Five Things
Be careful what you ask for...
Lucy nudged him. He raised his eyes from his contemplation of the table cloth, and, without moving his head, looked at her from under his brows. She was smiling her “you’re-caught-now-ha-ha” smile which Bobby had hated since their childhood.
“Now, come on, Bobby,” Grandma said. “We’re waiting.”
He shook his head and muttered, “L-let somebody else go f-first.”
“Somebody else always goes first. This thanksgiving, it’s your turn,” she said, her chin jutted out in the I’m-taking-no-nonsense-from-you way she had. “Up. Up and at ‘em, boy.”
Bobby rose from his chair, wishing his body would continue rising until he went on through the ceiling and out into the gray, cloudy day, away from the yearly family get-together, away from his demanding grandmother, who never missed an opportunity to embarrass him.
“Ok. Let’s hear ‘em,” Grandma said. “What five things are you most thankful for this year”
She settled back smugly in her chair, knowing she’d won this little tussle, arms crossed, awaiting Bobby’s stammering, stuttering, blushing, belabored speech. He looked at her, and, before he realized he’d done so, made a momentous decision. She’d regret this. And he’d make sure she never called on him first again.
He uncharacteristically raised his head and looked around the table, meeting each pair of eyes, those of his family members and their guests, in turn.
“F-first, Grandma, I’m thankful you were able to wipe the d-dirt and dog hairs off the t-t-turkey when you dropped it on the f-floor. At least we had some turkey for thanksgiving. Even if it was a little g-gritty.”
He was rewarded by a gasp from Grandma, who clapped her hand over her open mouth, that was surrounded by her reddening face, and whose eyes darted around the table at the shocked stares she was receiving from her guests.
“Second, I’m th-thankful Uncle Chester was able to make it home from p-prison to be with us for thanksgiving this year.”
“Prison!”
“I thought you said he was working in South America, Bessie!”
Comments rippled around the table, and the two guests seated on either side of Chester Gates inched in their chairs away from him.
“Third, I’m thankful that C-cousin Melanie was given a clean bill of health over that TB scare she g-gave us last month.”
When the man who had come to the dinner with Melanie leaned away from her and looked at her askance, she jumped up and ran sobbing from the table.
“F-fourth, I’m thankful that Lucy d-decided not to abort the baby she’s carrying.”
Lucy’s mother, Aunt Jessie, let out a little squeal and fainted. As those seated closest to her jumped up to assist in reviving her, Bobby continued.
“And f-fifth, I’m thankful--”
“NOOOOO!” shouted Grandma. “You’ve been thankful enough! Hush your mouth, boy!”
With a smirk plastered on his face, Bobby sat down, looked with a smile around the table at the ongoing chaos he’d created and said, to no one in particular, “Wh-what’s for dessert?”