Revelation

The growling of an engine pulled me out of my book, and I let out a groan. They were here. Every other person I've ever spoken to has always had such a positive perspective on Thanksgiving, but for my family, the dinner table always turned into a battlefield. Whether it's Uncle Sven pointing out to my mother what a horrible cook she was or Grandpa Afi listing off all the things my father should have done differently while raising us, something always caused a feud, and I wanted no part of it, especially this year. 

 "Clarissa!" My mom shouted up the stairs. 

"What??" I shouted back. I couldn't handle this-- not today. There would be too many questions, too much prying, too many opportunities for me to let something slip. Aunt Tara could talk me into spilling anything, and I knew that today would be no different.

"The family is here, and you need to come down to greet them. Now." 

I cringed and marked my page, knowing that I'd better hurry down. Her temper inflated when accompanied with stress, so today was most definitely not the day to test my boundaries. 

The afternoon started out just as any other Thanksgiving. Aunt Jen walked in followed by her swarm of children who ran underfoot like a bunch of puppies, Uncle Curtis chasing them around like a bear. They were followed by Amma and Afi, then Sven and Tara, and finally Poppa and Mimsy. Within minutes, immense tension had spread throughout the entire house. Afi had cornered my father and was running his mouth about my brother Conner's haircut; three of my cousins had gotten into a fight that rendered one of them with a bloody nose; and Tara was already eyeing my as though she could tell that I had something to hide. I groaned, and tried to slip away, praying that no one would notice. My attempts were in vain, however, for Aunt Tara had quickly made her way across the room, grabbing my arm before I could make my escape. 

"Hello, my dear Clarissa!" she said, mischief twinkling in her eyes. "I asked your mother, and she switched our place cards so we could sit together at dinner. Isn't that wonderful?"

My breath caught, and I smiled weakly. I was completely and utterly screwed.

After two long, torture-infused hours had gone by, it was time to eat. I shuffled to the table indignantly, trying to block out the shouts of my cousins, the bickering of my father and Afi, and the gossiping of my Aunts. My god, I did not sign up for this. As soon as I sat down, Aunt Tara latched on to me like a tick. Questions began to flood out of her, and I couldn't shut her up. She ripped information out of my about everything: school, lacrosse, my job. As long as she neglected to ask about Flynn, I'd be okay. 

"So how about this boyfriend your mother was telling me about?" 

Of course. As if there were any possibility I could make it out unscathed.

"What about him?" I asked, meticulously spreading butter on my roll and doing my best to avoid eye contact.

"Oh, I don't know. Give me the details. How long have you been together? What's he like? ... How far have you gotten with him?" She asked with an impish smile. I choked mid bite. 

"Wait.. Wait, what?" I said, spluttering.

"You heard me."

"I.. I.. Um, well, we have been together for 11 months. He's kind, sweet, understanding, funny, loves kids-- We both love kids, luckily.." I stopped myself. Why had I added that? Stupid, stupid stupid. Loving kids and being ready for them are entirely different things.

"Kids, eh? And what about my last question?" She then froze, staring at me. "Wait, wait, wait, Clarissa. Luckily? Are you implying.." My eyes drifted down to my stomach, and when I glanced back up, my cheeks reddening and tears forming as our eyes met. A look of shock spread over her face, and she opened her mouth wide to speak.

Just then, my 5-year-old cousin, Maddox, knocked over his glass of milk along with his brother's in a fit of rage over god knows what, and the table was quickly flooded. Thank the Lord. I seized the opportunity and hopped up, sprinting to the kitchen to grab some paper towels. Did she know? Oh god, of course she knew. Maybe if I had anything resembling a poker face.. What if she let it slip? Was she really that cruel? I wasn't ready for the family to know-- not yet. 

I spotted Tara whispering with my mom when I came back, and they stopped abruptly and glanced at me simultaneously. My steps slowed, and I handed the paper towels to my mother cautiously. I looked up and all eyes were on me. They knew.