glasses now, and I notice he has the same eyes as Scott, recognize them by the black shadows.
Scott goes to get another beer, his chair rattling in the silence.
His dad starts carving the turkey, and I smile at him as he places the first piece on my plate, but he doesn't really see me.
Scott comes back, and slams his beer onto the table too hard, sending foam frothing from it. I hand him my napkin to wipe it off, but he ignores me, the beer now seeping into the tablecloth.
I'm still waiting for them to go around the table and talk about what they're thankful for, rehearsing what I'll say and hoping I won't come across as too strange, but they all just start eating.
I cut a small piece of the meat and bring it to my lips, even though I've never been less hungry in my life. The silence in the room is so absolute, I can hear a clock ticking in another room.
Scott leans back and takes a long swallow of beer, again glaring at Mike. "Well, maybe next year, when I'm gone, Marjorie will come too."
His dad gasps and drops his fork with a clank. "Don't talk like that, Scott."
He took the words right from my lips. My heart is thundering, and my cheek is twitching. Tina lays her hand on mine, but I barely feel it. What's he saying? Gone?
"Why not, Dad?" Scott snarls. "It's been Mike's number one goal for the last three months."
"You're such a drama queen, Scott," Mike says, his eyes blacker than tar. "There's nothing to worry about. Besides, didn't we spend like the whole of last Sunday discussing this thing as a family?"
"You made your choices," Andrew says, glaring at Scott now too. "You're the only one in control of your life."
Scott slams his beer on the table, thick foam frothing over the rim again. "Spare me your new age bullshit, Andrew."
"Nothing new age about it, just hard facts," Andrew counters.
"Stop this, right now!" his dad yells, his voice high and brittle. "Can't we just have a normal family dinner once. Just once."
"Sure, why not?" Scott says and starts eating. "It could be the last one, after all."
"You're only bringing all this up 'cause you're too much of a baby to face the shit you cooked up on your own. But none of us can help with that," Mike snarls. "What will your girlfriend think?"
She's thinking she should get up and leave, that she should never have come here. Gone?
I try to grab Scott's hand under the table but he snatches it away, pointing at Mike. "I just want them all to know what's going on, so there's no surprises later."
Tina's cutting up her turkey into little pieces, and Andrew is rubbing his head, his eyes darting from Scott to Mike to his dad and back. Scott's dad is staring out the window, his face lax, like the heat rising over the table is not hot enough to burn my cheek.
"Maybe if you stopped doing all that coke, I'd feel safer. It's seriously starting to mess up your brain. Not that you weren't always a psycho," Scott says and then Mike's on his feet lunging across the table, knocking over the cranberry sauce. Scott's chair crashes to the ground as he stands up, but Andrew's already holding Mike back, dragging him from the room.
"This is bullshit!" I hear him yell in the hall. "You're all on his side. Just like always. I'm leaving."
The front door slams, and Andrew's back, glaring at Scott. Their dad is staring at the dark red stain spreading across the tablecloth.
Tina wraps her fingers around my arm and pulls me to my feet. "Let's start clearing up."
I take my and Scott's barely touched plate, and follow her into the kitchen.
"You just had to start this shit today," I hear Andrew say, his voice razor sharp.
"What? He started it," Scott protests. "And it's all true."
"You're both exactly the same," their dad says. "And you do this every time."
"We're not the same," Scott says, but his voice is farther away now, and I can see Andrew leading him into the hall. A moment later the front door shuts behind them.
"It'll be fine. Something like this
Scott goes to get another beer, his chair rattling in the silence.
His dad starts carving the turkey, and I smile at him as he places the first piece on my plate, but he doesn't really see me.
Scott comes back, and slams his beer onto the table too hard, sending foam frothing from it. I hand him my napkin to wipe it off, but he ignores me, the beer now seeping into the tablecloth.
I'm still waiting for them to go around the table and talk about what they're thankful for, rehearsing what I'll say and hoping I won't come across as too strange, but they all just start eating.
I cut a small piece of the meat and bring it to my lips, even though I've never been less hungry in my life. The silence in the room is so absolute, I can hear a clock ticking in another room.
Scott leans back and takes a long swallow of beer, again glaring at Mike. "Well, maybe next year, when I'm gone, Marjorie will come too."
His dad gasps and drops his fork with a clank. "Don't talk like that, Scott."
He took the words right from my lips. My heart is thundering, and my cheek is twitching. Tina lays her hand on mine, but I barely feel it. What's he saying? Gone?
"Why not, Dad?" Scott snarls. "It's been Mike's number one goal for the last three months."
"You're such a drama queen, Scott," Mike says, his eyes blacker than tar. "There's nothing to worry about. Besides, didn't we spend like the whole of last Sunday discussing this thing as a family?"
"You made your choices," Andrew says, glaring at Scott now too. "You're the only one in control of your life."
Scott slams his beer on the table, thick foam frothing over the rim again. "Spare me your new age bullshit, Andrew."
"Nothing new age about it, just hard facts," Andrew counters.
"Stop this, right now!" his dad yells, his voice high and brittle. "Can't we just have a normal family dinner once. Just once."
"Sure, why not?" Scott says and starts eating. "It could be the last one, after all."
"You're only bringing all this up 'cause you're too much of a baby to face the shit you cooked up on your own. But none of us can help with that," Mike snarls. "What will your girlfriend think?"
She's thinking she should get up and leave, that she should never have come here. Gone?
I try to grab Scott's hand under the table but he snatches it away, pointing at Mike. "I just want them all to know what's going on, so there's no surprises later."
Tina's cutting up her turkey into little pieces, and Andrew is rubbing his head, his eyes darting from Scott to Mike to his dad and back. Scott's dad is staring out the window, his face lax, like the heat rising over the table is not hot enough to burn my cheek.
"Maybe if you stopped doing all that coke, I'd feel safer. It's seriously starting to mess up your brain. Not that you weren't always a psycho," Scott says and then Mike's on his feet lunging across the table, knocking over the cranberry sauce. Scott's chair crashes to the ground as he stands up, but Andrew's already holding Mike back, dragging him from the room.
"This is bullshit!" I hear him yell in the hall. "You're all on his side. Just like always. I'm leaving."
The front door slams, and Andrew's back, glaring at Scott. Their dad is staring at the dark red stain spreading across the tablecloth.
Tina wraps her fingers around my arm and pulls me to my feet. "Let's start clearing up."
I take my and Scott's barely touched plate, and follow her into the kitchen.
"You just had to start this shit today," I hear Andrew say, his voice razor sharp.
"What? He started it," Scott protests. "And it's all true."
"You're both exactly the same," their dad says. "And you do this every time."
"We're not the same," Scott says, but his voice is farther away now, and I can see Andrew leading him into the hall. A moment later the front door shuts behind them.
"It'll be fine. Something like this
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