walker

Donald had warned his fiancée to expect a three-ring circus at his family’s Thanksgiving table, but she’d still insisted on accompanying him on his annual trek north to pay homage. He’d just as soon have waited, let the parents meet Samantha on neutral ground. From the look on her face, she wished she could turn back the clock and reconsider her decision.

He watched his mother waltz in with the second course—miniature flaming crustaceans in a brandy sauce, her own special creation—and place the tray in front of his bride-to-be. Standing back with a flourish like Vanna White (or perhaps a bullfighter wielding a cape—he couldn’t quite make up his mind), his mother waited for a round of appreciative ooohs and aaahs. None came.

The table was in Aunt Lucille’s thrall. Already three sheets to the wind from sampling four times as much cooking sherry as the recipe called for, Lucille was regaling everyone with the story of Cousin Gertrude’s wedding. To Donald’s amusement, Samantha’s eyes widened by the second as she listened to the tale. He reached under the table to squeeze her hand, thankful his mustache hid the smile he could not quite suppress.

Meanwhile, his mother, shoulders sagging, spoke in a small voice to no one in particular, “Well, go ahead and eat. These are no good cold.”

Donald reached for the tray, spooned several crustaceans and sauce onto Samantha’s plate, and then served himself before passing it to his Uncle Fred, who nodded to him absently. All eyes remained on Lucille.

“And so,” said Lucille, waving her hands wildly, “your Great Uncle Teddy got up to make a toast to the bride and groom, but his mind wanders, you know. He toasted Cousin Hortense and her husband, not Gertrude, and you know how those two loathe each other. Why, the two families have practically declared war! We tried to stop him, but he wouldn’t be quiet, launched into a diatribe about the differences the two girls had, and his opinion about who was right and who was wrong, right up there in front of everyone. That’s when Gertrude’s father got into the act. Next thing you know, Teddy is doing a belly flop into the wedding cake.”

“Well, well,” said Donald’s mother dismissively. “Every family has its drunks. I’m sure Samantha would rather talk about more pleasant things.” Donald watched his mother smile at Samantha and pat her hand, and was grateful.

“Stuff and nonsense,” said Aunt Lucille. She glared at Uncle Fred and rubbed her shin.

Donald eyed his uncle. The good old boy had kicked her. Donald’s mother said Lucille had Fred too well trained to open his mouth, but apparently he wasn’t above kicking when he thought it was time for Lucille to shut hers. Not that it made much difference.

“Our family is full of drunks,” Lucille continued. “And Great Uncle Teddy is one you’d best know about, because he never misses a wedding.” She looked meaningfully at Samantha and then at Donald. “You can count on him attending yours. Besides the best part of the story is coming.”

Donald noticed that everyone leaned in towards Lucille—everyone except his mother.

“Teddy came up spluttering and looking for a fight, and he got one all right. ‘Food fight,’ he yelled, and he started flinging cake around. He hit the mother of the bride square between the eyes, so she slung a piece of cutlet at the mother of the groom, and it turned ugly from there. Let me tell you, I haven’t been to a party like that since my college days. The dry cleaners made a fortune.”

Donald looked at Samantha, who’d grown noticeably pale. She swallowed hard and cleared her throat. “Donald, can I see you in the kitchen? I’d like your advice on the candied yams.” She smiled at the others seated at the table. “I’m new at your family recipes, you know.”

“Let me help you,” offered Donald’s mother.

“N-no, Mrs. Tugwhistle. I’d—”

“Harriet. Call me Harriet.”

“Harriet. No, Harriet. Donald and I are going to be a team; I’d like to start working with him now, if you don’t mind.”

As soon as Samantha had Donald in the kitchen, she pulled him aside. “You told me your family was crazy, but not this crazy. Remember when you suggested we elope and I refused? I’ve changed my mind. I don’t want these people anywhere near us on our wedding day.”

Donald suppressed a smile. “Yes, darling. If that’s what it takes to make you happy.”

They returned to the dining room and finished their meal.

At the end of the evening, Donald saw Aunt Lucille and Uncle Fred to their cab and paid their fare. Kissing Aunt Lucille, he whispered in her ear, “Thank you. I hope Uncle Teddy doesn’t mind that you besmirched his character.”

In 2000, Author Gay Walker left behind a thriving medical practice to spend time with her teenaged daughter and pursue a life-long dream of writing fiction. Since then, her publication credits have included a number of non-fiction newspaper and magazine articles, and more recently, publication of her short stories, Lost, The Picnic, A Whole Lot of Empty, and Lady Luck. Her serialized romantic farce, Norbert and Smedley, which saw its 100th episode in June 2008, has also developed an Internet following and she is working towards the publication of her first novel, The Learner's Permit.