The Queen of Mean Is Here

“Pearls, please.”

Hyatt “Hy” Rhodes fastens a string of pearls around his wife’s neck.

Lane Rhodes stands back from the mirror.

Sucking in her stomach and fluffing her auburn hair, Lane asks, “How do I look?”

“Just as beautiful as that pretty freshman cheerleader I brought home to Christmas dinner eleven years ago.”

“I looked like a scared rabbit being led to the slaughter back then. Did you remember to get the dinner rolls?”

“Yep. The King’s Hawaiian brand, just like mother recommended.”

“You mean demanded,” Lane replies. I thought parents were supposed to mellow out as they get older.”

Hy steps in front of the mirror, brushing his blonde, Ivy League hairstyle. “My mother missed that email. Her side of the family was always a bit high-strung and competitive. She raised my brother and me as if we were in boot camp, then conquered the newsroom at CBS. She worked her way up the ladder to being a producer for ’60 Minutes.’  She was on a first-name basis with Reagan, Bush, and Clinton. Working in a boy’s club really toughened her up.”

“I’ll say, but your dad’s managed to get along with her.”

“Mom always said she wanted a man who was as strong as she was. Dad was the fearless, silent type.” Sighing heavily, Hy adds, “Too bad it skipped a generation.”

“Two if you judge by your brother’s boys. They were so cute when they were babies.”

“Video games and graphic novels have turned their brains into mush.”

“It’s hard to believe that Doug is your older brother. He’s so sad and frustrated.”

“Doug’s got a lot on his plate. His kids have reached the stage where they no longer want to hang out with him.”

“Same for Dusty, too.”

“I think Doug thought if he married a strong-willed, independent woman like Dad did, he’d be all set.”

“Dusty’s got a mind of her own, all right. And she’s got enough hutzpah to stand up to your mom. But her private life is very complicated, and not private enough. “

“You know what I wished for this year?” Hy asks.

“That your mother won’t treat the family like Siskel and Ebert reviewing a bad movie?”

“Yep.”

Gagging, Lane runs into the bathroom, retching into the sink.

She comes back into the room smiling as if nothing has happened.

“I know the thought of being with my mom makes you sick, but what was that?”

“Nerves,” Lane replies.

Moving to the gifts stacked in the corner of the room, Hy piles several of them in his arms.

“Do me a favor today…”

“I’ll try to get along with everyone,” Lane replies. “All I can say is thank goodness your mother sees our relationship as an example of stability.”

“Give her time. I’ll take these gifts downstairs. We might as well open ours now.”

“Watch out for Mojo. I saw him lurking around up here a few minutes ago.”

Hy steps into the hallway, narrowly missing their cat as it jumps in front of him.

“You been at the catnip again, Mojo?”

Hy misses the first step, tumbling end over end down the stairs.

 Hy ends up sprawled out at the bottom of the steps surrounded by bent and crushed gifts.

Lane rushes down the stairs. “You okay?”

Slowly sitting up, Hy shakes a large, dented box. The pieces inside clink together.

“I told you we shouldn’t have bought Mother that glass bowl.”

Lane pushes the turkey back into the oven. “The food is covered. Don’t worry, your mom will understand about the broken bowl.”

The couple’s attention is momentarily diverted by the sound of paper being torn and scattered in the living room.

Mojo bursts into the kitchen, running up the wall.

“That’s not normal, even for him,” Hy observes.

Mojo runs past them, bouncing off a dining room chair.

“…The catnip. He found his present,” Lane says, as they hurry into the living room.

Standing amidst torn tissue paper and mangled boxes, Mojo is sparring with one of the decorations on the tree.

“Mojo! Cut that out!” Lane yells.

Mojo complies. Sitting on his haunches, he stares at the tree.

“What a mess. You think we have time to clean it up before Mom gets here?” Hy asks.

The doorbell rings.

“Nope. The Queen of Mean is here.”

Lane fakes a smile as she opens the door. Answering Lane’s pleasant greeting with a disapproving “Harrumph,” Ramona Rhodes piles her mink coat and hat in her daughter-in-law’s arms. Leaning on his cane, Tarkio Rhodes negotiates the front steps. Hy is surprised to see that his once sturdy, six-foot-plus father appears bent and feeble.

“I see you’re still vying for the Good Housekeeping award for cleanliness,” Ramona says.

“Mojo got to everything when our backs were turned.”

Ramona bends down in front of Mojo, who is still staring intently at a bulb on the tree.

“What’s the matter with it?”

Mojo swats at Ramona.

“Apparently, nothing.” Tarkio comments.

“Such self-centered, greedy creatures,” Ramona says. “They used to kill cats in the Middle Ages because they thought they were witches. Perhaps we should start that tradition again. You should have gotten a dog.”

“You said you didn’t want one because it would do its business on the rug,” Tarkio says.

“I said they should have a dog, Tarkio. Not us.”

The doorbell rings. Hy can hear his brother Doug and his wife, Dusty, arguing.

Entering with an exasperated “Jesus, Dusty, can’t we agree on anything?” Doug shakes his brother’s hand, kissing Lane on the cheek. “Long ride, bad juju. Next time it’s separate cars for me and Dusty, and we Fed-X the kids here.”

Hy looks down at Doug’s stylish shoes.

“Brand new. Bruno Magli’s.” Doug brags. “I don’t do enough for myself, so I thought a pair of five-hundred-dollar shoes might help.”

“Has it?”

“Nope,” Doug replies, making a beeline for the dining room and the liquor.

Dressed in a low-cut mini dress, Dusty takes her compact out of her pocketbook, checking her appearance. Ramona works Dusty over with a judgmental stare.

“Tart.”

“Witch,” Dusty replies. “I wanted to use a word that rhymes with it, but the kids are impressionable.”

Persing her lips, Ramona counters with, “Dressed like a street walker as usual. Women in my time liberated themselves from being sex objects.”

“If dressing like this can help liberate me from this family, then I should have come here naked,” Dusty huffs. “I had a chance to marry a dozen good-looking men, an oil baron, a football player, the mayor. Why did I pick a sawed-off, wimpy, college dean?”

“His inheritance, of course,” Ramona replies.

“You said it, Broom Hilda,” Dusty returns. “So how about you oblige me by dropping dead?”

“Enough, you two,” Tarkio says, tiredly waving his hand. “This is supposed to be a day of peace, not another chance to tear each other to pieces.”

Hy glances at his father. He is so frail he looks as if he’s sunk into the chair and become part of it.

“You embarrass this family by divorcing my son and you won’t see a penny,” Ramona parries.

“I got one word for you, Broom Hilda. Alimony.”

“And I’ve got a few words for you, you tramp, starting with infidelity. The detective I hired to follow you told me you have so many boyfriends you're doling out season passes.”

“Sure. And what does that say about your son, the precious heir to the Rhodes throne?”

Ramona turns her attention to Doug’s three children. Her formerly blonde hair dyed midnight black, twelve-year-old Sunny is wearing a black leather skirt adorned with chains, a black blouse, black eyeliner, and blood-red fingernails. Noticing Ramona looking at her, Sunny rolls her eyes.

The twin boys sit on the couch immersed in their separate worlds. Dirk plays games on his phone. His brother, Paven, is intently reading what appears to be a magazine.

“You’re raising the Three Stooges, Dusty. My grandchildren have become so uncouth they don’t even bother to hug me anymore.”

“Say hello to your grandmother,” Dusty commands.

The twins pull their heads up long enough to mumble. “S’up, grandma?”

“What is that thing you’re playing with?” Ramona asks Dirk.

“It’s a game, Massacre at Loch Ness. I’m the monster and I’m on level six. I’ve killed over a hundred zombies.”

“And become one yourself,” Ramona snarks. “And you, are doing your homework?”

“Nah. I’m reading a graphic novel,” Paven answers. “It’s about the Sub-Mariner versus the Fantastic Four.”

“At least he reads,” Dusty offers.

Turning to Sunny, Ramona says, “And what’s up with you, Vampira? Planning on being a funeral director?”

“Sure. The way you look, you could be my first customer.”

“Sunny!” Hy shouts. “Apologize to your grandmother.”

Ramona smirks. “At least this one’s got spunk. She might make us all proud once she gets through her living dead phase.”

“I need a drink,” Dusty says, speeding out of the living room.

“That’s the only thing Doug and that tart have in common,” Ramona mutters.

Doug and Dusty wordlessly drain their glasses as they stare each other down.

Hy passes by them on his way to the kitchen. “This isn’t a who can get stinking drunk first competition, you two.”

Hy joins Lane, who is basting the turkey.

“They’re really at it today,” he says, stirring the pot of gravy on top of the stove.

“I don’t understand why they don’t get divorced.”

“I’M LEAVING YOU!” Dusty shouts.

“OH, NO. I’M LEAVING YOU!” Doug returns.

Turning her back on Doug, Dusty marches into the kitchen, shouting, “You’ll hear from my lawyer!”

Hy and Lane back away from the stove.

“I get the kids!” Doug says.

Spotting a pair of oven mitts, Dusty slowly slides into them. “Good! I was worried you’d stick me with them!”

“My father may be retired, but he’s still got connections. I’ll burn you.”

“Me first,” Dusty replies. Picking up the pot of gravy, Dusty flings it at Doug. The hot gravy splashes against his sweater, penetrating down to his skin.

Doug squeals, frantically pawing at his clothes.

“How about some mashed potatoes to go with that gravy?” Dusty asks, throwing a second pot at his feet.

“That’s it! You can drink all you want, spend all you want, and you can cheat all you want. But I’m not going to let you get away with ruining my shoes!”

Doug lunges at his wife. Hy steps in between them, and the trio wrestles around the room.

Ramona and Tarkio make it to the doorway in time to see Hy, Doug, and Dusty fall sideways into the turkey, grinding it into the floor.

Whimpering to herself, Lane turns away from the culinary carnage, throwing up in the sink.

“We’ll make a holiday party out of this yet,” Hy says. “We’ll get pizza and macaroni salad from San Genero’s.”

Turning to Sunny, Ramona whispers, “Might be a blessing, considering the way Lane cooks.”

Sunny looks up from her phone to shake her head, glancing at the tree.

“Uncle Hyatt…I think your cat has the munchies.”

“What makes you think that?”

Mojo has torn off the paper from one of the gifts and is eating it.

“For heaven’s sake, Mojo cut it out,” Lane says. Running to the tree, she plays tug of war with Mojo over a ribbon.

“Cat nip overdose. Do you think we should take him to the vet?” she asks.

“He’ll be cool again in a few hours,” Sunny replies. “Put the Christmas tree lights on. They’ll mesmerize him.”

The Rhodes open their gifts as they wait for dinner. The usual sighs of regret and baffled expressions follow.

Doug is left speechless by his mother’s gift, a copy of “Making a Marriage Work.”

As expected, Hy and Lane get a gift basket from Ramona. It is usually filled with chocolate-wise men and Jesus figures. This year, Hy bites down and discovers that Jesus is made of soap.

Sunny is baffled by her Grandma’s gift of an Easy Bake Oven.

“Is it some sort of boom box?”

“It’ll make a girl out of you, Vampira.”

The twins wonder why their Grandma keeps giving them identical gifts. This year, they receive identical blue corduroy shirts. They look exactly like the shirts they’re wearing.

Sunny does not get a gift from Ramona, concealing her hurt by wiping away bits of turkey stuck to her face.

Ramona looks at her broken glass bowl. “What is this? Some sort of modern art?”

“I’ll get you a new one, Mom,” Hy says.

“Make sure it's in one piece.”

Tarkio sits back in his chair, a bemused smile on his gaunt features. “Remember when the boys were kids? We used to go to the town park and skate. We’d have cocoa with our neighbors and sing Christmas Carols.”

“Your father proposed to me when we were skating at Rockefeller Center,” Ramona says wistfully.

“One of the reasons I bought this house is because it has a pond nearby. It’s not as big as the park’s but freezes over quickly.”

“Too bad we’ve never used it,” Lane says.

“I don’t know why you think Christmas is so great,” Ramona gripes. “Those early years, before you became a lawyer, and I made it as a producer, were hell. I remember living in a three-room, shotgun shack. You were in school and working, so I hardly saw you. We ate a lot of ramen noodles in order to feed the kids. Whenever I look at a can of Spam, I want to throw it against a wall.”

Tarkio turns to Ramona. “When did you get old? Listen, everyone. Judging by all the love in this room, this could be our last Christmas together. In addition to the usual checks I give you, I’ve arranged for a special gift for everyone. Dirk, Paven, and Sunny, I’m going to need your help after dinner to make it happen.”

Hy swings open the door, letting in the delivery man.

Running across the living room, Dusty shouts, “Bobby!” jumping into his arms. Bobby Tripp somehow manages to balance Dusty and a tray of macaroni salad without dropping it. Hy rescues the tray before Bobby drops it.

“Must you carry on with every man that’s got a pulse!” Ramona laments.

“It’s Bobby Tripp! We went out together in high school.”

“You mean when you actually went to school, don’t you?”

“Nice to see ya, Dusty,” Bobby says, nuzzling her.

Ramona’s cold stare bears down on Doug. “You’re such a disappointment. Now you’re being shown up by a thirty-five-year-old pizza boy.”  

Dusty follows Bobby out to his beat-up car.

While the others have dinner, Doug watches Bobby’s car bounce up and down.

Hy picks up his phone, saying, “Right away.”

“Who was that?” Lane asks.

“It was Dad. He wants everyone to come down to the pond.”

Doug yips at the sight of the pond.

“How cool is this? Pop and the kids cleared off the snow.”

“What in the world is going on there?” Ramona asks, pointing at Sunny.

Standing behind a table with hot chocolate and popcorn machines, the young Goth waves at her family, smiling.

“Where’s Dusty?” Tarkio asks Doug.

“She took off with the pizza boy.”

“That’s all right, son,” Ramona says, “You still got three reasons to get up every morning.”

Doug marvels at the smooth, clear ice. “It’s just like when we were kids!”

“I wish I knew how to skate,” Lane comments.

The family watches in awe as Ramona skates around the pond, pirouetting and spinning like an Olympic skater.

“Look at her! She’s smiling,” Hy notes.

Having ditched their phones, comic books, and attitudes, Dirk and Paven laugh as they race their father up and down the pond.

“I bought skates for everybody,” Tarkio says. “I hope I got the right sizes.”

“This is special, Dad,” Hy says.

“And you want to know why I did it, don’t you?”

“Well, yeah.”

“When I said this would be our last Christmas together, I wasn’t just referring to Doug and Dusty splitting up. I’ve got stage four pancreatic cancer. I’ll make the new year but beyond that…”

Lane begins to cry. “Guess this makes my news a bit ironic.”

“What do you mean?” Hy asks.

“I’m pregnant.”

“Another grandchild,” Tarkio says contentedly. “Gives me a reason to live longer. Promise me you’ll try and keep her or him away from Gameboys and comic books for as long as possible. In the meantime, I’d like to teach you and my future grandchild to skate.”