A Family Affair

You apply your drugstore red lipstick in the mirror in your bedroom. A few wire-like gray hairs peek out from the top of your head. The first one appeared about five years ago shortly after you hosted your first family Thanksgiving as a thirty-something-year-old. You lick your fingers, smooth them down, and head to the dining room. 

Twelve place settings this Thanksgiving. You set the dining table with the nice china your Mother gave you because you don’t want to hear complaints about how Ikea dinnerware isn’t suitable for formal holidays. Today is about picking your battles.

You get the name cards from their box and think about how you have to place them strategically. You, as the host, will sit at the head of the table. You shouldn’t seat your Cousin and her new Girlfriend next to your homophobic Uncle – the one who spends his retirement in Boca collecting AR-15s and sharing PragerU videos on his newsfeed. Your Cousin will sit to your left and her Girlfriend to your right. 

Your Sister is bringing her two cookie crumb goblins and they’re the only Children, so you can’t put them at a separate table. Plus, you don’t want to hear another lecture from her about the four pillars of gentle parenting. You’ll put the three of them next to your Cousin and across from your Grandmother, who’s not afraid to unleash decades of authoritative parenting on the kindergarteners. Your Sister will attempt to keep her gremlin twins from turning their meals into a science project while your Brother-In-Law, at the end of the table, will be trading Bitcoin on his phone and sneaking hits from his vape pen. 

Your Uncle will sit at the opposite right corner of the table, where he can spit his version of wisdom at your Brother-In-Law – something about how vape pens should be illegal and back in his day, real men smoked Marlboro Reds.

You sit your Aunt in between your Grandmother and Uncle, because you know no one else will be able to take another spiel on how her latest MLM scheme is going to be revolutionary. They all live together, so your Grandmother has already heard it all and has learned to tune it out. 

That leaves your Husband as the other host to sit at the opposite end of the table and your Mother, who have no choice but to sit close to each other, and who don’t get along with each other the least out of all twelve people and can hopefully tolerate each other for a dinner that happens once every year. You’ve already asked your Mother to tone down the “by the time I’m a grandmother, I’ll be in a nursing home” talk, and you’ve told your Husband that if he needs a break, he should stand up and say, “I’ll go check the pies.” You’ll meet him in the kitchen and both chug a shot of your favorite vodka. 

You stand back and pat yourself on the back for the hours you spent coming up with this seating plan that ensures everyone has the perfect Thanksgiving. You’ve asked everyone to be on their best behavior. It’ll be a great night, and everything will go fine.

In the midst of a deep breath, the doorbell rings. You down the last dregs of your wine and walk to the front door. 

You hear the squabbling just before you get to the door. You open it slowly.

“For the last time, Mom. I turned the oven off before we left,” your Aunt says as she walks in holding a dish covered with saran wrap.

“All right, if you say so.” Your Grandmother walks in smelling like she bathed in Chanel No. 5 that morning. Your Uncle removes his trapper hat as he crosses the threshold and rolls his eyes at the women he arrived with. 

You greet the three of them, take the casserole from your Aunt, and direct them to the dining room. You try to shut the door with your bottom but it pushes back. You peek behind the door to see your Sister’s Children play fighting with their toy dinosaurs in front of your Sister who’s struggling to carry jugs of Iced Tea and your Brother-In-Law who’s gesticulating while on the phone. 

“Come in, come in,” you say with a smile pasted on your face. You playfully suggest to the Children that they make a game of finding their names on the table. Child 1 roars at you with his triceratops and Child 2 exudes a snorting noise not unlike a pig, then removes his shorts and runs away. Your Sister shrugs at you as if to say, “What can I do?” You refrain from telling her that she can parent her children, thank you very much, and nod to the dining room. 

You walk the bubbling casserole over to the dining room and out of the corner of your eye, you spot your Nephew’s bare bottom running away from his mother. You sigh and place the casserole next to the turkey that just came out of the oven.

Grandmother has already managed to find the post-dinner brandy. She’s pouring more than a nip in her glass and you start toward her to offer her some Iced Tea, but then the doorbell rings over and over, like a New Yorker laying on the horn as soon as the light turns green.

Your Husband, who looked like he was trying to strike up a conversation with your Brother-In-Law before your Uncle got to him, makes eye contact with you and abruptly makes for the door. You grab the brandy out of your Grandmother’s hand and down it in one gulp. She smiles and says, “Atta girl.”

Your Mother walks in next to your Husband. She makes a point to greet every other person there first before she walks to you, sizes you up, and says, “Nice to see that you’ve been eating well, dear.” 

You feel the heat from the wine, brandy, and the evening rise up inside you like the start of a forest fire, but you douse it with water and look around the table. The plastic smile returns to your face. “Well, is this everyone? Who are we missing?” 

“You-know-who and that new friend of hers with the weird name,” your Uncle says as he cleans his glasses with his dinner napkin. 

“Right. Let me text her.” You begin to make for your phone in the kitchen. “And let’s be nice to her new Girlfriend, yeah?” you say as you’re walking out of the room. 

You find it resting on the counter with a new message from your Cousin saying they’ll be twenty minutes late. You feel your Husband’s unmistakable hands start to rub your shoulders. He says, “It’s going to be a great night, okay?” 

You lean your head on your right shoulder over your Husband’s hand and take another deep breath. You both walk back to the dining room just in time to hear your Uncle say, “Back in my day, real men smoked Marlboro Reds.” 

Just as you’re about to announce your Cousin’s late arrival, the doorbell rings. You go to the front door and open it to find your Cousin and her Girlfriend, who has a shaved head and is dressed in a black leather mini skirt, a tight black crop top, and fishnet stockings.

“Sorry we’re late. My alarm didn’t go off,” your Cousin says. You refrain from looking at the watch on your wrist that you know reads just past 5pm and take the cornbread from her hands. You know she bought it from the grocery store and transferred it to a cast iron pan, but you say nothing.

The three of you walk into the dining room. You announce to the room, “I’m so glad to have everyone together for Thanksgiving this year. Thank you all for coming.”

Your Husband smiles at you from his seat at the other end of the table. He says, “Who’s ready to eat?” 

Your Brother-In-Law finally puts his phone down only to say, “Any chance that this meat’s organic?” 

“That’s going to be a negative,” your Husband says as he picks up the carving knife. “Who wants first?” 

“Aren’t we going to say grace?” your Aunt says with a scrunched up look on her face, as if she’s just stepped in dog poop. Your Cousin rolls her eyes. 

“Would you like to do the honors?” you ask your Aunt.

“I guess,” she mutters and grabs your Grandmother’s and Uncle’s hands.

“Heavenly Father, we thank you for this meal we’re about to share, organic or not. We thank you that we have all made time to be here today as a family. A family with different beliefs and…lifestyle choices. But a family, nonetheless.” 

Your eyes bolt open. Your Cousin is shooting daggers at your Aunt while her Girlfriend scrolls on her phone. Your Husband sighs and your Nephews look like they’re playing a game of who can squeeze their eyes the tightest.

Your Aunt continues. “We ask that you save all of our souls, even the hopeless here today, so we may all witness the goodness of your face after this life.” 

Your Cousin abruptly drops her hands on the table which opens everyone’s eyes. Your Aunt says, “Amen” and puts her napkin in her lap. 

The meal begins and side conversations ensue. You listen to your Grandmother asking your Cousin’s Girlfriend what she does for a living. Your Cousin’s Girlfriend tells your Grandmother that she reads tarot cards and does reiki at the back of a CBD shop that her landlord owns. You notice your Grandmother’s face twisting as she has probably never heard the words tarot or CBD or reiki uttered in all her 75 years of living. 

At the other end of the table, your Sister is scooping mashed potatoes onto her Children’s plates and you pray that one of the four pillars of gentle parenting involves something about eating food and not flinging it across the room. You’re about to take a bite of the sweet potato casserole your husband brags about every year when your Mother says, “There must be something wrong with the Internets because no one is responding to my emails about the family cruise next year.” 

Your Mother has been trying to get everyone on board for a family cruise in the spring, but you’ve been doing everything in your power to dodge this idea. 

Your Grandmother finishes her bite of ham and says, “Nothing’s wrong with the Internet.” You try not to laugh at your Grandmother correcting your Mother on her technological faux pas. “No one’s been responding to your emails because no one wants to go.” 

Your Aunt huffs and says, “Mom.” 

“What do you mean, no one wants to go?” Your Mother puts her fork and knife down. 

Your Sister clears her throat. “Mom, it’s just not in the budget for us right now. Maybe next time around.”

“Unfortunately, these stocks aren’t doing what I thought they’d be doing,” your Brother-In-Law says. 

One of your Nephews starts emptying his peas into the napkin on his lap and you look at your Brother-In-Law and think, you’re not doing what you should be doing.

Your Uncle says, “How about that conference? I sent everyone information about it last week.” 

When you got the email, you opened it to find a graphic promising a weekend of clean family fun with a lineup of three well-known televangelists. You’re pretty sure one of them was in the news a few years ago for embezzling tithes.

Your Cousin mutters, “I think I might be sick that weekend.” 

“No one wants to go to that crap, either,” Grandmother says as she throws back some more brandy.

“Mom!” Your Mother and Aunt both say. 

“Okay! Let’s not talk about the future,” you interrupt before the conversation goes all the way south. “How about we focus on tonight? Isn’t this sweet potato casserole the best?” 

The Nephew that removed his shorts earlier then picks up a spoonful of sweet potato and flicks it across the table where it hits your Mother square in the open mouth. 

“Score,” your Cousin’s Girlfriend says. 

“I can see by that behavior that you want to play right now, but this is not the time to play,” your Sister quietly admonishes her Child.

“For God’s sake, that’s what you say to the kid?” Your Grandmother throws her napkin on the table. She looks at your Brother-In-Law. “You’re not going to do anything about what your son just did? Aren’t you the man of the family?”

“I’m the man! I’m the man!” the other Nephew, the one with the peas in his lap, shouts and begins to fling said peas into the air like confetti.

“Sons, that’s enough,” your Brother-In-Law says as he stands. 

Your Uncle interrupts with, “Can we get back to the topic of the conference? Why doesn’t anyone want to go?” 

“Honey, now’s not the time,” your Aunt says as she finishes the last of the stuffing on her plate. 

Your Mom looks at your Sister and says, “Sweetheart, did you read that parenting article I sent you? This woo-woo gentle parenting nonsense isn’t what you think it is. That wasn’t around when your Grandmother raised me and look how I turned out.”

You snort and quickly cover your mouth with your hand. 

“Do you have something to say about the way I raised your Mother?” Your Grandmother turns to you.

“Woah, this is like, getting intense,” your Cousin’s Girlfriend says. She starts digging around in the purse hanging on the back of her chair. “I think I have some CBD oil somewhere in here. Y'all might want to try some.”

“There are drugs in this house?” Your Aunt says. 

“Relax, it’s totally legal,” your Cousin says.

“Don’t tell me to relax, young lady,” your Aunt retorts.

“Young lady?” Your Cousin laughs. “What am I, five?” 

“I’m five!” the sweet potato Nephew says.

“No, I’m five!” the pea Nephew says. 

“Oh, my god. Give me the CBD. Now,” your Cousin holds out a hand across the table.

“If that’s a drug, I want in,” your Grandmother reaches her hand out.

“Mom, you can’t have that!” your Aunt tries to pull your Grandmother’s hand back but your Grandmother swats her away.

“I want! I want!" The sweet potato Nephew climbs onto the table and starts crawling across the platters of half-eaten food. 

Jaws drop and profanities are shouted as arms reach to the middle of the table to try and stop the crawling child, but no one can get a hold of him. He crawls directly into your lap, and the room quiets. Then, he takes a handful of the mashed potatoes on your plate and slowly spreads it across your face. 

Your husband stands up so quickly that his chair knocks over. He says, “I’ll go check the pies.”