Prise de Fer

We segregate by gender after the Thanksgiving feast, the men of the family going into the living room to watch a football game, my aunt and grandmother left washing dishes in tandem. The landline rings as Mémère walks by to the hutch. "Who's that? Who calls you at dinnertime?" she asks, startled.

Without looking up from her coloring scroll, my six year old cousin deadpans, "The Underworld."

Please, Universe, let her rebel against her rich, conservative Yankee background to become the weird artsy girl in high school.
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Thanksgiving went fine, as I'd predicted and plotted. Peas, half a yam, less than a tablespoon of canned cranberry sauce, and a small slice of turkey. No seconds. No pie. Maybe an extra glass of red wine (Viansa Dolcetto Athena), roughly 88 calories to spare. Couldn't get either boyfriend down for the extended holiday. C. faced 3/5 of his family gathered for a hockey game. The other, J., is as antisocial as I am and misanthropic enough to ignore any familial obligations three years of dating would have; he stayed home because he would have anyway and worked on a paper. I only minded the absence of a buffer since my sisters antagonized as usual, brazen in front of their guests who view our family as a circus. Not trading their barbs makes me come across thick and callow. Never move back home and expect to be treated like an adult, or at the very least, a boarder. I've been trapped in a suspended state of adolescence. Hot behind the ears knowing my parents love me because they would consider themselves bad not to, a matter of principle not to be confused as unconditional. My sisters don't need to pretend. Is it any surprise who ended up the symptom-bearer? Who hears this broken record skipping and sings its missing notes?

High school nights, I would put on a record - something with dissonant guitars against a carefully crafted synth backdrop - and kick out the bedroom window screen to dangle my legs. Anger goes numb from the cold like extremities. 39 degrees doesn't cut it. This city needs a wind that stabs in the face, showing breath while stealing the words.