Limousine.”
“Jackie Limousine?”
“Who’s that? I really don’t want to play a game that’s going to make us all feel stupid,” said his mother.
“Jackie Limousine sounds like a stripper,” said Denise.
“Dad, it has to be a name of somebody famous, a celebrity,” Ginny said.
His mother raised her hand. “Oh, oh, oh. Barbra Streisand!”
“Excellent, Mom. Barbra Streisand. So I look at the paper and start saying, Funny Girl, big nose. Maybe I sing. I say, she’s married to James Brolin.”
“Who’s that?” Douglas asked.
“It doesn’t matter,” said Ginny. “If you don’t get the clue, just wait for the next one.”
“I thought Diane Lane was married to James Brolin.”
“That’s Josh Brolin,” his mother piped in, to everyone’s surprise.
“Do I need to serve Ritalin on the rocks to you people?”
The twins nodded with devilish grins, and Ginny sighed.
“Come on, kids,” Douglas said. “We’re playing a word game! This will be good for us! We’re all going to finally learn to speaka da inglish !”
Ginny shot him what he had long ago coined her John Rambo, First Blood stare. It was a look that said, I am now your enemy.
“Now, Priya and I need to go back into the kitchen and check on some things, so why don’t you all go ahead and enjoy the game.”
“Okay,” said Douglas. When Ginny was out of earshot, “I propose we do away with the little strips of paper. Just go up there and pluck one from your head.”
“I have one!” his mother cried, shuffling in front of the couch and standing perfectly still.
“Mom? We’re ready.”
She remained still and tightened her lips, but Douglas saw her eyes dart wildly toward the wall, toward a large maroon poster that said LUCINDA WILLIAMS, LIVE AT MADISON SQUARE GARDEN.
“Mom, it’s not Lucinda Williams…”
She clapped. “Yes!”
“We don’t know who Lucinda Williams is,” Brian huffed.
“Well, in that case, it wouldn’t have mattered. Just follow Grandma’s eyes.”
The twins moved to Ginny’s laptop, their fingers attacking the keyboard to see if they could download World of Warcraft.
“Boys, come on, we’re all playing together.”
“But this is stupid,” Brian whined.
“That may very well be, but we’re still all playing.”
“I’ve got one,” said Brandon, climbing up onto the sofa. He narrowed his eyes. “I am going to kill you.”
Everyone was silent.
“Champ,” said Douglas, “this might be a little morbid.”
“I am going to kill you in your sleep ,” he continued.
“Stroke!” Eleanor shouted. “Oh, wait. No. Heart attack?”
Brandon twisted his face ghoulishly, wagging his tongue. “I am going to kill all of you!”
“Al-Qaeda,” said Denise.
“Anthrax!” yelped Eleanor, sliding so far to the edge of her chair, it nearly toppled over.
“I’m going to kill you in your dreams.”
“Sleeping-pill overdose.”
Brandon shook his head with exasperation. “In your school, down by the pipes…”
“Asbestos!” Eleanor yelped.
Douglas could see that Laura was chewing on her tablecloth. “Let’s take a time-out, champ.”
“Trench-coat mafia,” declared Denise.
“Lead-paint poisoning?” his mother asked.
Brandon rumbled out a long, annoyed breath. He pulled one sleeve over his hand and sliced at the air. “I’m your nightmare, on Elm Street,” he said, at which point Brian leaped up from the floor.
“Freddy Krueger! Why didn’t you say Nightmare on Elm Street to begin with?”
“I’m confused,” said Eleanor.
“It’s a movie,” Douglas explained.
“Well, what is that rated?” his mother demanded. “Is that a horror movie? Why are the children watching horror movies?”
Laura’s eyes were wide. “Daddy, what’s anthrax?” Douglas looked at his wife, stumped.
“A city in Nova Scotia,” said Gavin.
GAVIN
Gavin’s father, Alrek Olson, came to the United States at seventeen and worked as a fishmonger. From a cart along Boston Harbor
“Jackie Limousine?”
“Who’s that? I really don’t want to play a game that’s going to make us all feel stupid,” said his mother.
“Jackie Limousine sounds like a stripper,” said Denise.
“Dad, it has to be a name of somebody famous, a celebrity,” Ginny said.
His mother raised her hand. “Oh, oh, oh. Barbra Streisand!”
“Excellent, Mom. Barbra Streisand. So I look at the paper and start saying, Funny Girl, big nose. Maybe I sing. I say, she’s married to James Brolin.”
“Who’s that?” Douglas asked.
“It doesn’t matter,” said Ginny. “If you don’t get the clue, just wait for the next one.”
“I thought Diane Lane was married to James Brolin.”
“That’s Josh Brolin,” his mother piped in, to everyone’s surprise.
“Do I need to serve Ritalin on the rocks to you people?”
The twins nodded with devilish grins, and Ginny sighed.
“Come on, kids,” Douglas said. “We’re playing a word game! This will be good for us! We’re all going to finally learn to speaka da inglish !”
Ginny shot him what he had long ago coined her John Rambo, First Blood stare. It was a look that said, I am now your enemy.
“Now, Priya and I need to go back into the kitchen and check on some things, so why don’t you all go ahead and enjoy the game.”
“Okay,” said Douglas. When Ginny was out of earshot, “I propose we do away with the little strips of paper. Just go up there and pluck one from your head.”
“I have one!” his mother cried, shuffling in front of the couch and standing perfectly still.
“Mom? We’re ready.”
She remained still and tightened her lips, but Douglas saw her eyes dart wildly toward the wall, toward a large maroon poster that said LUCINDA WILLIAMS, LIVE AT MADISON SQUARE GARDEN.
“Mom, it’s not Lucinda Williams…”
She clapped. “Yes!”
“We don’t know who Lucinda Williams is,” Brian huffed.
“Well, in that case, it wouldn’t have mattered. Just follow Grandma’s eyes.”
The twins moved to Ginny’s laptop, their fingers attacking the keyboard to see if they could download World of Warcraft.
“Boys, come on, we’re all playing together.”
“But this is stupid,” Brian whined.
“That may very well be, but we’re still all playing.”
“I’ve got one,” said Brandon, climbing up onto the sofa. He narrowed his eyes. “I am going to kill you.”
Everyone was silent.
“Champ,” said Douglas, “this might be a little morbid.”
“I am going to kill you in your sleep ,” he continued.
“Stroke!” Eleanor shouted. “Oh, wait. No. Heart attack?”
Brandon twisted his face ghoulishly, wagging his tongue. “I am going to kill all of you!”
“Al-Qaeda,” said Denise.
“Anthrax!” yelped Eleanor, sliding so far to the edge of her chair, it nearly toppled over.
“I’m going to kill you in your dreams.”
“Sleeping-pill overdose.”
Brandon shook his head with exasperation. “In your school, down by the pipes…”
“Asbestos!” Eleanor yelped.
Douglas could see that Laura was chewing on her tablecloth. “Let’s take a time-out, champ.”
“Trench-coat mafia,” declared Denise.
“Lead-paint poisoning?” his mother asked.
Brandon rumbled out a long, annoyed breath. He pulled one sleeve over his hand and sliced at the air. “I’m your nightmare, on Elm Street,” he said, at which point Brian leaped up from the floor.
“Freddy Krueger! Why didn’t you say Nightmare on Elm Street to begin with?”
“I’m confused,” said Eleanor.
“It’s a movie,” Douglas explained.
“Well, what is that rated?” his mother demanded. “Is that a horror movie? Why are the children watching horror movies?”
Laura’s eyes were wide. “Daddy, what’s anthrax?” Douglas looked at his wife, stumped.
“A city in Nova Scotia,” said Gavin.
GAVIN
Gavin’s father, Alrek Olson, came to the United States at seventeen and worked as a fishmonger. From a cart along Boston Harbor
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