Chapter 7
I could feel my heart start racing. This didn't normally happen to me. Usually nervousness around my family was practically nonexistent, and even the most dumbass of comments or conversations wouldn't elude me. But as I proceeded walking up to my parents' house next door with Dave, seeing all the cars parked in the driveway, and already hearing the cluster of voices spill from the open windows, I could only anticipate disaster. Lord only knows who was in there. Knowing my parents, they would try and be as kind as possible and even invite my Grandpa Ron, whose logic was probably as close to a carrot's then to an actual human being's. Then there was Bob, good God, who was fairly normal in the aspect of conversation, but the second you mentioned something liberal, no matter the context or degree, he'd go off on rants, which Ron or my other grandfather Daniel would jump in and add along. That would only be made worse if my other uncle, Uncle Pat, was there, and he's the most liberal, progressive, tree-hugging vegan guy that exists on the planet.
I stared wide-eyed as we got to the door, letting my arms set at both my sides as stiff as a nutcracker's. Dave, on the other hand, seemed relaxed in his stance as he managed to smile softly in anticipation for someone to open the door after he knocked.
I heard footsteps, then suddenly, the door opened.
"Kailey! Hey everyone, Kailey's here!" It was my brother. I was shocked to see how tall he was, even how much hairier his beard gotten. He was practically a dark-haired lumberjack version of Obi-Wan Kenobi.
"Hey, Dannen…" I greeted softly, attempting to keep myself as calm and poised as I could. "How are things?"
"Things are great; I missed you!" he said cheerfully. My brother then gestured his arms outward, as if to offer a hug, and out of habit I stepped in. However, he hugged me a little tighter than I had anticipated, and so briefly air puffed out of me like I was one of those rubber chicken memes.
"Ah, Dannen. So you're the little brother I've heard so much about," Dave commented then. He had a joking of-the-sort tone to his voice when he mentioned 'little'. Yes, Dannen was my little brother, but he by no means looked it. Practically from junior year in high school he could have passed off as a 30 year old parent.
"Yeah, that's me!" Dannen turned his attention to Dave after he hugged me. "It's a pretty easy name to remember. Just think of the Dannon yogurt."
"Is that what you're named after?" Dave for a brief moment raised a brow, confused.
"No! It's actually the combination of my dad and my grandfather's first names, Daniel and Darren. You'll never hear another name like it. At least… I think." He paused only for a second once he realized other people were in the house. "I'm sure everybody else wants to see you, Kailey," he said, "and meet this guy."
"It's Octavius Brine."
"Ya, I know what your name is." Dannen chuckled a little, and out of habit looked at me as if to tease me. I gave him the most deathly glare I could give him, which caused him to turn away and walk us into the living room to meet the rest of the family.
Oh God, Ron and Bob were in there. Shit. I would have normally been super happy to see everyone else, but seeing those guys just… blew everything out of proportion. And when I say that, I mean what I felt would be a not-so-awkward day would end up being very much an awkward day. At least Pat wasn't there, so that meant he and Bob wouldn't have a debate in the house for Lord knows how long.
"Kailey!" My Grandma greeted with a little Texan drawl. She was already standing up, and so I quickly found myself in an embrace. I looked around to see Leah, my grandpa Daniel, my Aunt Linda (with her new husband Bob, obviously) my sweet little frail Grammy along with Ron, and of course my Mom and Dad working in the kitchen. They normally didn't greet anyone until Thanksgiving dinner actually started since they were so busy, but at least they had a bigger kitchen to work in now.
"Hey, Grandma," I greeted back, again, my voice seemingly quiet compared to everyone else. "How have you been feeling?"
"Oh, you know, the usual," she started. "I just had another surgery to fix the stiffness in my neck."
"Oh… I thought you already got that fixed years ago?"
"We thought, but it came back," she said with a deep, exaggerated sigh. "I've just been dealing with a lot… with the bladder infections, and my foot cramping up all the time. But what can you do?"
As much as I cared about my Grandma, I was already anticipating this. If I didn't stop her she would list every symptom she was having. "How are the dogs?" I asked next, to steer the conversation a different way.
"Scooter is fine. He had another tooth pulled." I was afraid she was going to go into another symptom check about her damned dogs, but luckily she moved on. "China is stiff, but she's doing good for her old age. As for Darcy, she still pees everywhere when she's excited. Dang dog always has me cleaning the floors."
"Kaileeeeey!" Linda was next. "How are you, sweetie?" Her hug was very brief as well. I ended up going to everyone eventually (avoiding Bob and Ron though, I'm so sorry) and was prepared to start talking, before my dad started ordering me around from the kitchen.
"Kailey! You're not doing anything constructive. Get in here and set the tables!"
"Darren, she just walked in!" my mom fought. "Kailey, just spend time with the family; we got everything covered here."
"Are you sure?" Dave asked. "I could help with some things if you want."
"No need! We're almost done anyway."
"So, Kailey, introduce us to your fiancé," I heard Grandma say next. Welp, it was sure nice knowing everybody. I was prepared to internally combust.
"Uhhh… well, where do I start?" I stuttered first, awkwardly. "He's… Dr. Octavius Brine. The famous geneticist." To be honest I didn't even know why I had to introduce Dave to everyone considering they should know who he is, but I guess the family liked that personal touch to the situation.
"Well, we know that," Grandpa Daniel said in a huffy manner. He wasn't being mean, to emphasize, he just kinda sounded like he was mad all the time. Wasn't his fault. I guess that's what happens when you get old. Well… maybe he was a grumpy old goat, but it was hard to tell. I don't know.
"Tell us about your new business," Leah added in. "What's the progress?"
"Well, we're still waiting on the call from our investors," Dave started to explain. "We won't know the official aspect of our deal until a day or so from now. Nonetheless, things look bright. Soon we'll have an abundance of electricity with no ill results from exhaust fumes and other such things that would cause harm to the environment. It will also save us money in the long run from putting time and effort into energy sources like gasoline and other such powered generators."
"That's going to put a lot of people out of business you know," Bob said next. Here we go now. "The oil industry is going to suffer because of this."
"That is one aspect that I regret… but in order for the population to receive efficient energy, an exchange was going to need to take place sometime or another," Dave explained logically. "It's also better for the environment that we go ahead and start shifting away from oil and gasoline, and types similar to that."
"There wasn't anything wrong with the environment to begin with," Bob fought. "With your new deal, millions of people are going to lose their jobs! The economy is going to suffer, particularly in Texas since that's where a lot of the oil is coming from."
"I assure you, it's not going to wreck the economy in the long run," Dave said. "It may buffer it for a short time, but other jobs will open up."
"Families from all over and of all generations have been in the oil industry since the foundations of this country, and because of this they won't have an income anymore. And when you say more jobs will open that simply means jobs for other people who go into that field. You can't expect a man my age, for example, to go back to school and suddenly get a job in a different field!"
"Bob… look…" I tried to step in, but the debate had already begun.
My brother interjected at that moment. "The oil industry just doesn't disappear overnight; it'll take years, or even decades for it to disappear. In this time people would have already shifted careers, entered retirement, or invested enough time and money in the backflow." His argument, was extremely logical and to the point. As an engineer and physicist himself Dannen often felt obligated to add his stance. "Plus, there are many differences in the industry—most plastics come from oil, for example. You can also distill different types of chemicals from oils, so oil is needed for other things besides energy. It may shrink substantially, but it won't die for a long time. By adding another source of energy to the economy, our country becomes more like an actual capitalist society, because there is more competition. We might even switch to more effective oil powered cars! Who knows?"
"That's all lies! Climate change is a lie that is made up by the liberal addenda!" Ron had to join in.
I saw my brother get puffy for a second, but he managed to hold in any sort of negative confliction and proceed to speak in a very logical manner. "Climate change is real. A large percentage of scientists believe humans are causing a significant flux in environmental changes. "
"That's a lie!" Ron repeated. "It's all a big conspiracy!"
I felt like I wanted to stab myself with one of the forks being set on the table but I had to withhold myself from doing so. I took a deep breath to try and pull myself out of the typical family debate that had somehow erupted, but before I could exhale I heard my dad call from the other room. I couldn't have been more relieved.
"Dinner is ready, everyone!" Dad called. "Come gather around the table!"
I made a quick dash towards the table, leaving all the old people to slowly come to a stand and follow after me. It took a minute or so before everyone was situated. On the table, my parents had already set out the entirety of the meal. My mom's variety of dishes took up most of the table—they consisted of homemade mac and cheese, green beans, brussel sprouts (gross!), dressing, yams, and of course mashed potatoes. Dad's family famous turkey sat in the middle. You could see the variety of fresh herbs cooked into the meat, which only began to add to my appetite.
"Who wants to say grace?" Dad asked next. "Grammy, why don't you say grace?" Grammy was the oldest of the grandparents here anyway, and she had been ill recently, so I guess that's why dad tried to volunteer her. Usually he would do the prayer himself, so this was new.
"Grace?" Grammy asked. "Who?"
"Grace," my mom repeated more sharply for her to hear.
"There isn't anyone in this family named Grace."
"No! Grace!" Ron tried to correct.
Grammy shook her head.
"The blessing!"
"Oh!" Grammy broke from her absent minded state. After she gathered herself and everyone became silent around the circle, holding hands and bowing their heads, Grammy said the prayer. Once she came out of her shell she was a very good speaker—when you looked at her you couldn't really tell, but the moment you heard her start preaching you'd be surprised. Little Grammy had gone into prisons during missions in Ecuador. She was truly an aspiration to follow.
After prayer, we all started to get in line to dig in. While everyone took their time debating on what food to get, I started grabbing food left from right. I had already prepared in my mind what I wanted so it was easy to pick around. Once I got my plate stacked up I retreated to the dinner table to claim my seat and start eating my food. Slowly, but surely, everyone else would join me.
Typically, when it came to the seating of my family members at my old house during Thanksgiving, there wouldn't be enough room at a single table, considering the size of the house was small in comparison with the family that joined us. So that would lead to a divide between my father's side and my mother's side; specifically this separation consisting of my Dad's side at the dinner table while my Mom's side went to sit in the living room. Now, in the new house (which was much larger) we had a single dinner table everyone could sit at. Regardless, everyone still managed to separate themselves in some way, in this case my Dad's side of the family being settled on one side of the table, and likewise my Mom's side taking the other.
Despite this obvious weirdness in division, I kept my head down and kept eating my food. It wasn't until Mom and Dad sat down to join us at the end of the table, along with Dave to my right, and my brother to my left, was when a new conversation begun to arise.
"How's the food everyone?" My dad asked. He usually couldn't help but do so. He liked to hear praise, I suppose.
"The turkey is delicious, Darren," my grandpa Daniel said. "You always make the best turkey."
"How about the dressing?" Dad asked next.
"I don't particularly care for the oysters, Darren," my grandmother spoke next. Everyone seemed to nod along with her. This couldn't be helped. Dad always tried making his weird dressing recipe that consisted of shrimp and oysters that only he seemed to like, but had Mom always make it anyway.
"There is a different batch of regular dressing in the oven…" Mom answered in response to the negative reaction to the seafood dressing. "I don't know why Darren makes me cook that when nobody is going to eat it."
I hadn't realized it but the conversation of there being oysters and shrimp in the dressing had caused Dave to become stiff. I was lucky enough to have looked over in time to see his eye twitching.
"I think… uhhh… Octavius likes it," I added. This seemed to make my mother feel better, but on the other hand my dad began to grin widely.
"You do?" He gasped. "What do you think? What's your favorite part of it?"
"All," Dave answered. That was it. But after a second he sat up and went into the other room, and then after a moment or two returned with a heaping serving of the dressing, along with the mac and cheese. I was beginning to worry this would turn out like the first time Dave had dinner with members of my family, where he shoved an entire fish in his damned mouth, but it didn't seem to be looking like he was heading in that direction.
He picked up a fork, and started to eat his food. Normally. Like a human being.
I could tell he wanted to dive in, but I think he learned well from last time. I couldn't help but sigh.
"I happen to love seafood, so this is delicious," Dave commented, which only brightened up my dad's face even further.
"Well, I'm glad at least somebody likes it," Dad added. "If you want you can take some of that with you next door after dinner."
"Ya, that's a good idea, Darren's on a diet, so it's probably for the best that we have fewer leftovers around here," Mom said.
I was starting to feel a little more comfortable at that time. Mom and Dad were getting along with Dave, and Ron and Bob had shut the hell up at this point, so that was good.
In the midst of my relief the sound of the front doorbell went off. I watched as my mom turned her head to look towards the hallway that lead to the door, but overall she seemed rather perplexed.
"Who could that be?" Mom asked aloud. "I thought everyone was here?"
"I'll get it," Leah offered, sat up, and left the dinner table to disappear down the hall. Once she opened the door, was when I heard him…
It was my uncle. Uncle Pat.
Don't get me wrong; I actually love my uncle. He's a really cool guy and likes playing music like I do, but as of recent he's been… well… an ass.
"Hello everyone," Pat said calmly as he walked in behind Leah. My Grammy perked up immediately.
"Oh, Pat, I'm so happy to see you," she said fragilely. "Come here; I want to see you."
"Hey, Grammy," he greeted, came over, and then bent all the way down to give her a hug. So far so good. I mean, nothing has happened. Yet?
"Why don't you join us?" Mom asked. "There's more than enough."
Pat hesitated, only for a moment. "Sure," he said. We all watched him depart into the other room, but he began to take a little longer than we had anticipated.
"So, Kailey, tell us about that robot thing," Grandma said. "Are you… okay?"
"I'm fine," I stated. "Literally not a big deal." To be honest, I didn't want to talk about it.
"What do you mean 'not a big deal'?" Grandma responded, surprised. "You could have died!"
"That's not the only weird thing that's happened to her," Dannen said next. "I heard on the radio this morning that she was on a plane filled with wild animals."
The entire table looked up at me.
"That's a lie," I said. "Dannen, that wasn't true. The plane was transporting pets, and one was… well, a helper dog for a blind man on the plane. He barked and spooked the flight attendants. Not a big deal."
"Oh, well that's not what they said on the radio. Sounded like that dog was actually a wolf."
"They're a bunch of dumbass—" I caught my cuss word for the sake of my Grammy's more fragile ears. "I mean, idiots. The media only wants attention." I was starting to get a little angry, but oh boy, was I about to be in for it. At that moment, my uncle walked back in.
Pat was calm when he came in, but the stiff look on his face with the measly amount of food on his plate said otherwise. He sat down, sort of dismissively to everyone around him in a sense of looking pouty the entire time, and then lifted a fork and stared at his food like a child that didn't want to eat his vegetables.
"What's wrong?" My mom asked.
"Why do your brussel sprouts have bacon pieces in them?" Pat huffed. "You know I don't eat animal products."
"Oh… well, there is some green beans in there if you don't want that, or the mashed potatoes?"
"No thanks," Pat huffed again. Please realize that the conversation could have been left at that, but… you know. Thanksgiving dinner always brings the joyous family together. And I hope you realize that previous sentence is me being sarcastic.
"I don't know why you just eat whatever like this," Pat stated seriously. "It's terrible for you to eat anything with GMO's or non-organic. Knowing you, I don't even think you should be eating this. Bacon is not only an animal product but carries immense amounts of artificial ingredients to keep it fresh."
"Pat, if you don't want to eat you don't have too," Mom tried settling his sudden one-sided argument quickly, but Pat continued.
"Even your green beans, which you think might be healthy, is actually covered in pesticides. And the gravy you make? Made from milk, obviously, but where do you think that comes from? From a cow that eats grasses grown with pesticides, and if it's not free range, then it lives in its own waste. Not to mention the human body isn't even supposed to be ingesting dairy products beyond their own mother's milk during infanthood."
"Like I said, Patrick, you don't have to eat the food." I could tell this was hurting my mom's feelings. Usually this was something that she could shrug off as a 'Pat moment', but I guess it was starting to become overwhelming to her.
I felt like I wanted to flip the table. It was taking every ounce of me to not fight him. I mean, why should I? This is Thanksgiving. Why do people use this time to talk about politics, or agriculture or whatever the fuck?
I suddenly heard Bob and Daniel talk on the other side of the table. They were in their own world, in a sense of their conversation, but it still didn't matter. It was what they were talking about that made it worse.
"That candidate is a liar and full of shit, I wouldn't be surprised if he got shot his first day in office," Bob said. "I'm telling you, I'm going to move away from America if that socialist gets elected."
All my life I had managed to keep my mouth shut and take it. Every year, whenever I heard weird shit spewing from my family's mouths, I kept it to myself. This was family after all, I should be respectful. I should be a lady. I should be considerate of my elders. Well you know what, screw that shit! They come into my house—
I felt myself explode. Not in a literal sense, of course, but the next thing I knew I was leaning on the table, with my palms squeezing its wooden frames as if I would break it. I honestly don't remember the expressions of my family's faces. I was in a blind rampage, verbally.
"Since when is Thanksgiving dinner, a day to literally give thanks and be with family, and talking about the things that matter suddenly ALL ABOUT POLITICS? I'd rather know where your puppy took a shit today, or what color you painted your nails, than hear one more comment about how much you hate this candidate, or why you think global warming isn't real, or why you're a picky little asshole and don't want to eat your goddamned dinner that was made for you! I am sick and tired, every freaking year, hearing literal diarrhea flying out of your holes! DO YOU EVEN HEAR YOURSELVES? I mean—GOOD GOD CORN IS A GMO! IT WAS LITERALLY GENETICALLY MODIFIED FOR US TO CONSUME! FREAKING PUGS FOR CHRIST SAKES ARE GMOS! AND WHERE ARE YOU GONNA GO, BOB? HUH? IF THAT SOCALIST CANDIDATE GETS ELECTED, ARE YOU GONNA MOVE TO BRITAIN, OR CANADA, A SOCIALIST SOCIETY?"
I felt the last inch of oxygen leave my lungs, and for a brief second my vision went white. For a moment I physically lost my senses. Only then, in the midst of my own white-out, did I finally manage to stand still and get my breathing back together. My vision slowly returned to me like a wave, and only then was when I looked off into the distance, avoiding eye contact.
I sat up, took another deep breath, and walked out of the house.
. . . . . . .
I sat next door in my home, in my room for a good thirty minutes, bawling my eyes out, before I heard somebody come into the house. I'm sure all the mascara on my face had been washed away by then, and my face looked like it was so raw that I might as well have had been punched. I knew this because I would briefly look across the room and stare into the mirror above my clothes drawers and see myself.
I felt so ridiculous. Even though those people deserved to be yelled at, I felt like I was the one that was in the wrong. I mean, was I? Should I have kept quiet and let them bicker?
I heard whoever came into the house start walking up the stairs, but I didn't care. I continued crying, but managed to keep my sobs to a minimum so whoever was coming wouldn't hear me. It was only until somebody finally softly knocked on my door did I pull myself from my cries.
"Please, not now…" I spoke up, but my voice cracked anyway.
"Kailey, it's me…" Dave answered. His voice seemed genuinely concerned.
"I said go away!" I cried out again, this time my obvious bawling becoming… well, obvious.
"Kailey, everything is okay," Dave tried to reassure. "I had a talk with them. Actually, we all had a discussion. And I want to let you know that everything is okay."
"How?" I hissed. "Nothing is ever going to be okay! All people care about is themselves. They don't care what they say. They don't care if it hurts other people's feelings. Everyone is just becoming mindless drones of gossip. I mean—what do they talk about when I'm not there? About me?"
"Kailey… they love you," Dave spoke through the door. "They don't mean it when they say things like that. Yes, people are selfish. Everyone gets like that… even me."
"But you're not like that. Not anymore."
"I might as well be. But then you came along." He paused. "They love you, Kailey. And… I love you too. Please don't stay locked up anymore."
I stayed in my spot on the bed for a while longer, moving my fingers underneath my eyes to try and get rid of my dormant tears. But ultimately, I sat back up, and went to the door.
I managed to crack the door, peering one eye out, only to be met with Dave's concerned stare. I stood back a little, and then let him push the door open the rest of the way. We stood there, on either side of the doorway, for a moment, before he walked in, and gave me a hug.
"They want to apologize," he said as I remained within within his hug. "They mean it. We'll go back together."
"I'm surprised they're not disowning me."
"Why would they?"
"Well, I don't know, really." I took another breath, as in preparation to face them again. "They'll see that I've been crying."
"Good, they need to see that." He smiled. "You know… your mom made you a buttermilk pie. She said it was your favorite kind of pie."
"It is."
"Then do you want to go get some? I've never had buttermilk pie before."
"Really?"
"Yeah… but you wouldn't pass up the chance to show me, huh?"
"No."
"I thought so."
Dave pulled away from the hug, and set both his gloved hands on my shoulders, looking at me straightforward with a soft smile that began to further counter the frown that was on my face. But instead of making me melt, which was so often the case, he relax instead, his smile growing from being chipper and kindly to that of calmness.
"Won't you marry me?" he asked, his voice deep.
I only responded with raising a brow. My face flustered red, adding to my already reddened facial state from having cried for thirty minutes straight, and then punched his arm lightly.
"Let's go get that pie already," I said, "before my dad eats it all."
