth me with how much you hated me from the beginning!” 

“Now you wait a minute, young lady -”

“Oh, don’t even start, Uncle Aaron!” I rounded on the man who dared speak. “You think you look cool with a cigar? You think chewing on the end of a cigar makes you a tough guy? You look like an absolute tool! It’s also probably why you’ve never married!”

“And you!” I pointed to Aunt Jasmine who had begun smiling at her brother’s glare. “We all know you’re still smoking. You don’t need to bathe in a bottle of jasmine oil and burn our nostrils to cover up the smell! And you should sue your Botox technician. You look like you’re one injection away from floating off like the GoodYear blimp!” 

“Bite your tongue, woman,” Uncle Seth muttered.

“No, Uncle Seth, I won’t! As a journalist, it’s my job to report the truth. And guess what? Your wife is cheating on you. Why do you think she’s not here?” 

Hank began to stand up and protest. “Don’t!” I held my hand out to him. “You didn’t have to deal with their bullshit for years. You’re the only male heir in the family, you’re untouchable. But hey! Do any of them know that you were kicked out of college and you’ve only been faking going to classes so they’ll still pay for everything?”

“Katherine! That is enough!” Mother slapped the table as Hank and Uncle Seth began squabbling.

“You wanted me to be here!” I threw my hands up. “I wanted to stay in Maine but you forced me to come over for Thanksgiving or you’d report my car stolen again and you know I don’t have enough money to bail it out!”

“I told you to let her keep one of the jobs she applied for,” Father scolded Mother. “You just had to go calling them and telling them how terrible an employee she was!” 

My stomach dropped and Mother’s face turned ashen. “Wha- what?” I croaked. 

“She’s been keeping you reliant on us so that you would have to do her bidding,” Father declared. “She didn’t want you moving across the country and away from her!”

“She’s my only child!” Mother shouted angrily. “I have every right to want to keep her by my side!” 

“By denying her a good job?” Uncle Aaron scoffed. “You’re ridiculous, Hildie.”

“You don’t have children, Aaron, what would you know?” Mother snapped. 

“What in the Lifetime movie is going on?” Hank asked aloud. 

My head was spinning at the latest revelation. My own mother had been calling up all the jobs I’d applied for to tell them to not hire me? She wanted me to fail so that I’d come running back to her? 

All the wine churned in my belly and quickly made its way upwards and out. There was new screaming and the sounds of chairs scraping and plates shattering as my family scrambled out of the red bile’s range. 

“Absolutely unacceptable!” Aunt Jasmine was screeching at the top of her lungs. 

When my stomach had emptied itself of its contents, I slowly straightened up. I felt horrendously awful and my head was starting to pound like crazy but I kept my chin up as I glared back at everyone. “I quit this family,” I managed to say strongly. 

Mother gaped. “You can’t just quit a family -”

“I can and I am,” I interrupted, trying to calm my quivering chin. “You have done nothing but put me down my entire life and now I see you all clearly for the first time. You’re all awful. You don’t care about anything but your own selfishness and being better than the other. I don’t even know how you two got married!” I gestured to my parents. “You don’t even love each other!”

“It was a bet,” Uncle Seth informed us. 

“What!” 

I was stunned again by the new information. Apparently, so was everyone else except Father who was glaring murderously at his brother. 

“Our dad made a bet with Nate that he’d never marry by 27, so Nate went out and dated Hildie and married her.”

“I knew it!” Aunt Jasmine shrieked as Mother started throwing plates at Father who was protesting his innocence. 

“I was just a bet!” Mother’s voice reached a whole new octave no one has ever heard before. 

“Seth is deranged! He’s always been jealous of me - he’s just trying to get in between us!” 

I stood in the midst of wine vomit, broken plates, and scattered food. I didn’t realize finally giving into the temptation of telling off my family would lead to this. Everyone was shouting at each other, the words blending together that it was impossible to pick out any sort of conversation.

Seizing my chance, I ran from the dining room to my old bedroom and gathered my belongings. Without saying anything further to the still-screaming people, I wrenched open the front door and burst out into the chilly air. 

I hurried down the street towards the bus stop. I’d take it to the airport a night early and just sleep there until my flight was ready. I’ll have to leave school most likely, but just until I could save up enough money to go back. Mother would probably have my car reported stolen again and I’d lose it for good, but my job was within walking distance from the apartment anyway. Thank goodness I was able to obtain the apartment on my own, so there’d be no worry about being homeless when I returned to the east coast.

So many thoughts raced through my mind about what I had just found out, what I had just done, and what I was going to have to do from here on out. I don’t know how long I waited at the bus stop but the large vehicle finally pulled up to temporarily free me from my mind.

The doors opened and the bored looking bus driver raised an eyebrow at my haggard appearance. “Rough family dinner?” He questioned. 

I couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled out of me as I climbed the stairs. “Actually,” I sighed in relief when the doors closed behind me, “this was the best one yet.”