Grandma Prior greets everyone without acknowledging me. She finally looks up and sees me standing in the doorway. I can feel her eyes burning into my flesh, looking me up and down. "Beatrice." She states my name as if it is a curse, a disgrace. "I see you still haven't filled out."
I gulp hard, trying to not let my emotions get the best of my judgement. "I guess all the height genes went to everyone else in the family." I say it with a smile, but there is an underlying hint of venom in my words.
She raises one evil eyebrow. "It doesn't work like that sweetheart," she spits out. I want to wrap my hands around her throat, but my fathers voice interrupts my plan.
"So mother, how have you been?"
"Pretty fucking good until I saw my good looks weren't passed onto my only granddaughter!" You could hear a pin drop. No one dared take a breath. No one in Abnegation is supposed to be vain enough to care about how they look, but an insult on one's attractiveness is foreign territory. No one knows how to respond. I can feel my eyes bulge out of my head and my fists clench. My mother looks at me nervously, as if she can see my rabid instincts ready for the right moment to attack. Father appears to be somewhat confused, but stares at Grandma Prior, as if trying to convey a silent message. Caleb is biting his lip and staring at the ground.
Grandma Prior looks around at the group of us, before letting out a cackling laugh. It is too loud for this room, too large for this moment, and I cringe. "I was just kidding you guys! Wow, you guys really are stiff, aren't you?!"
No one responds.
We are eating on the floor, and I cannot help but stare at Grandma Prior's mouth. I know I should not stare, nor should I pass judgement, but this is rather distracting.
Grandma Prior had false teeth because she failed to execute proper oral hygiene throughout her lifetime. As a result, her mouth was disgusting. But the weirdest part was that she still had some real teeth. You knew which ones were real by looking at the top of them. Yes, you heard me, the top of them. The false teeth were sort of pointed like regular teeth, but the fake teeth... well, weren't pointed. They were flat and probably the width of your pinkie finger. The top of the flat teeth were a brown color, a shade usually reserved for dried mud.
Okay, now that you have that visual, you need to understand how she chews. Go into your attic into that box of Christmas decorations. Get the nutcracker. Now watch how the mouth moves when you activate his nutcracker action. That is how she chews. Observe the crumbs from the crushed nuts dribbling down the front of him.
Now, take a plastic baggie of paste or liquid. The important part is that the contents are under pressure. Put it in the mouth of the nutcracker. Activate the nutcracking. Watch debris spray everywhere within a five mile radius.
That is how she eats when she is surprised.
And apparently very surprised she was when she looked up and saw me and Caleb sitting next to each other.
Caleb and I have always been different looking. Me, with my eyes too large for my face and nose that is too long with wispy blond hair. And then there is Caleb. If he had been born into any other faction, he would be called handsome, the girls would chase after him. He has perfectly proportionate, symmetrical features. As a bonus, he is always exceptionally well groomed.
The contrast between the two of us caught Grandma Prior's eye. "You-" she began, with food pouring down the front of her shirt. "Two-" she continued, struggling to swallow the food that hadn't fallen out of her mouth. "Look so... different."
In defense of my mother, she saw what was coming and tried to steer the conversation away with distractions. But it was no use, Grandma Prior was fixated and going in for the kill. She waved her fork between the two of us, before finally settling on Caleb. "You-you're the cute one," she said. Naturally, Cale looked down at the ground, smiling modestly while silently agreeing with her.
I felt a hollow pit in my stomach, because once again, I was the lesser sibling.
"You're not very smart though. You need a rich wife." It was not said in a mean or aggressive manner, rather in a casual, factual tone. "Has anyone ever told you that you look like that dapper young actor... I think his name is Ansel something-hort?"
"Abnegation doesn't allow for self indulgent tabloids, Grandma Prior. I don't know who that is." He spoke stiffly, his voice dripping in disdainful caution. He does not acknowledge her other comments.
Grandma Prior's gaze began to linger on me, picking her next target.
"Well, Beatrice, you're not very pretty. But I don't Worry about you because you're smart, you'll be able to take care of yourself." As an afterthought, she added "Which is probably a good thing. Because, well, you know."
I wasn't sure if I was seething because of what she said about me, or because of what she said about Caleb. I wanted to tackle her and make her apologize. What gives her the right to say those things?!
My mother, always the tension breaker, chirps put "Well, we should probably be going now. Thanks, it was nice to see you!" Neither Mother or Father suggest we should say a more formal goodbye. My mother grabs my forearm with a death grip and practically drags me out of the building.
"And that," my father says between gritted teeth, "Is why it is not a good idea for Grandma Prior to associate with the Abnegation. Actually, with any faction. Beatrice, Caleb, I am proud of you two. Good job."
I am too stunned to respond. Father criticizing someone?
