14. Turkey Day: TKO'ed

Ten minutes into the meal, I had still yet to speak, and it was becoming obvious. I was so freaked out that I was afraid if I spoke, I would cry. Before we sat down I had convinced Thad that everything was fine, and Becky had so far kept her mouth shut, but the air was pregnant with tension. Turkey, potatoes, gravy and all the fixings stood on the table like toy soldiers heading to war.  

“And so my cousin Maryann, that’s your second cousin, said to me…” Mother continued a longwinded story about relations we could not pick out of a line up, yet we all pretended to listen. She sat at the end of the table, with Smith at the opposite head, and Thad and Becky across from me.

Thad clicked his glass until I looked up. He mouthed, “What’s up?”

Having trouble maintaining eye contact I mouthed, “Nothing,” and forced a shrug.

From the other side of Thad, Becky then mouthed, “You okay?”

And after making sure Thad was not looking, I nodded “No,” and she made a sympathetic frowny face.

“So then Maryann said me to, ‘The coat was your mother’s, but I wanted you to have it.’ And I was just thrilled, as it was a nice old coat with a fur collar that I remember Momma wearing it to church on Sundays…” Mother continued to no one in particular.

“Becky,” Smith interrupted, causing her to jump. “You never answered me earlier when I asked you about the loan I offered you.” 

“What?” She squeaked.

“When I asked you when you could pay me back the money.” He wiped his knife on the side of his plate and it made a slow screech as the metal slid across the china.

I looked down at Mother, who apparently had taken advantage of losing the floor to investigate the pile of stuffing in front of her. Thad chewed and frowned at me. I knew he knew something was up.

“Well, it’ll probably be next summer…” Becky began, her voice wavering. “Our rent is going up January 1^st, so I have to make allowances for that. But I think I can have it paid off by next summer, so then I can start to pay you off…”

“‘Our’ rent? Don’t you mean ‘your’ rent?” Smith said matter-of-factly.

Becky looked like she had been shot through the chest, mouth open like a gash, eyes wide. Smith had gone where we were not supposed to go: Becky’s separation from Ray. She just looked down, silent, and I so felt for her.  

But I had no idea what to do. Do I let him get away with that too, or do I become "the one who ruined Thanksgiving," as Mother would put it for the next twelve months? I was just too weak. I could not do anything, I could not defend my boyfriend and now I could not defend my baby sister, and for that I was deeply ashamed of myself. 

“You should just keep all that to yourself,” Thad said with a mouthful of food, just as brazen as the day he was born.

“What did you say?”  Smith said like a Bond villain, turning to Thad.
“I said,” Thad repeated loudly, not a touch of fear in his voice, “’You should keep all that to yourself.’ This is Thanksgiving. We’re supposed to be giving thanks here.” He chuckled to himself. “And before you go talking about money and bringing up things you shouldn’t, and making piggy snorting noises at people, you should look at yourself sometime. I’m sorry you’ve been sick, but how much weight have you lost? I mean, you look like the Holocaust.”

The table was dead silent, for exactly two seconds until I burst out laughing, a grand guffaw that spit food all the way across the room. And then Becky joined in with me in her high pitched ‘woo hoo’ that sounded a joyous explosion of pent-up happiness and glee. And then Mom even laughed in her good church going ‘tee-hee,’ her tiny hands covering up her pink mouth. And Thad looked as proud as he should have been, taking another giant bite of yams through a huge conquering smile.   

And Smith just sat at the end of the table looking stupid as we laughed at him, no quick repartee, no sling-gun comeback; he just sat there and looked dumb. And it was the most joyous feeling ever. We laughed until we cried, and Smith never flinched, never batted an eye, which made us laugh even more.
It is a joy to see the cruel fail.

And when I finally caught my breath, I inhaled a long pure stream of good air and smiled at Thad as widely as I could and mouthed, “I love you.”

He made kissy lips at me and gave a saucy wink.

I reached for the cranberry sauce, as I felt all of my hatred and anger pass away. “This is really good sauce, Mom. Where did you get the recipe?”

“Well,” Mother began. “I got it from your Great Aunt Imogene, Maryann’s mother, the one I was talking about. Imogene was an old schoolmarm, and she used to make it and bring it to Momma’s, and we just loved it as kids. Isn’t it good? I just love it with the pecans and that bit of orange…”

For the rest of the meal we all laughed and talked and caught-up, and Smith did not say one more god-damn word, and for that we were all thankful.