Thanksgiving 2014: The Ambush

I didn't get much sleep last night, and I'm still a bit out of it. I figure the only way to finally start writing about some messed up stuff is to be in this state of mind. So... it’s been a month since the events of Thanksgiving. I’ve been trying really hard to find a way to write about it in a way that can explain everything, and I think I finally found a format. I’ll write about this in three parts. The first what actually happened on Thanksgiving, beginning with the visit to my dad Alan’s house.

So I went over to Alan’s house after spending the night at Brooklyn Mike’s. He had me go to the store to buy him some groceries, which I was happy to do. I could clearly see that his eyesight was getting worse and it felt kinda good buying groceries for the guy. Eventually, his church friends who help him out came over and we all had Thanksgiving dinner. During the meal, there was an uneasy tension in the room. I couldn’t explain it, and it felt weird that the pastor was there asking me questions about how I was doing in Smalltown and what my plans for the future was. Finally, he started speaking for real:

“I’m very happy that you have come because I wanted to talk to you. We have been taking care of your father for years and we love him. The church loves him. But we always ask the question, ‘Where are his children?!’ Why are his children not around?!”

Fucking hell. A setup. This self-righteous mother fucker went on for a few minutes, talking about how I have to do what is right and move back to Brooklyn to take care of Alan. Hundreds of miles I drove to have Thanksgiving dinner, and this is what I get? Okay. That was at Alan’s. Let’s move onto my mom Anita.

After the lecture at Alan’s, I drove over to Anita’s place for my second Thanksgiving dinner. Anita had been badgering me to quickly come upstairs and I couldn’t figure out why. When I walked in, the girl who visited us for Thanksgiving back in 2012 was there along with her family. I sat down and Anita started in:

“Now I’ve been trying to get you two together for a couple of years now. Me and her father are very close, and we would like you two to get close also! She is a nurse, and is also going to school for her Masters. And my son, he’s a nice guy. You know, I know him very well. He’s in real estate and he’s also going to school for his Masters. He’s a very nice young man. You know, he’ll get mad and stomp off, but then come back a few minutes later and be very kind!”

Fucking hell. Another setup. Before I made the trip, I warned Anita not to do this. I told her that I was there to have Thanksgiving dinner with family and that’s all. Watching her carry on like an imbecile, even to the point of imitating me getting into an argument, was just pathetic… and I thought it beneath the kind of person I thought she was. The poor girl’s father was sitting there smiling at me saying, “Look at his face!” This was my Thanksgiving. Hundreds of miles to be pointed at and have my patience tested by the egos of two desperate idiots. Before I can explain my reaction to these two maddening events, I’ll have to explain parts of my past that I’m normally not comfortable talking about. But I guess I’ll have to if I’m gonna keep this journal honest.