Mind and Matter

20 | Emerson

It was Thanksgiving Day, and this year my family was hosting. After having helped my mother prepare all morning last minute, I looked like a mess: sweaty, frizzy hair like a halo around my head and old sweatpants from the one week I'd been part of the basketball team adorning my legs. I took a shower and ended up spending twenty minutes lying on my bed in an oversized T-shirt, making no implications that I was going to get dressed anytime soon.

Truthfully, I was avoiding going downstairs because one too many members of my extended family were there. I hated family gatherings because somehow my grandmother always caused a problem. Never had a family gathering not ended in thick tension, muted arguments, and lots of awkward stares.

I found a fitted black dress in the back of my closet and later went on to fix my bird's nest of hair. Forty-five minutes, three re-dos of eyeliner, and a straightener burn later, I sauntered downstairs to finally get this dinner over with.

"Emmy!" My grandmother exclaimed, the moment I made it into the living room, which was filled to capacity with people. She rose up from the armchair in a matching blazer and skirt speckled with flowers that hardly clung to her slim body. She was the far opposite of Leo's grandmother's type, not warm and bubbly with a love for cuisine in the slightest.     

"Hi!" I responded with a wide and slightly fake smile. The reason she refused to call me Emerson—simply, my actual given name—was because she found it too unfeminine. Imagine if my parents had named me Ryan or Alex...

She pulled me into a firm hug, and I looked over her shoulder at my little twin cousins sitting on the couch, looking stiff and uncomfortable in their dress shirts and polished shoes. Mason rushed over and their eyes widened as he showed them his new toy.

My parents were nowhere to be found in the living room. The kitchen loomed behind the living room, and it was empty as well, only the aroma of warm food to show someone had been cooking earlier. I made small talk with a few of my other relatives and then walked farther into the kitchen. That was when I realized they had locked themselves in the small mudroom and were exchanging heated conversation. I could only hear small words and snippets, notably "your mother" "I'm stressed" and "Max."

If my parents were already arguing, this holiday wasn't going to run smoothly.

I leaned slightly against the door and made as little sound as possible, so I could hear more. This was becoming far too normal lately, and I wasn't usually nosy or an eavesdropper. But being the eldest sibling, I felt some responsibility to know what was going on, especially when my parents tried to keep themselves inconspicuous.

"We should have never agreed to host so suddenly!" was the last thing I heard from my mother before the door was yanked open. I fell backwards against it and darted to the sink. Grabbing a cup of water and pulling a random paper towel out to look like I was cleaning, I kept my head down low as both of my parents made their way out.