From: Étienne St. Clair <[email protected]>
Subject: Re: Christmas Dinner
YOU feel sorry for ME? I am not the one who has never tasted bread pudding. The hospital was the same. I won’t bore you with the details.
Though I had to wait an hour to catch the bus back, and it started raining. Now that I’m at the flat, my father has left for the hospital. We’re each
making stel ar work of pretending the other doesn’t exist.
P.S. Mum says to tell you “Merry Christmas.” So Merry Christmas from my mum, but Happy Christmas from me.
To: Étienne St. Clair <[email protected]>
From: Anna Oliphant <[email protected]>
Subject: SAVE ME
Worst. Dinner. Ever. It took less than five minutes for things to explode. My dad tried to force Seany to eat the green bean casserole, and when
he wouldn’t, Dad accused Mom of not feeding my brother enough vegetables. So she threw down her fork, and said that Dad had no right to tel
her how to raise her children. And then he brought out the “I’m their father” crap, and she brought out the “You abandoned them” crap, and
meanwhile, the WHOLE TIME my half-deaf Nanna is shouting, “WHERE’S THE SALT! I CAN’T TASTE THE CASSEROLE! PASS THE SALT!”
And then Granddad complained that Mom’s turkey was “a wee dry,” and she lost it. I mean, Mom just started s creaming.
And it freaked Seany out, and he ran to his room crying, and when I checked on him, he was UNWRAPPING A CANDY CANE!! I have no idea
where it came from. He knows he can’t eat Red Dye #40! So I grabbed it from him, and he cried harder, and Mom ran in and yel ed at ME, like
I’d given him the stupid thing. Not, “Thank you for saving my only son’s life, Anna.” And then Dad came in and the fighting resumed, and they
didn’t even notice that Seany was stil sobbing. So I took him outside and fed him cookies, and now he’s running around in circles, and my
grandparents are stil at the table, as if we’re all going to sit back down and finish our meal.
WHAT IS WRONG WITH MY FAMILY? And now Dad is knocking on my door. Great. Can this stupid holiday get any worse??
To: Anna Oliphant <[email protected]>
From: Étienne St. Clair <[email protected]>
Subject: SAVING YOU
I’m teleporting to Atlanta. I’m picking you up, and we’l go someplace where our families can’t find us. We’l take Seany. And we’l let him run laps
until he tires, and then you and I will take a long walk. Like Thanksgiving. Remember? And we’l talk about everything BUT our parents . . . or
perhaps we won’t talk at all. We’l just walk. And we’l keep walking until the rest of the world ceases to exist.
I’m sorry, Anna. What did your father want? Please tell me what I can do.
To: Étienne St. Clair <[email protected]>
From: Anna Oliphant <[email protected]>
Subject: Sigh. I’d love that.