family gatherings are always torturous. We see one another once, maybe twice a year. We are family, but we have very little in common except that we are all terrible at small talk. We search one another’s eyes, trying to communicate something of who we really are while we have strained discussions about the weather, politics, our jobs, or absent family members. But today the entire McLaughlin clan is here, so we’ve lost one topic of conversation.
This is the first time we’ve had full attendance in ten years, since Papa died. While he was alive, there was no thought of missing a family gathering. It wouldn’t have occurred to anyone, not even Uncle Pat. His presence removed all choice. But now, with Papa gone, family is an option, and somehow that changes the way we regard one another. At these gatherings we size one another up and glance for the nearest exit and wonder, Why are you here? Why am I here?
We have appetizers outside on the back porch. It’s a nice day, but not warm enough for people to take off their coats. We find seats (the catering company left lots of folding chairs) and eat buffalo wings and Cheddar with crackers and raw vegetables with dip.
I sit with Gracie on one side of me and Angel on the other. Angel is a sad-looking woman in her early forties. As far as I know, she is sad for two reasons: one, because she is married to my uncle Johnny, who is very depressed and hardly ever speaks, and two, because she has been unable to conceive a child despite years of fertility treatments. I usually try to avoid Angel, as I find her sadness contagious. She sighs a lot.
I have barely taken a bite of a cracker before Angel leans in. What I’ve been dreading the most is about to begin. Ever since the moment I declared premed as my major in college, my aunts and uncles have considered me a medical expert. No matter what I say, my family refuses to give up their grossly mistaken belief that wanting to be a doctor is the exact same thing as being one.
“Lila,” Angel says, her voice so soft it is almost a whisper, “I’ve been having these pains in my lower back. What do you think it could be?”
Theresa, seated on the other side of Angel, joins in. Her black Farrah Fawcett waves bounce in my direction as she says, “My Mary’s been suffering from terrible menstrual cramps. Is that normal for someone her age?”
My whole body hurts. My aunts sound like patients, like the men and women whining at me from their hospital beds. I can’t help any of them. There is nothing I can do.
“Mom.” Mary is suddenly nearby, gripping one of the three crosses around her neck. “Don’t talk about that, please. You’re embarrassing me.”
I clear my throat and give them my usual spiel. “I’m not a doctor yet. You should really ask your physician for advice.” But they keep looking at me as if I have a direct line to God. I hear myself give one of Angel’s sighs. “I assume you’ve both tried Advil?”
“Yes,” Angel says.
“Morning and night,” Theresa says, her hand on Mary’s knee.
Meggy passes by on her way to the food. “What’s the point of having a doctor in the family if you can’t get free advice?”
“I’m not a doctor,” I say. “I’m still a fucking student. Will you all please hear that for once?”
“Lila,” my mother says, from the other side of the porch. “Your language!”
“I’m sorry,” I say, but my aunts look unfazed. I expect Travis to add insult to injury and ask me about his bum knee, but he is busy talking to my cousin John.
Aunt Meggy starts to complain to the group at large about the traffic she hit driving up here. She says three times that she will have to head out early in order to be in her bed before midnight. Aunt Theresa reaches out and smoothes Mary’s hair away from her face until Mary stands up and crosses to the opposite side of the porch. Angel, keeping an eye on Uncle Johnny, praises the food while taking small nibbles from a buffalo wing. Mom makes her usual joke about how she has spent hours slaving over a hot stove to make this meal. Dad doesn’t say much; he hardly ever speaks at these family gatherings. He keeps his eyes on Mom to make sure she