4 posts tagged “conversation”
This is the general advice I needed like five years ago: being hot doesn't make others overlook the fact that you're fucking crazy. Construe that passage any way you'd like, but I definitely spent more time on one than the other and figured out, in my own time, why that was probably wrong.
Much, much happier now, by the way, yknow with the mental stability and the eating.
"So, what is everyone doing for Thanksgiving?"
Everyone answered at once, scattered bits floating their way to the surface. The muddled words soon molded themselves into phrases like, "My parents are having ... the championship football game on Friday... because they don't even like turkey, so they ... making four pies this year instead of three." I wouldn't say that I slunk back into my seat so much as I put on my great big 'I'm listening to you talk about your life' face.
"Okay, okay! How bout this .. Jane, are you going to your parents'?"
Oh shit.
"Yeahhhh. Twenty-eight of us."
"Ooooooooooh."
"All in one house."
"Wowwwwwwwwwwwwwww."
"And Steve, you're going down South, right?"
No. No no no. No no no no no no no.
" ... son's unhappy because he has to stay behind to play in the championship football game on Friday."
"Oh really? I didn't know they made the playoffs this year."
"Yeeeeeassssssss. We weren't sure about the plans an' all, but he'll stay behind with some friends."
"And Margaret, what are you doing?"
This isn't happening.
"Family, you know. The usual. Turkey, stuffing, pumpkin pie."
"Nice, and Stella? You're going to DC, right?"
All eyes were on me and suddenly I felt the need to stab my plastic fork into the massive pile of pork fried rice on my plate and fish around for small bites as if I was nothing but a marionette.
"No, not anymore," I replied.
Do not cry.
"Huh? Where are you going? Back to Boston?"
Double eyes on me. My plastic fork felt useless in my hand as I tried to force more rice into my mouth. Why couldn't I look these people in the face?
Do NOT cry. This is not a big deal.
"Nah."
"So what are you doing?"
"Chillin here I 'spose."
"Alone?"
This is not a fucking big deal.
"Yeh." My head bowed itself into what seemed a deep prayer.
"Awwwwwwwwwwwww!"
Stoppit
"Stella you can come to MY house."
"Alone? You can't do Thanksgiving ALONE."
This is not a big deal.
"All we do is eat turkey and watch football at my house. You have my cell phone number, right? Stella, come overrrrrr."
"Yeah, go to her house!"
Deep breath. Smile. Look somebody in the fucking face. This is not a big deal. BREATHE.
"I mean, no big, guys. Seriously," I shook my head. I didn't want them to know. I don't want this pity. I wish I could lie to people. Jesus Christ do I wish I knew how to lie to people.
"No, but call me. Seriously. You should come over."
This is not a big deal. Genocide is a big deal.
"Yeaaaahh." I nodded. Not in agreement, but in that, 'I understand this is your moral obligation and I will call you if I'm on the verge of suicide because it's a holiday and I neither have a family nor plans' way. If that's a 'way'. I think it is.
Then silence for a solid and awkward thirty seconds. Like one of those Moments of Silence people have for the deceased or slightly after prayer in church, but way less holy.
Move on to the next person move on to the next person move on to the nex --
"And Teddy, what are your plans?"
Sigh
Magically I wasn't stabbing at my pork friend rice anymore.
