on the small of her back. The rest of the night I couldn’t help thinking of this tender gesture.
6
Christmas Eve we drove together to Grandma’s for the Karrow family Christmas. Mom’s older brother, Lynn, and younger sister, Patty, were already there when we arrived, along with their children and in some cases their children’s children. Now committed to join the madness, Marie was obliged to come. Mr. Moore was not and did not. He not only failed to be a Fundamentalist, he went so far as to be Catholic. While Grandma had accepted him, she suggested warming the family to him slowly. Grandma had always been faulted for her open-mindedness. She had liked Bill Clinton, thank you very much, and she did not think the New Ageism so vile. Really, meditation sounded very relaxing.
At dinner I was placed next to Aunt Patty, who spent the entire hour recounting to me her caloric intake for the previous day, meal by meal. She had been on a diet since the mid-nineties. She ate no more than 1,200 calories a day on weekdays, then ate whatever she wanted from five o’clock Friday to noon Sunday. On the Aunt Patty Diet, all holidays counted as Saturdays. A decade of this self-prescribed regimen had succeeded in making her the largest of the Karrow women.
“I’m happily satisfied,” she said at the end of dinner, “but not bloated.” She lifted her shirt to show me the elastic waistline of what appeared to be her oldest daughter’s recently retired maternity jeans.
This conversation was topped only by Uncle Lynn’s misconception that I was dating a college professor, as opposed to working as one.
“How’s the professor doing?” he asked.
Assuming he meant me, I replied, “Getting by.”
“You guys have any serious plans?”
“Plans?” I asked, bewildered. “With who?”
“This professor guy.”
“I’m not seeing anyone, Uncle Lynn,” I explained, thinking briefly and not without chagrin of Adam. “I’m just teaching at the university.”
“Pamela!” he called.
“Lynn!” she said back. She was perched on the floor, playing with one of the babies. (It had not taken her long to find the nearest baby to hold.)
“I thought you said Amy was dating a college prof?”
Thankfully, she didn’t mention my ex-boyfriend. “No, she is a professor, Lynn.”
He crossed his arms and leaned back to consider me in this new light. “College professor, really? That’s impressive.”
“I’m adjunct slave labor, actually.” I darted back to accommodate the two-year-old that had bounded into my lap.
“They take good care of you then? Dental? Vacations? The works?”
I smiled meagerly. “It pays the rent.”
“Get down, Lynn,” Uncle Lynn commanded, picking up his namesake from my lap.
He had promised to open a trust fund for the first grandchild to bear his name. My cousin, Lauren, never cared for the name Lynn, but she had always been opportunistic. She was planning on a big family; she had names to spare.
“That’s Lynn?” I asked.
“I know. Seems like she was just born yesterday.” He nodded at Lauren. “I wouldn’t be surprised if they started working on numero quatro soon.”
“They’re not wasting any time.”
“It hits you. You’ll see. That biological clock is not some story. Won’t be long before Brian and Marie start to make announcements.”
I studied my brother. He was sporting a Reese’s peanut butter cup shirt and snapping pictures of his own knee.
As the recipient of student loans that more than covered his rent three times over, Brian was the most extravagant gift giver of the night. He bought each of the little girls a new collector Barbie, bought me a new DVD player, and bought Mom her first cell phone.
She turned it in her hands, suspicious of its size. “It’s so tiny!”
“I’ve started you on the same plan as Amy and I,” Brian explained. “Now you can call us for free.”
“For free?”
“Anytime, anywhere, and it won’t cost you a cent.”
When he
6
Christmas Eve we drove together to Grandma’s for the Karrow family Christmas. Mom’s older brother, Lynn, and younger sister, Patty, were already there when we arrived, along with their children and in some cases their children’s children. Now committed to join the madness, Marie was obliged to come. Mr. Moore was not and did not. He not only failed to be a Fundamentalist, he went so far as to be Catholic. While Grandma had accepted him, she suggested warming the family to him slowly. Grandma had always been faulted for her open-mindedness. She had liked Bill Clinton, thank you very much, and she did not think the New Ageism so vile. Really, meditation sounded very relaxing.
At dinner I was placed next to Aunt Patty, who spent the entire hour recounting to me her caloric intake for the previous day, meal by meal. She had been on a diet since the mid-nineties. She ate no more than 1,200 calories a day on weekdays, then ate whatever she wanted from five o’clock Friday to noon Sunday. On the Aunt Patty Diet, all holidays counted as Saturdays. A decade of this self-prescribed regimen had succeeded in making her the largest of the Karrow women.
“I’m happily satisfied,” she said at the end of dinner, “but not bloated.” She lifted her shirt to show me the elastic waistline of what appeared to be her oldest daughter’s recently retired maternity jeans.
This conversation was topped only by Uncle Lynn’s misconception that I was dating a college professor, as opposed to working as one.
“How’s the professor doing?” he asked.
Assuming he meant me, I replied, “Getting by.”
“You guys have any serious plans?”
“Plans?” I asked, bewildered. “With who?”
“This professor guy.”
“I’m not seeing anyone, Uncle Lynn,” I explained, thinking briefly and not without chagrin of Adam. “I’m just teaching at the university.”
“Pamela!” he called.
“Lynn!” she said back. She was perched on the floor, playing with one of the babies. (It had not taken her long to find the nearest baby to hold.)
“I thought you said Amy was dating a college prof?”
Thankfully, she didn’t mention my ex-boyfriend. “No, she is a professor, Lynn.”
He crossed his arms and leaned back to consider me in this new light. “College professor, really? That’s impressive.”
“I’m adjunct slave labor, actually.” I darted back to accommodate the two-year-old that had bounded into my lap.
“They take good care of you then? Dental? Vacations? The works?”
I smiled meagerly. “It pays the rent.”
“Get down, Lynn,” Uncle Lynn commanded, picking up his namesake from my lap.
He had promised to open a trust fund for the first grandchild to bear his name. My cousin, Lauren, never cared for the name Lynn, but she had always been opportunistic. She was planning on a big family; she had names to spare.
“That’s Lynn?” I asked.
“I know. Seems like she was just born yesterday.” He nodded at Lauren. “I wouldn’t be surprised if they started working on numero quatro soon.”
“They’re not wasting any time.”
“It hits you. You’ll see. That biological clock is not some story. Won’t be long before Brian and Marie start to make announcements.”
I studied my brother. He was sporting a Reese’s peanut butter cup shirt and snapping pictures of his own knee.
As the recipient of student loans that more than covered his rent three times over, Brian was the most extravagant gift giver of the night. He bought each of the little girls a new collector Barbie, bought me a new DVD player, and bought Mom her first cell phone.
She turned it in her hands, suspicious of its size. “It’s so tiny!”
“I’ve started you on the same plan as Amy and I,” Brian explained. “Now you can call us for free.”
“For free?”
“Anytime, anywhere, and it won’t cost you a cent.”
When he
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