Brooks
was an antisocial creature by nature. He had grown up an only child
and chose friends very carefully. Jeanetta had told him he was born
about thirty years too late, given his interest in the music and
authors from decades gone by. Indeed, he reasoned, she must be right,
since most of his heroes had died well before his birth. His newfound
love for Jeanetta had moved him, however, to make a New Year’s
resolution to be more sociable: namely, to meet her large extended
family. Brooks dreaded the idea from the very first moment he thought
of it, and Jeanetta was wary, despite her relief that he had finally
agreed. Jeanetta had always tried to be understanding of his
feelings, though she did take the brunt of her family's harassment
over his refusal to meet them.
Jeanetta had the type of family most only children would dream of. The cousins had all grown up together, raised in part by a loving but heavy handed matriarch, her grandmother. The grandmother had passed on well before Brooks came into Jeanetta’s life, and her Aunt Mae, the eldest living child of that generation, had been trying in vain to fill her shoes. This particular New Year, Aunt Mae was hosting a family gathering at the family‘s favorite buffet. Jeanetta and her son, of course, were required to attend, and Brooks had decided in keeping with his resolution, to join them.
The day started off well enough, Brooks thought, with the usual pleasantries exchanged by total strangers on neutral territory. “Well, well, he does exist after all.” Aunt Mae commented in the direction of Jeanetta’s father as she shook Brooks’ hand.
“If you’d listen half the time,” Jeanetta’s father countered, “I told you I’d already met the man a couple of times. What’s wrong with someone who just doesn’t like crowds?”
Aunt Mae slapped him. “This isn’t a crowd. This is family.”
Jeanetta’s father laughed. “You look up ‘crowd‘ in the dictionary, woman. There‘s a picture of this family; I‘ve seen it.”
Aunt Mae ignored him. “Well, come on in here, Brooks, Jeanetta, sweetie. Find a chair, grab a plate, get it while it’s hot.” The buffet table had been loaded down with all the delicacies of northeastern Pennsylvania, eggs and bacon, ham and sausage, biscuits and creamed chipped beef, and an array of Danishes and donuts. To Brooks, the place looked like a coronary waiting to happen. Remembering his resolution, he followed Jeanetta and filled his plate, then took his seat next to her amongst the sprawling family at the long table across the back of the restaurant.
He glanced doubtfully at Jeanetta as she introduced each Aunt and Uncle in turn. There were four uncles in the family, only three of which were in attendance, and three aunts. Three cousins and their significant others had graced the family that day. Jeanetta’s brother Satch and his girlfriend Andrea sat across from them. Brooks eyed Satch for a moment. In a literary sense, he decided, Satch was his arch enemy. They got along best when they didn’t speak to each other. The last time they had spoken, Brooks had ended up mortifying Jeanetta with his comment.
Jeanetta had left her husband a few weeks before and was staying at her sister's house. Brooks lay dozing on the couch between Jeanetta's legs, his head resting gently on her chest. He wasn't entirely awake, so he was less than thrilled to see Satch barge in and start chatting. Brooks had to say: the big man liked to talk. It just so happened that this particular conversation was Satch's expression of his distaste for the budding relationship between Jeannetta and Brooks.
"I know what you two have been up to, and you don't have to bother lying." Satch had said. "Everybody knows."
Brooks had had about enough of Satch's high opinions of himself and his low opinions of Jeanetta. He turned to the big man and looked him square in the eye. "We've made no secret of it. You're right, I'm fucking her, and you know what, she likes it! So fuck you and the horse you rode in on."
Jeanetta had turned a deep beet red and ran for her bedroom. Brooks chased after her, only to be rewarded with a hard slap on his arm. "Why would you say such a thing to my brother? My brother!? Of all people..."
"He asked for it." Brooks had said. "I didn't say anything that wasn't true," he had added with a sly grin. He'd leaned forward and kissed her tenderly, and she seemed to feel better. They had returned to the living room just long enough to say goodnight.
Oh, well, they could laugh about it now. With a heavy sigh, Brooks picked up his fork and knife and tried to efficiently slice the kielbasa on his plate. It had apparently been in the warmer a while, and the skin on the outside had toughened to the point where cutting it with a simple table knife proved to be an adventure. He stabbed it with his fork and prepared to slice it. It slipped from his fork at the slightest pressure from the knife and went sailing off his plate, through the air, to the table behind Satch, landing with a clank against a pair of coffee mugs in front of the people at the table.
Satch, mouth full of food, began to laugh heartily. Jeanetta covered her eyes as the gentleman at the next table kindly wrapped it in a napkin and passed it to Andrea, who returned it to Brooks. "Indeed," Brooks called over Satch's head, "Thank you, sir. Greasy little sucker slipped away from me." The man nodded and chuckled.
Brooks looked nervously at Jeanetta. She was beet red, but Satch’s continued laughter quickly returned her to her usual jovial disposition. Brooks sighed, hoping that would be the last of his blunders. It’s not that he was unaccustomed to fine dining; in fact, he enjoyed a good time out. He just preferred not to be amongst so many people who were no longer strangers.
Brooks gritted his teeth against the tough bacon he picked up next. He reached for his mug, but it was empty. He politely asked Satch to pass him the coffee pot that sat on that side of the table. Satch, much to Brooks’ surprise, obliged, and reached for the pot. In the process, he knocked over Andrea’s water glass, which smashed as it hit the table, sending ten or so ounces of crystal clear water down into her lap.
It was Satch’s turn to turn beet red as he grabbed a few napkins and desperately attempted to soak up the water from his girlfriend’s thighs. Brooks laughed heartily, earning him a disapproving glance from Satch. He felt Jeanetta's hand squeeze his thigh and he looked at her. She covered her mouth with her napkin as she giggled, her blue-gray eyes twinkling.
Aunt Mae’s attention had been snagged by the smashing glass, and she hurried to their end of the table to see to her followers. “What’s going on here?” she demanded.
Satch groaned. “Oh, Brooks made me dump Andrea’s water on her.”
Brooks hung his jaw in offense. “I did not. I merely asked him to pass the coffee!”
Aunt Mae leaned over. “Andrea, are you alright, dear?” Andrea nodded. “Satch, be more careful next time.” she chided. No mention of Satch’s attempt to blame his clumsiness on Brooks. Brooks grinned at him. Satch sat down in a huff and continued his breakfast.
Aunt Mae made her way up to the buffet table and filled a second plate with biscuits and creamed chipped beef. Her slick-soled shoe was no protection against the onslaught of the mighty danish that had settled on the floor just past the biscuits. She stepped on it in her hurry to return to the table.
Brooks caught it out of the corner of his eye, and watched in what seemed like slow motion. He stood, but there was nothing he could do. Aunt Mae's right foot slid on the danish and she skidded to her butt on the floor, the full plate of biscuits and creamed chipped beef flying through the air behind her.
Jeanetta's father was in line at the buffet waiting for more kielbasa to be brought from the kitchen. He turned as he saw Aunt Mae hit the floor and reached out to catch her plate. It landed quite miraculously in his hand, but Jeanetta's son Gavin had chosen that very moment to hug his grandfather's legs. Jeanetta's father lost his balance and turned himself so as not to fall on the boy. Instead, he fell on Aunt Mae, and the plate again went flying.
A waitress who'd been chatting with a guest at the door turned suddenly and walked toward Satch to refill his coffee pot. Brooks wanted to shout, but nothing escaped his lips. The gooey biscuits smashed directly into the poor girl's hair on impact. The china plate stopped instantly and dropped to the floor, bouncing off the toe of the girl's patent leather shoe. It shattered against the nearby table leg, sending shards of cream covered china bursting up from the carpet like a Roman candle.
At the sound of the crash, the restaurant went dead silent. Dozens of people looked toward the sound, directly at Brooks, who was the only one still standing. Brooks' face reddened as he fought his chuckle. He was relieved when Jeanetta's father burst out in a fit of laughter. The uncles joined in, followed by the aunts, and Jeanetta and Satch, until the whole restaurant was laughing heartily. Only then did Brooks feel safe enough to join in.
As they drove home an hour later, Jeanetta smiled over at him from the passenger seat. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”
He grinned. “No, Scrumptious, it wasn’t bad at all.” But that’s why I’m antisocial, he added silently with a chuckle.
Jeanetta had the type of family most only children would dream of. The cousins had all grown up together, raised in part by a loving but heavy handed matriarch, her grandmother. The grandmother had passed on well before Brooks came into Jeanetta’s life, and her Aunt Mae, the eldest living child of that generation, had been trying in vain to fill her shoes. This particular New Year, Aunt Mae was hosting a family gathering at the family‘s favorite buffet. Jeanetta and her son, of course, were required to attend, and Brooks had decided in keeping with his resolution, to join them.
The day started off well enough, Brooks thought, with the usual pleasantries exchanged by total strangers on neutral territory. “Well, well, he does exist after all.” Aunt Mae commented in the direction of Jeanetta’s father as she shook Brooks’ hand.
“If you’d listen half the time,” Jeanetta’s father countered, “I told you I’d already met the man a couple of times. What’s wrong with someone who just doesn’t like crowds?”
Aunt Mae slapped him. “This isn’t a crowd. This is family.”
Jeanetta’s father laughed. “You look up ‘crowd‘ in the dictionary, woman. There‘s a picture of this family; I‘ve seen it.”
Aunt Mae ignored him. “Well, come on in here, Brooks, Jeanetta, sweetie. Find a chair, grab a plate, get it while it’s hot.” The buffet table had been loaded down with all the delicacies of northeastern Pennsylvania, eggs and bacon, ham and sausage, biscuits and creamed chipped beef, and an array of Danishes and donuts. To Brooks, the place looked like a coronary waiting to happen. Remembering his resolution, he followed Jeanetta and filled his plate, then took his seat next to her amongst the sprawling family at the long table across the back of the restaurant.
He glanced doubtfully at Jeanetta as she introduced each Aunt and Uncle in turn. There were four uncles in the family, only three of which were in attendance, and three aunts. Three cousins and their significant others had graced the family that day. Jeanetta’s brother Satch and his girlfriend Andrea sat across from them. Brooks eyed Satch for a moment. In a literary sense, he decided, Satch was his arch enemy. They got along best when they didn’t speak to each other. The last time they had spoken, Brooks had ended up mortifying Jeanetta with his comment.
Jeanetta had left her husband a few weeks before and was staying at her sister's house. Brooks lay dozing on the couch between Jeanetta's legs, his head resting gently on her chest. He wasn't entirely awake, so he was less than thrilled to see Satch barge in and start chatting. Brooks had to say: the big man liked to talk. It just so happened that this particular conversation was Satch's expression of his distaste for the budding relationship between Jeannetta and Brooks.
"I know what you two have been up to, and you don't have to bother lying." Satch had said. "Everybody knows."
Brooks had had about enough of Satch's high opinions of himself and his low opinions of Jeanetta. He turned to the big man and looked him square in the eye. "We've made no secret of it. You're right, I'm fucking her, and you know what, she likes it! So fuck you and the horse you rode in on."
Jeanetta had turned a deep beet red and ran for her bedroom. Brooks chased after her, only to be rewarded with a hard slap on his arm. "Why would you say such a thing to my brother? My brother!? Of all people..."
"He asked for it." Brooks had said. "I didn't say anything that wasn't true," he had added with a sly grin. He'd leaned forward and kissed her tenderly, and she seemed to feel better. They had returned to the living room just long enough to say goodnight.
Oh, well, they could laugh about it now. With a heavy sigh, Brooks picked up his fork and knife and tried to efficiently slice the kielbasa on his plate. It had apparently been in the warmer a while, and the skin on the outside had toughened to the point where cutting it with a simple table knife proved to be an adventure. He stabbed it with his fork and prepared to slice it. It slipped from his fork at the slightest pressure from the knife and went sailing off his plate, through the air, to the table behind Satch, landing with a clank against a pair of coffee mugs in front of the people at the table.
Satch, mouth full of food, began to laugh heartily. Jeanetta covered her eyes as the gentleman at the next table kindly wrapped it in a napkin and passed it to Andrea, who returned it to Brooks. "Indeed," Brooks called over Satch's head, "Thank you, sir. Greasy little sucker slipped away from me." The man nodded and chuckled.
Brooks looked nervously at Jeanetta. She was beet red, but Satch’s continued laughter quickly returned her to her usual jovial disposition. Brooks sighed, hoping that would be the last of his blunders. It’s not that he was unaccustomed to fine dining; in fact, he enjoyed a good time out. He just preferred not to be amongst so many people who were no longer strangers.
Brooks gritted his teeth against the tough bacon he picked up next. He reached for his mug, but it was empty. He politely asked Satch to pass him the coffee pot that sat on that side of the table. Satch, much to Brooks’ surprise, obliged, and reached for the pot. In the process, he knocked over Andrea’s water glass, which smashed as it hit the table, sending ten or so ounces of crystal clear water down into her lap.
It was Satch’s turn to turn beet red as he grabbed a few napkins and desperately attempted to soak up the water from his girlfriend’s thighs. Brooks laughed heartily, earning him a disapproving glance from Satch. He felt Jeanetta's hand squeeze his thigh and he looked at her. She covered her mouth with her napkin as she giggled, her blue-gray eyes twinkling.
Aunt Mae’s attention had been snagged by the smashing glass, and she hurried to their end of the table to see to her followers. “What’s going on here?” she demanded.
Satch groaned. “Oh, Brooks made me dump Andrea’s water on her.”
Brooks hung his jaw in offense. “I did not. I merely asked him to pass the coffee!”
Aunt Mae leaned over. “Andrea, are you alright, dear?” Andrea nodded. “Satch, be more careful next time.” she chided. No mention of Satch’s attempt to blame his clumsiness on Brooks. Brooks grinned at him. Satch sat down in a huff and continued his breakfast.
Aunt Mae made her way up to the buffet table and filled a second plate with biscuits and creamed chipped beef. Her slick-soled shoe was no protection against the onslaught of the mighty danish that had settled on the floor just past the biscuits. She stepped on it in her hurry to return to the table.
Brooks caught it out of the corner of his eye, and watched in what seemed like slow motion. He stood, but there was nothing he could do. Aunt Mae's right foot slid on the danish and she skidded to her butt on the floor, the full plate of biscuits and creamed chipped beef flying through the air behind her.
Jeanetta's father was in line at the buffet waiting for more kielbasa to be brought from the kitchen. He turned as he saw Aunt Mae hit the floor and reached out to catch her plate. It landed quite miraculously in his hand, but Jeanetta's son Gavin had chosen that very moment to hug his grandfather's legs. Jeanetta's father lost his balance and turned himself so as not to fall on the boy. Instead, he fell on Aunt Mae, and the plate again went flying.
A waitress who'd been chatting with a guest at the door turned suddenly and walked toward Satch to refill his coffee pot. Brooks wanted to shout, but nothing escaped his lips. The gooey biscuits smashed directly into the poor girl's hair on impact. The china plate stopped instantly and dropped to the floor, bouncing off the toe of the girl's patent leather shoe. It shattered against the nearby table leg, sending shards of cream covered china bursting up from the carpet like a Roman candle.
At the sound of the crash, the restaurant went dead silent. Dozens of people looked toward the sound, directly at Brooks, who was the only one still standing. Brooks' face reddened as he fought his chuckle. He was relieved when Jeanetta's father burst out in a fit of laughter. The uncles joined in, followed by the aunts, and Jeanetta and Satch, until the whole restaurant was laughing heartily. Only then did Brooks feel safe enough to join in.
As they drove home an hour later, Jeanetta smiled over at him from the passenger seat. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”
He grinned. “No, Scrumptious, it wasn’t bad at all.” But that’s why I’m antisocial, he added silently with a chuckle.