Page 51 of War on Christmas

Rule #2: Once the date is done, it’s done.Bam!

Rule #3: No meeting each other’s families.Kablooey!

Because it’s Sunday evening, and we’re crowded around my parents’ dining room table, Jeremy seated to my right wearing Thad’sThe Empire Strikes BackT-shirt. And since the Good Twin doesnothave Jeremy’s Thor-like physique, the T-shirt looks in danger of ripping every time Jeremy lifts a forkful of my mom’s spaghetti to his mouth, a phenomenon that has kept me staring hopefully at his biceps throughout dinner. So far, the cotton blend is holding up.

Which is more than I can say for Bethany.

Drew is, once again, having a work crisis. Which means that instead of attending our family dinner, he’s now at the office. Then Marcy, the shop’s weekend employee, called in sick and left Bethany scrambling to find a replacement. Add in Abi’s raging teenage angst, which is directed entirely at her mother, and Bethany is barely hanging on. And for Bethany, “barely hanging on” mostly consists of her being more and more positive, trying toforcethe ugly away through sheer will. Or, as I like to think of it, willful ignorance.

It doesn’t help that my mom invited Jeremy’s mother over for dinner. Janet has been her typical, sweet self, quietly observing the antics of my much bigger, much louder family. She smiles into her napkin when Aiden and August start tossing cherry tomatoes at each other over Bethany’s head, challenging each other to catch them in their mouths, but I don’t detect any judgment. Just amusement. Still, I can tell that the “audience”—even a small one—is adding to Bethany’s stress.

“Knock itoff,” Bethany hisses, reaching out to snatch a tomato midair. Then she turns to Janet with a grimace. “Sorry. Their dad has been spending a lot of extra time at work lately, and I think they’re acting—”

A slice of cucumber hits her in the face. I look down at Andy, who’s sitting to my left, and he has his little hands clapped over his mouth in horror.

“Sorry, Mama,” he says. “I was trying to play the game that Aiden—”

“Look at what you’re teaching your brother,” Bethany snaps at her two older sons, her cheeks flushed. “You werenotraised to—”

Which is interrupted, of course, with a rousing chorus of “Youalwaysblame us for whatAndydoes!” and “Just ’cause he’s yourfavorite.” and “So unfair.”

“Stop it,” my dad orders in his deep, stern voice, and I risk a look down the table at Thad, who’s staring way too hard at his salad, trying not to laugh. “Listen to your mother. All of you.”

“You know,” I keep my voice low as I lean toward Jeremy. “The only time I heard that voice growing up was when I ended up in the principal’s office. Because ofyou.”

His mouth twists into a half smile, and his hand squeezes my knee. “I had to do yard work,” he whispers back.

“So!” Bethany claps her hands.All done! Moving on!“I would love a slice of that delicious-looking garlic bread. Abi, would you—”

“I’m sorry,” Abi snaps, crossing her arms over her chest. “I only take requests bytext. And since you’ve grounded me from my phone…”

I love Abi. Not only is she bright and funny and creative, but she’s a good big sister, caring and sweet, especially to Andy. But right now…that girl ispushingit. Thad looks at me, blue eyes round—What happened to our sweet little Abi Banana?—and I shake my head back.Demonic possession. Obviously.

“Young lady—” my dad starts, his beard bristling.

“Dad,” Bethany cuts in, a smile plastered to her face, at the same time that my mom murmurs “Mike” and places a hand on his forearm. I sneak a peek at Janet, who’s calmly chewing her spaghetti and watching the family drama unfold like dinnertime entertainment.

“Let’s keep things positive, right?” Bethany says brightly. “We have this delicious food. And nice company.” If her smile was any more brittle, it would shatter. “I mean we have so much to be grateful—”

“Oh my god, could you be any more fake right now?” Abi asks, rolling her eyes, and I cough into my glass of water.

Ok, Abiisbeing a little snot. But she’s also…a little bit right. Bethany is stressed and overwhelmed—understandably so. If she’d just acknowledge that it’s been a hot mess kind of day, it would take the pressure off. Instead, she’s creating an emotional pressure cooker by desperately wanting to look like a picture-perfect, magazine ad family. Itisannoying. And, yes, fake.

Still, the power of being a truth teller comes with great responsibility, a memo that Abi clearly hasn’t gotten. (Maybe it didn’t come via text.)

I sit back in my chair, lips pressed together, and watch with fascination as Bethany takes three deep breaths, phony smile still in place. She opens her mouth like she’s about to speak, then closes it and returns to deep breathing, at which point I lean over to Jeremy, close enough to smell the clean scent of hotel soap.

“Watch,” I whisper. “She’s going to say ‘love and light.’”

Bethany stretches her smile wider and looks around the table, “I think what we all need right now is some love and light.”

Nailed it.

Jeremy chokes on his salad as Abi mumbles, “Whatyouneed is a Xanax and some wine.” At the same moment, Aiden sails a cherry tomato over Bethany’s head to August.

Tomatoes fly. Abi rolls her eyes. Bethany puts her head down on the table and sobs. And Thad and I look around in astonishment because our family dinner just descended into absolute madness, and for once, I’m not the one responsible.

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