I hesitated only for a moment before pressing the doorbell. It had been quite a while since I had come to this house and partaken of the festivities. Thanksgiving had never been my favorite time of year, in fact, it only caused me great distress and brought a cloud of foreboding that would last right through the otherwise joyful Christmas season.
I decided to make the best of this trip by wearing my most flattering outfit. An empire style black dress to hide my pooch of a belly, a string of freshwater pearls that accentuated the high rounded neckline. I chose long sleeves to hide the tell- tale scars of darker days and attractive flat shoes out of habit in order to make a quick get away. I swept my just below shoulder length hair into a loose bun and allowed tendrils to escape. I always thought the 'Gibson Girl' was most feminine and it couldn’t hurt to be a bit more ladylike.
‘Please, let this visit be over soon,’ I thought just as the door opened.
Aggie, our official welcome wagon was wagging her bobbed tail. She had her official holiday collar on that was studded with green, red and yellow stones which served to accent her bat- like ears. Aggie had been in the family since my mother took on the job of rescuing pets at the local animal shelter. An abandoned Rat Terrier had died soon after delivering 6 pups so my mother became a surrogate, feeding them at all hours. Aggie was her reward.
"Come on in Cleo, get out of the cold," my cousin said, reaching for my arm as though to pull me into another world. Mandy was dressed in her typically wild way, nothing matching, every texture she could find to drape from her petite five foot four body. Silk, satin, brocade, wool, whatever materials that caught Mandy’s eye would be purchased and put together to make any fashion designer cringe. Mandy hugged me and lightly kissed my cheek. Aggie sat on her hind end, paws scratching at the air hopeful of some attention from me. I bent down and played with her ears then kissed her on the nose. With greetings out of the way, I moved into the living room where my mother sat engaged in serious conversation with her sister Rose. Father was no doubt in the kitchen overseeing the preparation of the meal.
The house smelled of a perfect Thanksgiving feast. Golden brown roast turkey, sweet smoked ham mingled with cinnamon and baked apples. I used to look forward to the culinary delights at my parents home. The food was always so beautifully prepared and presented. My parents had come from large families themselves so it was a given that each year the eldest in the family would put on a show of cooking skills. Thanksgiving was my parents' specialty but with my mother's ailment, the once outrageous amounts of dishes had declined to a moderate fair.
I braced myself for the inevitable explosion of the evening. Just how long would it be this time before someone’s feelings would be hurt and a frustrated relative storm off in tears. If only the family were as comforting as the food or as pleasant as the table setting. It seems to me everyone comes here just to see the freak show, then again I suppose that’s what family is all about. Sticking together no matter what, taking all the profanity and condemnations laced with the occasional good word of advice and perfunctory pat on the head.
I glanced around the room and noticed the only change was that it seemed more sterile. The books had been replaced with a few knickknack’s and the walls had been painted with an antique oil based paint, most likely for easier cleaning. "Oh Cleo, you’re here!" my mother exclaimed in her cracking voice. "Did you wipe your shoes? Are you sure they are clean?" she said as she laid down the photos that she had been sharing with Aunt Rose. I walked over to her and waited for a sign that she actually wanted to kiss or hug. These days physical contact became more and more difficult for her. Still seated on the gold and burgundy chenille sofa, mother looked down at my shoes scrutinizing their cleanliness.
"I wiped them Mom,"I said just a bit annoyed that she still couldn’t trust me to follow a simple rule.
"I just wanted to make sure. You know how filthy the streets are. Especially now. It’s good to see you dear, you look well," she said as she stood up and came toward me to give me an airy kiss on the cheek. Mother had stopped hugging a couple of years ago and I imagined that soon the kissing would follow if she didn’t get help soon.
"Have you been in to see your father? He has been asking after you every day. How are your lessons?" she asked in a concerned tone.
"Fine Mom, fine. I just got here so, no, I haven’t gone in to see Dad yet. The food sure smells good. What are we having tonight? And when is everyone else arriving?" I asked. Mom started rattling off the menu and I thought about the time when my mother was allowed to cook and it went badly.
I was sitting at the breakfast bar doing my homework while watching my mother prepare dinner. I hadn’t taken much notice before but on this particular evening, I was fascinated by her actions. She took the lettuce out of a zip lock bag that I remembered her washing the night before and put them into a bowl in order to wash them again. Each leaf was being rinsed under a steady stream of water. Then she carefully placed them into a salad spinner which she had washed with bleach and rinsed for about 5 minutes. Every vegetable was thoroughly washed even though they had been washed the night before.
When she took the lasagna out of the oven and was placing it on the cooling rack, she mistakenly touched the top with the edge of her oven mitt. As she pulled it away the cheese stuck to the mitt and threaded, tomato sauce dripped onto the counter. All of a sudden my mother screamed as though she had burned herself. I was startled and then shocked when I watched her shove the casserole pan onto the floor. Lasagna splattered all over the cupboard and was spread out on the linoleum floor. I asked her what happened, my heart beating a mile a minute, worried that she may have hurt herself when she turned all red and sputtered, "It’s filthy!!! We can’t eat it." She was a total wreck and I was trying to calm her down, keeping my voice soft. "Shut up, just shut up! The lasagna is ruined, contaminated!" My mother went to the pantry and took out the mop. I was picking up the glass with a paper towel and getting as much of the lasagna as I could up when she screamed at me to go take a bath. I nearly shouted back that it was justlasagna,and couldn't believe how crazy she had acted.
This was the beginning of my mothers’ ailment. Over the years it has increased and now she is forbidden to be in the kitchen especially during the holidays. My father and I spent many evenings scrounging for left-overs or putting together frozen items after my mother trashed an otherwise perfect meal due to the possibility of it being riddled with germs.
Mother and I walked down the hall with Aunt Rose and Aggie close behind. As we approached the doorway of the kitchen, mother stopped, raised her hand like a traffic control cop and said "You go on in dear. I can’t bear to look. Don’t even want to think about it." Aunt Rose slipped past me and pushed open the swinging door that had been installed to keep Aggie out but seemed to keep mother out just as effectively.
"Aggie! Out!" she shouted sternly. Aggie's tail stopped wagging and her satellite dish ears stiffened. The kitchen was off limits to poor Aggie but now and then she would forget. "And make sure you wash your hands", mother pleaded as she wrung her own. I imagined microbes crawling all over her, rolled my eyes and followed my Aunt.
The kitchen was bright and warm. I was glad that my father hadn’t changed the cheerful color scheme. Even though there had been so many troubles in this room, the colors soothed me and some of my best papers had been written here while sitting in the cushioned breakfast corner.
"Hey Dad, whatcha cookin? It sure smells good." My father looked up and I could see the hint of a smile. He was busy with decorating a platter of hors d’oeuvres.
"When did you get here? Why didn’t anyone tell me?" he asked. I went over and gave him a hug. Then he said, " Well why don’t you make yourself useful? Get an apron on. There should be one in that drawer down there...no, not that one, the one on the right."
I pulled open the drawer and after a good look chose the pink one with the frills on the bodice. I wanted to appear extra feminine and hoped Dad wouldn’t give me anything messy to do. I would hate to have to roll my sleeves up, lest my family see my arms. Ready, I waited for my fathers’ instruction. Aunt Rose was busy stacking up the dishes and collecting the silverware that would be used.
We would have a small gathering this year because my parents’ families had decided months ago to stay out of mothers way at the holiday so that she wouldn’t have an attack. Aunt Ann, my mother's baby sisterand her family moved to Kuwait for her husband's job and Uncle George and his family moved to Canada to establish a business in tourism. Many of my cousins were attending universities too far away to make the trip. Aunt Cynthia and Uncle Harris were going through a nasty divorce that involved the legal custody of their dog farm. Thoughts of the families whereabouts were interrupted when Mandy bounced into thekitchen squeaking and whee-ing, her ten or so pigtails bopping. We all looked at her unsurprised but curious.
"It’s snowing! Snowing..It is snowing!" she squealed. "No way" I exclaimed and rushed over to the breakfast nook window. It looked clear and gray as before.
"It’s not snowing Mandy,"I said.
"Yes it is," she exclaimed and bounced around in a stationary circle. I looked out of the window again, squinted and concentrated on a relatively clear area void of trees and sure enough there were the teeniest of teeny snowflakes. "Wow!" I shouted. This had to be the most unusual snowfall ever recorded in our area of New Mexico.
Father gave me and Mandy precise instructions. Feeling like we were in the army I began to hum, we’re in the army now, but stopped before making anyone mad. Mandy and I put finishing touches to the roasted vegetables, sprinkling them with chopped soft flat leaf parsley and I folded cloth napkins using a technique that my grandmother had taught me when I was about eleven while Mandy pranced around pretending she was a matador. The bright orange fabric was too much for her to resist, I guessed. It was nearly six thirtyand a few more family members arrived. By seven the table was set and the food was placed in warming dishes. Everything was perfect. At least, externally wise.
I was quite hungry by now and had forced myself not to go crazy with nibbling. I had only twenty pounds to go to reach my target weight and wanted my parents approval so badly it was nearly killing me. I had eaten a bowl of oatmeal with nonfat milk in the morning and refrained from eating even the raw veggies so I knew I would have to take the meal very slowly if I were to succeed. My parents were easily offended if their food was refused but the plan was to put a tablespoon worth of every dish on my plate and eat only one buttermilk yeast roll.
Our dining room held 2 elegant dining tables to accommodate the large crowds that used to visit but tonight we would be a modest gathering of 12. Mandy and I would sit opposite her mother Rose and Uncle Joe. Sybil would sit between the twins Tyler and Tyson opposite their parents Aunt Mary and Uncle Richard and Uncle Larry my fathers youngest and still single brother would sit near mother.
The room was decorated in all the fall colors and an attractive cornucopia centerpiece that my Aunt Mary had made with long tapered candles was the finishing touch. We gathered and took our seats. Father not being very religious offered Uncle Larry the job of saying grace. I melted whenever Uncle Larry spoke and now that he had been in Seminary the last two years, his prayers have become more sincere and meaningful. I was drawn into his prayer, calmed by his voice and didn’t realize it was over till Mandyribbed me with her elbow. I looked up as the serving of the feast and the oohing and ahhing had begun. I was careful not to overload my plate knowing there would be a price to pay later for the indulgence. None of my cousins seemed to have problems with their weight no matter how inactive or overindulgent they were. Me on the other hand, had to watch every single morsel, being careful not to eat anything with milk unless I had my lactose tablets with me and if I didn’t do some sort of athletics the scale would jump five pounds causing me unbelievable stress until it went down again.
Mandy and I discussed life at school while the twins did their best to finish off the turkey and annoying Sybil with the twin-twixing. Tyson gets Sybil's attention, Tyler jabs at a food on her plate, then Tyler distracts Syb and Tyson puts a food on her plate causing her to get angry enough to want to stab each of them with her fork. Father was talking about the construction business with Uncle Joe and Aunt Rose chattered with Aunt Mary, both of them on their fourth glass of wine. Whenever the two of them got together they behaved more like school children than grown mothers of teens but they were usually pretty funny and someone would intervene before they slid down any banisters.
Mother was wiping the serving spoons handles and any surrounding eating utensils as she spoke with her brother. Now and then I heard, "God.. save. fear" and Uncle Richard would interject with something about "old world.. communist.. devil." I almost wished that I was at that end of the table so that I could hear them better and wondered whether mother would really listen to Uncle Larry or not.
The volume in the room increased and my father kept barking profanity at his brother and
making rude comments to poor Aunt Rose and his sister about their drinking. ‘Don’t you two know when to stop?,’he shouted in response to something they had said. Then of course my mother knocked off one of the plates after the thought of something dirty touching it had been too much for her. My cousins and I hopped up to help clear the table in order to get out of the line of the adults fire but Uncle Richard and father simultaneously told us to sit down and I saw Uncle Larry look at his lap. I thought surely he could say something that would calm this family of ours but he stayed quiet. Just as I expected, my father looked over at me, gave me a dirty look and started in on my lack of manners.
I had forgotten one of his most important rules. Never get up from the table until excused. He would go on for ten minutes about the value of having good etiquette and then start in on how I had chosen the wrong school and why did I have to live so far away when there was a perfectly good college just twenty minutes from home. Each time he would accuse me of laziness or being too good for the family I felt like I should just throw in the towel and agree with him. But I couldn’t for fear of more condemnation. When everyone had run out of steam, throwing accusations at each other for their inabilities to raise proper families, getting the right jobs or paying up on past debts, my cousins and I were allowed to get up and start cleaning the table.
Mother kept reminding me and my cousins to wash our hands and not mix any of the foods. Instead ofhelping ,she just got in the way and we had to dance around her with the emptied platters and trays of condiments. Aunt Rose wasn’t any better as she could barely stand straight. Never could figure out why my parents allowed the wine to flow so freely when they knew Aunt Rose had a little drinking problem. We managed to get everything squared away, even Tyler and Tyson were quite helpful and didn’t pull any jokes while cleaning up. The dishwasher was filled and Mandy and Sybil took out the dessert plates while I put on the coffee. I figured the sooner I got the dessert out of the way, the sooner I would be able to leave.
The adults sat in the living room and I could still feel the tension in the air so I motioned to Mandy for us to eat in the kitchen. The twins and Sybil followed us and we sat in the kitchen nook eating our slices of hot apple pie with cheddar cheese. None of us had much to say, we were just glad that the evening was coming to an end. I told my cousins that they were welcome to visit me in El Paso anytime they wanted. Tyler, always the optimist, tried cheering us up with a joke about a Texan and we pounced on him with fake punches all in fun. We stacked our dishes in the sink, not caring at this point whether the dishes were finished or not and went into the living room to say my goodbyes. I hugged my father and hugged and kissed my aunts and uncles. I looked at mother and she told me to take care of myself and not be such a stranger. I said, of course I would and I would call soon as I walked to the foyer.
I put my coat on and Mandy handed me my bag. I hugged her tightly and whispered in her ear ‘Come visitme girl, I don’t think I can come back here.’ She looked at me, ‘Sorry,’ she said then nodded in agreement and tried her best to smile. I took her hand to my chest and breathed, ‘Take care sweetie,’ then turned around and dashed for my car. There was a light coat of white everywhere but thankfully the streets were manageable as I made my way out of the neighborhood.
I wished that I could feel some of the holiday cheer that all the Christmas decorations represented. Why on earth was my family so mean? Why couldn’t they just let me be myself and lay off the rest of the family? I thought it ironic that we had lived in a suburb called Loving all these years and not been able to live up to it.
I glanced at the clock. It was already ten fifteen and I thought oh good, I won’t be too late after all. With about a four hour trip ahead of me and not wanting to drive through the night I put on a 'Reba' tape and headed toward my best friends house to stay the night as prearranged.
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