Tis The Season

“What’s the matter? Did you taste something sour?” Marty looked at his girlfriend, Alice, when he heard the spoon drop into her cereal bowl.

“No, I didn’t taste anything sour,” Alice mimicked. “I just got a text from your sister, Norma.” She held the phone to Marty’s face. “She is reminding me about dinner this evening. I mean, how can I forget although I wish I could. She’s been sending me messages for over a month now, and this time she texts me the recipe for mashed potatoes. I mean, really? Last year she told me to make sure I follow the directions on the back of the crispy fried onion container. Christmas eve has always been at your parents’ house since I’ve known you. Why does she always take control over everything? Your poor mother doesn’t have a voice in her own home and it’s her favorite holiday. Oh, and don’t get me started about your father. He blurts out commands like he’s still a Seargent in the Army and you're all in his platoon and not his children. Does your family know the meaning of peace and goodwill, especially during this time of the season?”

Marty snickered and took her bowl to the sink. “It's only for a few hours,” he assured her. He didn’t blame her for the way she was feeling. After all, his family was a uniquely dysfunctional bunch. “Just make sure to bring two bottles of wine like you always do so you can drown them out,” he laughed.

“A few hours?” Alice squawked. She placed five pounds of potatoes in two pots of water and carried them to the stove. “I feel like a prisoner in your parents’ home, waiting to be paroled. Your poor nieces and nephews are cranky, and their eyes are half shut when they finally get to open presents once the clock strikes midnight.”

“Come on, now.” Marty reached for Alice’s waist. “They aren’t that bad.”

“Aren’t that bad?” Alices’ eyes widened. “What about your sister Julie. Her idea of us dressing up like we’re going to attend the presidential inaugural ball is ridiculous. We celebrate in a wood paneled family room. By the time everyone’s finished stuffing their faces, your sisters complain about how tight their dresses feel and the guys remove their ties and pop open cans of beer.”   

Marty shook his head, then rummaged through the liquor cabinet. He reached for two bottles of red wine and a pint of Tito’s.

“Oh, no,” Alice grabbed the tequila bottle from his hand. “If you think your gonna bring this, you’d better think twice. Remember what happened last year? The men in your family were at each other’s throats after taking two shots.” She placed the bottle back into the cabinet, then peeked into the refrigerator to make sure she had enough butter and milk to make Norma’s version of mashed potatoes. She pulled out a stepstool that leaned against the side of the stove and reached for a large bowl in the cupboard.

“One more thing,” she frowned. “If we have to sit at the kiddy table again, like we did last year, I’m gonna lose my mind. Those kids are like loaded guns when they talk and eat at the same time. I had to toss my beige Casimir blouse in the trash because I couldn’t get the stain out when bits of cranberries shot out from little Billy’s mouth.” 

“I already spoke to my mom about the seating arrangements this year,” Marty raised a brow.

“Your mom?” Alice’s eyes narrowed. “You spoke to the wrong person. I bet you five bucks we end up at the kid’s table.”

“Are you done complaining?” he asked Alice.

 “Yeah, I think so,” she nodded. “Each year the plot seems to thicken at the Sullivan family Christmas sequels. I wonder what’s gonna happen tonight.”

***

 Alice reached for two large bags filled with gifts from the backseat and sighed when Marty drove off to find parking. As she entered the house, she heard voices coming from the kitchen and cringed.

“There you are,” Norma said as she forced the bowl from Alice’s hands. “Did you use unsalted butter?” she looked at Alice sharply. “And real milk, not that nonfat crap you and my brother drink.”

Alice looked at Norma and wanted to suggest Marty’s overweight sister switch to fat free milk, but she kept her thoughts to herself and ignored Norma’s rude comment.

“It’s nice to see you,” she said to Norma, which was a big fat lie (no pun intended). “Do you need my help with anything?”

“You’ve done enough,” Norma said, transferring the mashed potatoes into a hideous looking Christmas bowl.

Alice headed to the family room. It was as if she was invisible, as the guys stood around the king of the household while Mr. Sullivan sat on an old lumpy armchair and talked about the same old stories about his heroism during the war.

She stared at the various stuffed animal heads and started to become hypnotized by the blinking-colored lights wrapped around their antlers. A big fake tree was placed caddy-corner to the right where she unloaded the gifts. She took a whiff of the ham that sat in the middle of a long table and looked at the side dishes that surrounded it. She circled the dinner table and scanned each place card. She grimaced when she didn’t see her and Marty’s name.

Once Marty approached her, Alice held out her hand. “You owe me five bucks,” she said, pointing at the kid’s table.

“I’m gonna talk to my sister,” Marty said in a huff. “I’m tired of this. This year you’re wearing a beautiful silk dress and I’m not gonna take a chance of it getting ruined,” he said.

Alice chuckled. “I wore red, just in case.”

Marty stood stone-faced. He didn’t think Alice’s comment was funny, as he looked around the room. He listened to the comradery taking place around him. His family was in their own world.

“How about, we get outta here,” he said. “Before the real drama begins. I’m almost certain you’ve already gotten a taste of it, haven’t you?”

“Thanks babe, but I’ll be all right. You gave me a chance to vent earlier so my patience won’t wear thin. I’ll be able to handle it. Besides, tomorrow morning, it’s off to my family's house. So be ready for round two.”

Alice kissed Marty and smiled.