Home for Thanksgiving dinner. Maybe I go on too long. Maybe everyone else asks me too many questions.
I notice her napkin beside her plate.
Hear her out in the garage. “I can’t take it anymore!”
My mother runs off, returns. “Your sister’s walking home in the rain! I hope you’re proud of yourself!”
My father steps in. “He didn’t do anything!”
“You! Always defending him!”
“What! I wasn’t just sitting here?”
The table quiet. Coughing. We start to eat again.
Now my brother, softly: “Well. That was interesting…”
“Who wants more?” my mother interrupts. “I’ve got more of everything.”
I notice her napkin beside her plate.
Hear her out in the garage. “I can’t take it anymore!”
My mother runs off, returns. “Your sister’s walking home in the rain! I hope you’re proud of yourself!”
My father steps in. “He didn’t do anything!”
“You! Always defending him!”
“What! I wasn’t just sitting here?”
The table quiet. Coughing. We start to eat again.
Now my brother, softly: “Well. That was interesting…”
“Who wants more?” my mother interrupts. “I’ve got more of everything.”
