Spiral (2 page)

Mom scurries to sequester Britney, and she doesn’t even see me when she runs past. Her frantic eyes and tight mouth tell me that, along with the decorations, good, old-fashioned Hansen holiday tension is back, too. It’s a lot like the feeling you get when your parents take you to the housewares part of a department store. You’re always walking with your hands clasped tightly in front of you, as if one wrong move will make all those fancy plates clash and clatter and shatter into a million pieces on the floor. Tonight’s been built up by my mother as some culminating exam she has to pass to prove her worthiness as a wife and mother-figure to Jim’s kids.

In truth, it should be the other way around. But in my mother’s twisted, never-worthy-enough psyche, thanks to my father, she’s always one wrong move away from causing this whole world she’s rebuilt to crash down around her.

I think that’s why there are two tables this year. She knows there will be fireworks, and she’s determined to keep all of the kids in one spot far enough away that we won’t be seen giving each other dirty looks or heard sniping at each other. I’ve been demoted to the annoyingly prescribed “kid table.” I fought my mom hard on that one. I haven’t had to sit at a kid table in years, partly because I haven’t been a kid for years. I’ve been the man of the house, but I guess I’ve been demoted from that, too.

Really, I just don’t want to have to sit with Jim’s evil twin daughters all night, but I promised I would try to get along with them. It was a huge, overachieving promise; they’re possibly the rudest human beings on the planet. Mom always tells me I have to be patient with them because they didn’t have a mom to raise them to be ladies, but I think that’s just an excuse. They’re mean with a capital M, and I don’t think it has anything to do with their mother dying when they were little. Mom will say anything to make me behave; she just wants to create the image of a cookie cutter family, one who gets along and says “please” and “thank you” when they pass the platters, the kind that has safe but uproarious snowball fights. In truth, if the twins are involved in anything, there won’t be any pleases and thank yous, and if we have a snowball fight, it’s going to get ugly.

But I promised my mother that I’d try. I promised to bite my tongue and be the bigger person. And I will, if they leave me alone.

I stop at the door to the family room and get a good look at my dungeon for the evening.

The kid table is like something you’d see in a painting. The bright red table cloth is polka dotted with the white china from Mom’s first wedding. On this table, where something is destined to be broken, these old plates scream “nice enough to still use for the holidays, but expendable.”

My eyes travel to the middle, which is decorated with two miniature Christmas trees and a giant Menorah in between them. Jim’s family is Jewish, but we’re Catholic. Reason #72 this night has to go perfectly for my mom: Jim’s family was apparently concerned about him bringing on board a family who practices the opposite of their beliefs. My mom is doing her best to prove her worthiness and religious tolerance all in the same night.

Sure Mom, slap a menorah in there,
I muse to myself.
That makes it all better.

Britney scampers in from the dining room. She sees me and lights up. I light up, too.

“Jackie!”

“Hey, brat!”

The distraction is exactly what my mom needs. She pounces and catches the elusive five year old, who thinks the chase is one big game and scream-laughs.

Mom rolls her eyes in my direction and finally notices me. “Oh, thank goodness you’re finally down here. I just finished setting the kids’ table.” She thrusts Britney at me. “Here, take your sister before she breaks something!”

“Okay.” She falls into my arms. “What’re you doing, brat? Getting into trouble?”

Britney cries, “Jackie!” She climbs me like a tree and swings from my neck.

“Britney, I told you, say ‘Jack.’ Jackie is a girl’s name.” I set her squirrely body down on the ground.

“Suits you anyway.”

A shiver runs down my spine.
Chloe
. She is the worst of the twins. The mere sound of her voice makes my skin crawl. If she were an animal, she’d be a nasty housecat. I see her red-orange hair flip as soon as I hear her low, menacing purr. She swishes by and casually takes a cookie off of the table, her motions taunting my sister as her eyes and smug smile goad me into battle.

It’s instinctual, and I can’t help it. “Shut up, Chloe.”

I instantly regret it when Chloe follows Mom toward the dining room. “Eva, your son told me to shut up for no reason!” She turns and flashes me a sinister, toothy grin. It’s the type of perfect grin that you hate so much because it never needed braces to be that straight. The type of grin that’s about to get you in trouble.

“I was just telling him how much his shirt suits him…”

Frustration doesn’t even describe what boils under my skin. Instead of sounding powerful and manly, my voice comes out like a whine. “Mom, don’t listen to her, she’s – ” I see Britney climbing a chair to reach the cookies, and my attention is diverted. “Britney, no!” I grab her and hoist her under my arm. She squeals and twists in my grasp. The doorbell rings, and I’m sidetracked for a nanosecond. It’s enough for Britney to weasel out of my hold, snatch the damn cookie off of the table, and dash upstairs. I let her go, defeated.

“Epic fail, Jack.” Chloe takes a bite of her cookie and struts out of the room.

“Your face is an epic fail,” I call after her. I’m pretty proud of my comeback. Mom, however, is not.

“
Jack
!” Mom appears in the doorway with her frown of disapproval. I roll my eyes and huff. I’m always caught after the fact, once I’ve retaliated. Mom and Jim never hear the things they say to me.

She comes to me and straightens my collar. “Jack, you promised me you’d get along with the girls tonight,” she murmurs.

I want to protest that Chloe provoked me as usual, but the words fall flat on my tongue. I hate disappointing my mom. Instead, I groan, “Yeah, I know.”

Mom looks around in a sudden panic. “Where’s Britney?”

I hang my head. “Upstairs. She got away.”

She smiles gently at me instead of scolding. “Well, at least she’s not causing chaos under my feet.” She stabs her pointer finger against my chest. “Be nice to the girls. You’re in charge out here, so we’re counting on you to set the example. Control that temper.”

I sigh. “I know, I get it.” In my head, I grumble,
I’ve had pretty good control of my anger for two years now, thank you very much.

“Honey, why so much gel here?” She pulls at a strand of my hair, and I jerk back.

“Mom!” She knows I hate it when people touch my hair. Now I have to find the closest mirror and fix it.

“Sorry, my goodness!” She shakes her head and turns away. “His father through and through,” she mutters under her breath, as if I can’t hear her.

I hate when she says that. “What was that?”

“I said your Aunt Darla and your cousin Leroy just got here. Come say hello,” she huffs.

I smack a hand over my eyes. “Oh, brother.” I’d forgotten all about the additional cast of characters that Christmas Eve brings.

L
eroy enters the room, the very caricature of a teenage nerd you’d see on TV. He is wearing large glasses and has a book tucked under his arm. His pants are high enough that his ankles show, and he is wearing a sweater vest
and
a tie. His book is titled, “If Your Brain Could Talk…And It Does!” He is smiling and is too happy to see me.

“Hey there, first cousin! Long time no see!” He greets me with a slap to the shoulder.

“I saw you at the wedding, Leroy. That was two months ago,” I remind him patiently. I have to be patient with Leroy. Something small inside of me makes me do it, maybe a shred of sympathy for how unabashedly clueless my cousin could be to his own social awkwardness.

Plus, I need him tonight. He’s my only real ally against the girls, no question about it. He’s not much of an ally in this department; it’s kind of like pulling in a first-year kicker when you need a senior quarterback, but he’s still on the same team. It’s him and me versus the Unholy Trinity – Chloe, Claudia, and Evil Britney, the girl she turns into when the twins are present.

Leroy snorts with laughter. “Well, two months can be a long time if you’re a tadpole. Did you know that it takes anywhere from three days to three weeks for a tadpole to break free into water after it leaves its egg? Two months would be an eternity!”

And so it begins….Leroy will never lose his penchant for spitting out the wildest facts about anything and everything. He’s got something to say about all topics, whether or not they actually make sense in the moment. Now and then he shares some pretty cool stuff, but usually it’s just weird, random crap.

“Oh my God, look at this place! Eva, it’s so fabulous in here!” Leroy’s mom, Aunt Darla, comes floating in. She is dressed in one of her trendy, near-teenager outfits. My mom’s sister is four years younger and even younger at heart, and that’s putting it nicely. She’s that woman who is always making references to things only kids talk about and who yawns dramatically at adult conversations. What’s weirder is she couldn’t be any less like her own son. He acts like he’s forty, and she still thinks she’s seventeen. She’s divorced, too, but judging by her carefree attitude, something tells me it was her decision. Tonight she is awed and distracted by the bright lights and shiny colors of our spruced-up house.

“Jack!” She’s also way too excited to see me, smiling from ear to ear as she throws her arms around me.

“Hi Aunt Darla,” I reply meekly. She hugs too tight and kisses my cheek, and I can feel an inch of lip gloss left behind.

“How is my handsome nephew? You’re getting so tall! You’re bigger than me!” She says this every year. “So sorry about your break-up with Katrina; she was such a sweet thing. Any new girlfriends yet, or are you still on the market? How’s school? What is with all the hair gel?”

I feel my face flush as she inspects me and my personal life, only pulling back when she tries to fuss with my hair. That’s one thing I refuse to tolerate.

“Um, school’s okay.” I try to wipe off the gloss without her noticing. “Katrina’s whatever.” I’d tell Darla that my mean-girl step-sisters are the real reason my ex and I broke up, but she’s running like a motor.

“That’s so unfortunate, honey. She was lovely at the wedding; such a beautiful dress. What happened? Come, Aunt Darla wants to hear all about it!”
And she’s off
! She takes my hand and walks me through the room. “Where are the twins? Did you get your senior license yet? Leroy has been practicing for his driver’s test for two weeks now!” She gently rubs his shoulder. “We go out to the mall together, and he drives to the movie theatre – we saw that new Caz Farrell movie together, did you see it?”

“No, I didn’t.” My reply is a murmur as I peer at my hair in the closest mirror. It’s fine, and so is my amount of hair gel.

Leroy rolls his eyes. “I think my mom is infatuated with Caz Farrell.” When I squint at him, he mumbles, “Don’t get me started.”

Just as Darla is calming, the twins emerge from the kitchen, side by side, and Darla bubbles over again when she sees them.

Claudia, the only-slightly-nicer-if-you’re-really-paying-attention twin, lights up and gives Darla a big hug. Claudia is Darla’s number one fan. Chloe, however, is not as interested. She has a dirty look for my aunt, as usual, and looks her up and down. I’ve seen that look before at school, especially when I’m talking to a girl and Chloe doesn’t approve. It gets under my skin then, and it really gets under my skin now.

Stay cool. Ignore her
, I tell myself.

Darla sings, “Hey, girlfriend! What’s happening? Look at you – is that top from Forever 21? I almost bought it the other day, but I didn’t like how it made my shoulders look…”

“Oh my God, yes it is!” Claudia sings out. “You always have the best taste!”

Aunt Darla beams, idolized by someone in the room. “Just wait ‘til you see your gift, girl!”

Chloe hisses, “You still shop at Forever 21? Isn’t that, like, a teenager store?”

Darla, ever the optimist, shrugs good-naturedly. “You know what they say: you’re only as old as you feel!”

Chloe’s eyes burn with contempt. “Don’t they also say act your age?”

I’m about to step in and save my innocent aunt when she simply waves the demonic cat off and fusses over Claudia some more. This makes Chloe turn scarlet with anger or embarrassment, I’m not sure which. All I know is that I don’t have to do anything about it.

Suddenly, Brenton comes flailing down the stairs, his eyes alight.

“Is she here?” His head whips around in all directions, and he darts from doorway to doorway. “I thought I heard the doorbell ring. Is she here?”

I cast him the
‘you’re crazy’
look he deserves. “What is wrong with you?”

Brenton grabs me by the wrists. “Jack, listen to me: Their cousin, the most amazing and talented actress in the history of acting, is coming to dinner. To our house. OUR house, Jack!”

I almost laugh out loud. “What cousin?”

Chloe and Claudia immediately appear, Darla-free, and scowling. “He means our cousin, Cher. You know, Cherie Belle?” Chloe replies.