Knitting Under the Influence

“No,” Sari said. “Not like that. Look at Lucy. Look at her, or I’ll turn the TV off.”

“Oh, leave him alone!” her mother said from the doorway, behind Lucy's back. Startled, Lucy dropped her hand as Eloise Hill came forward. “You know how I feel about this, Sari.” She turned to Lucy. “Sari likes to get Charlie all worked up.”

“He should know how to greet people,” Sari said.

“Stop it,” her mother said. “I want you to stop it now. It's not going to be like this, not this time. It's Thanksgiving. We are not going to ruin it by fighting.”

“Who's fighting?” Sari said. “I’m just trying to help him.”

“You're not trying to help him, you're trying to change him. Let him be himself. He is what he is. Why can't you accept that?”

“Because he could be better than this,” Sari said. “I’ve seen so many kids turn around, Mom. Adults, too. What Ellen does is amazing-”

Her mother made a noise of disgust. “Here we go again, with the amazing Ellen.”

“Please let me take him to see her. Please. I’m begging you.”

“He doesn't like to leave the house. It makes him nervous.”

“That's a reason to get him out more. Take him to do fun things, so he-”

“There was a time,” her mother said, “when you begged me to keep him at home all day long. When you said he shouldn't have to go to school, that he was better off at home, that you were better off with him at home. Or don't you remember?”

“I remember,” Sari said. “I was just a kid.”

“You said the other students were mean to him at school, even violent sometimes, and he needed to be somewhere safe. You begged me to send him to private school-remember? And when I said we couldn't afford it, you said, ‘Can't we just keep him at home then?’”

“I didn't know anything,” Sari said. “I know more now.”

“We had to send him to school then,” her mother said. “It was the law. But in a way you were right. He's always been happiest at home. I mean, look at him now. He's completely in the moment, just happy to be here.”

“That's because he doesn't know any better. You haven't let him see what else is out there, what he might be capable of. He could have friends, a job, interests outside of sitting on his ass watching movies-”

“Watch your language,” Sari's mother said, crossing her arms tightly over her chest. “This is who Charlie is. And if you can't accept him the way he is, if all you can do is judge him without sympathy or kindness, then you have no right to sit there and hold his hand and claim that you love him.”

“Oh, for God's sake!” Sari flung her hand out. “Loving someone doesn't mean you leave him alone-loving someone means you want to make things better for him. It means you don't just leave him with a stack of Balance Bars and the TV turned on all day long because that's what's easy for you.”

“Oh, so now I’m a neglectful mother?” Sari's mother said. Her voice had gotten very high. “You come waltzing in here a couple times a year and accuse me of being some sort of ogre, but you know nothing about our lives. Just because you think Charlie's not a good enough brother for you-”

“Do you really think that's what I’m saying?”

“Let me tell you something: your brother is a kinder, gentler, far more spiritual being than you'll ever be-”

“He watches movies and game shows all day long. How is that spiritual?”

“I’m through discussing this with you,” her mother said with a little stamp of her well-shod foot. “I’ll simply say this: if you want to stay a minute longer in this house, then you'll treat its occupants with respect. If you can't do that, then-much as it pains me-I’m going to have to ask you to leave. I will not let you ruin another family holiday.” She turned to Lucy. “Lucy, you, of course, are welcome in my house, now and at any time. I hope you'll stay, no matter what.“

“Thanks,” Lucy said with a panicked look at Sari.

“It's okay,” Sari said. “I’ll behave. There's no point to any of this, anyway.”

“And we'll have a nice, civilized dinner together?” her mother said.

“You go on in and set up, Mrs. Hill,” Lucy said. “We'll be right there.”

“But no more fighting,” Sari's mother said. “It's just too hard on us all.”

“Of course not,” Lucy said. “Don't you worry.”

Eloise Hill left the room. For a minute or two, the three adults in the room silently watched planets exploding on the television screen. Then Sari looked at Lucy. “You see?” she said.

Lucy sat down and put both her arms around Sari's shoulders. “We'll just get through dinner and then go.” She glanced at Charlie. His lips were moving in sync to the movie's dialogue. She said quietly, “Poor guy.”

“Yeah,” Sari said. “I used to fantasize about grabbing him and making a run for the door. Not really doable, though.”

“Probably not, given your relative sizes,” Lucy said. “She doesn't really just let him watch TV all day, does she?”

“I don't know,” Sari said. “I honestly don't know. But every time I come to visit, this is where I find him. He used to notice me more, used to actually seem glad I was here. Now it barely registers. And the worst part-I mean it's all the worst part-but the worst part is someday she'll die and then what? It'll be too late. He won't have any skills to deal with the world, even if he wants to.” Her voice dropped to almost nothing. “She won't die soon enough for me to help him.”

There was a pause. Then, “I could kill her now, if it would help,” Lucy said.

Sari leaned against her. “That's why I love you-you always know the right thing to say.” She rested her head on Lucy's shoulder, and they sat like that until Sari's mother called them all in for dinner.

III

Kathleen wore the necklace Kevin had given her, and his father spotted it immediately. “Tiffany's?” he said, gesturing to her neck, after giving her a paternal kiss on the cheek.

She nodded. “From your son.”

“Tell him to get you diamonds next time,” he said with a wink. “A pretty girl like you should wear diamonds. Kevin should know that already, but he's always been a slow learner.”

Kathleen looked at Kevin, who smiled at her as if his father had just said something nice.

They sat down to eat soon after she arrived. First they had pumpkin soup, fragrant with cinnamon and cloves, then roast turkey with three different kinds of stuffing steaming in separate crystal bowls, mashed potatoes golden with butter and garlic, warm rolls and cranberry sauce and green beans, all of which was followed by the traditional desserts-pecan pie, pumpkin pie, and chocolate cake-and hot fresh coffee. The food was brought to the table by servants wearing black and white and cooked by the Porters’ aging resident chef, a French woman named Marguerite who came out at the end of the meal to receive their thanks and congratulations. Caro blew her a kiss. Jackson thumped her on the back. Marguerite staggered back to the kitchen, looking exhausted but triumphant.

Obscene amounts of food were left over, both because there had been way too much to begin with, and also because the women of the family-the sisters-in-law and Caro-had barely eaten anything. None of them had touched any of the stuffing, let alone all three kinds. Kathleen, who had eaten six eggs for breakfast, still managed to put away ten times as much food as any of the other women.

After dessert had been cleared, Jackson uttered a quiet “Ahem.” Every face immediately turned to him. “If the women will excuse us, I do have a couple of small business matters to go over with the men.” He held up his hand as if to forestall objections, even though there weren't any. “I know, I know, its a holiday. But it's not often I get a chance to sit down with all three of my boys, and I’d like to take advantage of this time together to address a few important items that have come up recently.” Kathleen wondered if anyone was going to point out that he saw all three of his sons at the office every day. But:

“Of course,” one of the sisters-in-law said immediately.