Worth the Trouble ✓

18 | thanksgiving dinner

CHOPSTICKS REACH FOR A SLICE of glazed turkey and drag it onto a bed of rice.

Suki's mom swallows with a dainty smile.

"How does your family celebrate Thanksgiving, Terrence?"

This Thanksgiving, I'm learning that having more people around a table doesn't make for better conversation. Somehow, at dinner with the Yamatos, I find myself wishing it was just me and Dad. Even though I hate the stifling silence that usually permeates our meals. At least I'm used to his drinking and lethargy. At least it's not unbearably awkward and nerve-wracking.

There's nothing wrong with Suki's parents, turns out.

I prepared myself for overbearing, high-maintenance parents who expected perfect Japanese dining etiquette and diction of me. I researched chopstick etiquette—do not rest them on the rim of your bowl until the end of the meal—only to watch Suki's dad leave his chopsticks on his plate when he went for another beer.

Her parents look like a typical, suburban family.

Maybe it's because they're both perfect and nice that I hate this dinner so much. If they were perfect and rude, I'd tell myself that they're shitty people so I don't need to worry about their opinions. But no, instead they're accommodating but not overbearing, interested but not prying. Perfect hosts. Impossible to hate, but all too easy to disappoint.

It's like an artform, scaring their daughter's boyfriend without being scary at all.

When I arrived, Suki's parents introduced themselves with intimidating full-length Japanese names. But they have convenient nicknames that they encouraged me to use: Haru (Dad) and Niko (Mom). In return I even gave them the opportunity to call me Terry, though I fucking despise that nickname. Suki uses it only to piss me off and get me to shut her up via kissing her.

"It's nothing big. My Dad and I visit my grandparents during the day. Then we have a small dinner and Skype our extended family."

Niko smiles wider, baring perfect teeth. 

Haru pipes up, "What about your mother?"

Suki clears her throat violently. I don't miss the stern frown she gives her father, and the helpless what-did-I-do expression her father shoots back.

But Haru's straightforwardness doesn't offend me.

"My mom's not around anymore," I answer him truthfully. I omit the part about Mom's phone calls, not wanting to prompt any more discussion about the complex family situation.

We've been chit-chatting over dinner for about forty minutes, and I've come to appreciate Haru. He won't talk unless he wants to know something. When he does talk he asks immediately about that thing he wants to know. What classes are you taking? What are your grades like? Are you following the NFL season? Go Patriots.

No ulterior motives, no mind games, no ill intent. A plain, simple dude like myself.

"That's too bad."

I focus on Suki next to me as we descend into an awkward silence. She wears a large sweater and a fleece vest over it, both layers working to hide her figure. That sort of clothing is commonplace on her these days. Having a small bump and baggy clothing conceals everything that needs concealing. Apparently, Suki is showing less than most women do at this point in the pregnancy, though that doesn't surprise me given how petite she was before.

The food is typical Thanksgiving grub, but also not. Alongside the usual turkey, mash, and steamed corn there is a large assortment of vegetables. Some of them I can name, like green beans and asparagus. Most are pickled or shredded such that I can't tell what they originally were. They don't taste too bad, though. Everyone has a bowl of rice as a side, though I declined to scoop myself any.