My family is dysfunctional, just saying. My mom is like I said before, a true medium/psychic. My dad is pretty normal, considering he’s put up with my mom all these years. My fifteen-year-old sister is a self-absorbed teen—always texting, concerned about boys, hair and clothes, in that order. My seventeen-year-old brother is a popular jock—always surrounded by a crowd of admirers. Luckily, he doesn’t let it go to his head, and is a really nice guy. I know it’s weird that a sister describes her brother as nice, but it’s the truth.
Now the grandparents…where do I start? My mom’s parents are…well, my granddad, George Anderson, is a normal quiet guy. He usually lets Alice, aka Grandma, do all the talking, which she does too well. She’s so outspoken that sometimes it can be downright embarrassing. My dad’s mom, Beatrice Jones-Phillips, is snooty. She’s materialistic and looks down on others not of her status. My grandfather on my dad’s side passed over five years ago from a heart attack, which many, including my mom, believe my grandmother caused. I’m not saying my grandmother—yes, we call her Grandmother—is evil, she just lives on another realm, above ours. She’s the one who wanted to send me to that finishing school.
“Are we going in, or are you going to sit in the car and daydream all day?” Kevin’s voice interrupts my thoughts.
“Yeah, let’s get this over with.”
Julie opens the passenger door as I open mine.
The front door is flung open by my brother Mike, whose tortured look says everything. “Where have you been? It’s been hell in here. Mom says I can leave as soon as we eat, so let’s get eating,” he says, accepting my hug.
“Hey, dude, lighten up. We’re here,” Kevin replies, ruffling his hair. “It can’t be all that bad.”
“It’s more than bad. Grandma and Grandmother are really at it today, and Dad is MIA. He went to the store more than an hour ago. Wish I had gone with him.”
“Where’s Bridget?” I ask, not wanting to go into the house now.
“She’s in her room, where else? Said she won’t come down until the food is being served. I made the mistake of being thirsty and snuck down for a drink and got caught up in the mess,” Mike groans.
Julie giggles, grabs his arm and pulls him into the house. I follow, closing the door, ready for the battle.
“Oh, here they are!” My mom, Sarah Phillips, is a vision of beauty, not a hair out of place on her blonde head and her makeup is done up perfectly. She moves her slim form forward and gives us all a hug. My mom is a major hugger and she gives the best and warmest hugs.
“Pandora, have you put on a little weight?” Grandma Alice looks me up and down and then envelops me in an overpowering perfumed embrace. She is as short as I am, that’s where I get my height. My siblings were blessed with the tallness of my father’s side. Andersons have a slight weight problem, whereas on the Phillips side, extra weight wouldn’t dare show up. “You look better with a little more fluff around the middle. You were too skinny a couple weeks ago. Your boobs even look a little bigger. Don’t they, George?”
My poor granddad looks like a deer caught in the headlights, obviously not knowing how to respond. You would think after all these years, he’d be prepared.
“How crass, Alice, really?” Grandmother Phillips, tall and willowy, has her say. “Is that any way to talk to our granddaughter? Except for her wardrobe choice, she looks fine.”
“Beatrice, don’t you think it’s time to get that stick out of your high and mighty ass for once?” Grandma chuckles, and we all cover our mouths to hide the smiles that appear at her words.
“Now, Mom and Beatrice, we’ll be having guests, so I want you to be on your best behavior, please!” Mom interjects sternly, knowing it’s no use. They’ll behave the way they want to and nobody will change that.
“Guests?” I ask, looking at my mom and then past her to the dining room table, quickly counting the number of plates and silverware laid out. Three extra?
Three?
Oh no. Tell me it’s not true.
The doorbell rings and my mom gives a sigh of relief and pushes past us to open the door. Why am I not surprised? There stand my drool-worthy, bodacious roommates, smiling as if they know they’re giving me heart palpitations.
How could Mom do this to me? I mean, things have been going just fine, and then my mother takes it upon herself to invite them to Sunday’s Hell Table. Yes, I said “hell” on Sunday. Sue me. I’m only speaking the truth. Just you wait and see.
“Well, hello. It’s so nice to finally meet you boys,” my mom gushes.
Boys? Freakin’ hell, they are definitely not boys.
Their grins get bigger and Drew pulls a bouquet of red roses from behind his back, presenting them to my Mom. She’s actually blushing, which I’ve never seen before.
We hear a car door shut, hailing my dad’s return. The next few minutes are chaotic, and I can’t and won’t begin to describe it. The introductions are finally over and we sit at the dining room table, surrounded by my mom’s mouthwatering food. Everyone is here except for Bridget, and when Mike is asked to go and get her, he pulls out his cell and calls her. We laugh and he just shrugs.
We hear the thud of feet on the stairs and she finally appears. Bridget is tall and willowy with blonde hair, just like Mom’s and Mike’s. No, I’m not adopted. In his youth, my dad had red hair just like me, but in his twenties it went a brownish color. Now the red only shows up in the sun.
As she walks to her seat, Bridget’s fifteen-year-old mouth is hanging open and her eyes are wide. Her cell, which is her whole world, falls to the carpet, taking a bounce.
“Honey, close your mouth and come sit so we can introduce you to Dora’s new roommates.”
Like a zombie, she moves and sits next to our dad, mouth still open like a baby bird waiting to be fed. Dad reaches over and pushes her lower jaw up, which seems to shock her back to reality. She frantically looks down at her hand, and then heaves a sigh of relief as Mike hands over her cell.
“Put that away. It’s rude. Now this is Drew, Liam, and Colin. And guys, this is Bridget, our youngest,” Mom explains as Bridget stares, but at least her mouth is closed.
I can tell she wants to call her “posse,” as she refers to them, or at the very least film the three models in front of her in order to post the video to her Vine account. I thought only guys had possees, but she quickly informed me a few years ago that I was wrong. The food starts to be passed around, and I think maybe my family might actually behave for once.
“So, what’s it like to be queer nowadays?” Grandma asks, plopping a mound of mashed potatoes on her plate. I choke on the sip of water I’ve just taken and turn bright red as my dad, who is sitting on my right-hand side, thumps me hard on the back. I don’t want to raise my head. I wish a hole would just open up in the floor and swallow me whole.
“Well, Mrs. Anderson, it’s better for us gays in today’s world. We still can’t get married in every state, but I see that happening one day soon,” Drew says smoothly with a straight face. The straight face doesn’t work as well for Julie, who’s laughing so hard she’s turning redder than I have ever been.
“That was a rude question, Alice. As usual, you have completely lost your manners, what little you started with,” Grandmother says, sticking her nose in the air.
“Oh, come on. You wanted to ask them yourself. You know you did, but that stick prevents you.”
“Mom and Beatrice that’s enough. You’re embarrassing our guests, and I won’t have it. Now shush and let’s say grace.” My poor mom, I bet she wants a hole to open up beneath her too.
“We might offend the q—gays if we do that. Do you guys say grace?”
At least she said “gays” this time. Drew, Liam, and Colin look at each other and then, as always, the other two leave it up to Drew to answer.