hold me down

one

It was Mom's famous cheese salad that tipped me off.

Our Every-Friday-Family-Dinner was taking place at my brother Brian's house, like the every dreaded end of the week. His wife, Mandy, and their two spoiled children, Lindy and Brady, were seated across from me, Brian and Dad at the ends of the tables. Dad and Brian were clad in their usual business suits and black ties, squeaky shoes and scornful looks full of money and degrees. Mom and Mandy were also wearing their everyday sweaters buttoned on the third pearl, short diamond necklaces, business pants and stilettos.

And then there was me.

Jeans and the only nice shirt I owned, which was more of a lame attempt at pretending my distressed black sweater was dressy. My odd blonde hair had recently been chopped to my shoulders because of Mom's nagging words to have it cut.

Mandy glanced over me every few seconds, Mom as well who would narrow her eyes to the side and scoff lightly under her breath. Their eyes were judgmental and vacant, all joy from their younger years wiped away in their twenties and forties.

Dad and Brian completely ignored me; I was older than Brian by a year, yet he acted as if I weren't alive, as if we were still in the 1700's and I was to be seen and not heard. I never enjoyed being heard, anyways. If I said one little word of how I was doing or that I was, in fact, still alive, someone would find a way to pick it apart and tear at my throat.

But I still attempted a simple sentence when the cheese salad came out.

Picking over the Swiss and Provolone chunks amongst the pieces of lettuce, Mom addressed me. "How have you been, Rydell?"

I lifted my head slowly from its slumped position, looking around at the pairs of eyes blazing at me. "Oh, uh, good."

"Good? Just good? What's wrong?" Dad bit back, lifting his hands in exclamation.

"Nothing, Dad, I'm fine."

"You know," Brian spoke, "fine never means you're okay. It always means something's wrong. Mandy studied psychology."

"I studied psychology," Mandy nodded with purses pink lips.

"Mhm," I nodded, shoveling more food into my mouth so I wouldn't have to add a comment.

"Don't eat like that!" Mom widened her eyes. "You'll get fatter so much easier."

"Fatter?" I slammed down my fork, gulping the rest of the chewed bits. Almost choking, I stood abruptly to my feet. "Fatter? What do you mean by fatter?"

"As in add more fat to your stomach, and thighs. Oh, Rydell, your thighs look much larger today. Don't wear those jeans." Mom mumbled the last part, as if she could save me from embarrassment.

"Seriously?"

"Yes, now sit down, Rydell, you're causing interruptions to our civil dinner. Oh, look at that, you even blew out a candler by yelling. Now sit," Mom grabbed me by the wrist.

I pushed her off, knocking over my chair. "Why's Aunt Rydell doing that, mommy?" Lindy crossed her eyes at me.

Brady made a disgusting snort at me, kicking my leg underneath the table. "Ouch, you little brat!" I grabbed across the table, causing him to burst out in tears. 

"Rydell!" Mom shouted, crossing her arms.

"Oh, please stop. I'm twenty-six years old! Please don't treat me like I'm two!" I yelled back.

Mom scoffed, "Well if you're going to grab at your nephew like one, you will be treated like one. Discipline."

"Discipline! Seriously? He just kicked me, Mandy, where's the discipline?"

Mandy looked down, rolling her blue eyes.

Mom continued to shout at me, and I of course bit back harsh words until Dad slammed his hand down on the table. The utensils clinked against the white table cloth, and Lindy squealed.

"Silence, both of you," he boomed. "I really hate to see you treat your mother like this, Rydell. And I hate to ask you of this, but please leave the table."

"Wh-" I crossed.

"Leave."

I stumbled out of the room, tears stinging the corners of my eyes. Mascara dripped down my cheeks as I fell into my car seat, the door slamming behind me. I started up the junked up car, pulling out of the driveway and down random streets until I finally parked at the curb. Rain began pouring out of thunder as black raced across my cheeks. The sad thing about this moment wasn't that I was crying, or the fact that my stomach began to throb wth sobs.

The sad thing was, I'm used to this.