Pass the Gravy

Trigger Warning: Mild Swearing

My Dad can barely say ‘let’s eat’ or ‘bon appetite’ without making at least one of my baby cousins cry. I’m not joking. Thanksgiving, for other, more normal families, is a time for celebrating and spending time with the people we love. Thanksgiving, for our family, is a time where everything snowballs into a great, big, conflicting mess. The meals are riddled with arguments, insults, and passive-aggressive ‘jokes’. Sometimes, I wonder what it would be like to have a normal family. I see it all the time in Mom’s magazines. Family barbecues. Family Christmas. Family Sunday Roast. I see it all the time. Why can’t we be like that? What’s wrong with our family? Nothing, I tell myself. This Thanksgiving, we’re going to have a normal dinner and a normal, good time with no insults. High standards, I know, but I’ll shoot for it. Just for tonight. Just for tonight - tonight’s mess.

I’m in my room. I fix my tie in the mirror and comb my hair to one side. I make sure no one can hear me, and I whisper a quiet prayer.

“Dear God,” I can’t believe the words are coming out of my mouth, “if you’re really out there, please let my family have a normal Thanksgiving for once. Amen.” I clear my throat and leave my room, ready to enter hell itself. Exaggeration? No, just the truth.

“Adrienne! You look gorgeous, all up in your suit.”

“Thanks, Mom.”

“Here, have a seat next to Lexi.” Lexi is my half-sister, and also my favourite out of my family. I know I’m not supposed to pick favourites, but I still do. I sit down in my chair. I’m lucky to be sitting next to her, because she always brings AirPods and doesn’t hesitate to share them. We barely talk, just listen to AJR and smile at each other when our favourite parts come on. But even in the magic, musical world of ‘Turning Out pt iii’, I can still hear the distinct clink of the fork against my dad’s wine glass.

“Thank you, God, for bringing our family here this Thanksgiving.” It’ll be fine, quick, let’s get married…

“Especially for getting Adam and May those plane tickets!”

I try to sing to myself quietly. I can tell Lexi is doing the same.

“And we all know we’re lucky to have them, as they rarely come round ours.”

No more faking it. The walls are broken, and it’s only been 2 minutes. Adam’s face is pale and May looks ready to cry. I turn to face Lexi, and she seems to want to punch my Dad in the eye. I nod to her. Do it. Mom jumps in. I pray she’ll stop this madness, but no.

“Oh, I’m sure they’re busy with all the trips to Costa Rica they take. We’re lucky to go to Walmart, at this point!” My sister, Nora, lets out an awkward noise that I think was supposed to be a laugh, but nothing about this is funny. My big brother, Dan, rolls his eyes.

“Can we please have a normal Thanksgiving?” Dan pleads. I silently agree. I make a mental note to not give in to this madness.

“Oh goodness, Jane, you’re making your children upset! Good thing me and Adam know when to stop with our Lexi.” Lexi and I squirm. The stare from my Mom to May after her comment grows uncomfortable, so I force some mashed potatoes in my mouth. Lexi slips me the other AirPod and I mouth a silent ‘thank you’. Adam pipes in after god knows how long,

“The kids are getting a bit uncomfortable. Let’s finish our food and play Loaded Questions.” I want to hug Adam at that moment; my saviour. Even my family can’t screw up game time - right?

I’m wrong. Jesus, so fucking wrong it’s crazy. Dad calls Adam a dipshit by accident - ‘it just slipped out!’ - when he wins ‘Best Question’. May screams at Mom when she hugs Lexi after she wins. Dan punches Adam in the stomach when he insults Dad. So much for his pleading of an ‘normal Thanksgiving’. Everyone’s fighting. I sit down on a chair, pull my knees up to chin, and cup my hands over my ears. I promised to be patient. I promised to be kind. I promised I would be everything my family isn’t. But it’s breaking. Breaking slowly, like an icecap. I think Lexi can feel it coming. I can feel her gaze on me. I have intense anger issues. They’re bad. Really bad. Sometimes I’m prone to just-

“Can everyone just shut up and be a normal family for once?”

-explode. I find myself screaming. But I don’t stop. Everyone else is quiet. They’re listening. Finally. “Every year, whether it’s Christmas, Thanksgiving, or even New Year, you guys always find a way to mess it up. I told myself I would be patient this year, but it’s so difficult when you guys are busy acting like toddlers!” I leap out of my chair and storm upstairs. I rip off my tie, ruffle my hair and collapse onto my bed. Hot, angry tears spill out of my eyes. 8 years, or maybe just 2 minutes, later, a knock comes from my door.

“Come in,” I mumble. The door creaks open, and I don’t even see who it is, but I know it’s Lexi. She sits on my bed and I sit up to put my head on her shoulder. She presses play on her phone, and the beautiful songs of AJR spills into my ears. I sob into her shoulder.

“I just wanted to be a normal family,” I whimper, “I just wanted to be normal.” She speaks so scarcely, so it surprises me when she responds.

“I know,” she whispers, “I know. Me too.” Lexi wraps me in an embrace as we hear the echoes of fighting from downstairs that I know too well to be healthy, for me, for anyone.