Saturday's Storyteller: "Grandpa's attempt at mashed potatoes could only be described as 'enraged.'"
by Belinda Roddie
Grandpa's attempt at mashed potatoes could only be described as "enraged." Where parts of it sagged into mush, others rose in angry starch mountains and volcanoes on my plate. With butter, the whole thing turned into a battlefield. And in my mouth, it tasted like the end of a long and bitter war.
My mother managed to swallow a lumpy wad without gagging, though my sister wasn't so skilled at masking her disdain. After the first nibble, she reached for her glass of wine and drank a good third of it before apparently her palate was at last cleansed. Grandpa, as always, sat at the head of the table. His face was still red and veiny, his fists trembling as his fingers nearly bent the fork and knife in his grip.
"Well," he barked at my sister, "can you at least eat the meatloaf?"
My sister raised her head from her plate - most likely, she had been scrutinizing the dinner as if wrinkling her nose at a "modern" work of art - and stared. "Fuck off," she muttered, wiping the left side of her mouth with her napkin. "That shit looks like roadkill with hemorrhoids."
I nearly shot my ginger ale out of my nose. The carbonation stung like Hell, but that was how close I had gotten to outright guffawing. Our grandfather, needless to say, was far from pleased.
"Young lady," he muttered, "I don't know where you get off speaking to me like that..."
"Oh, give me a break!" retorted my sister. "I get it - you lost your tournament today. Again. I get it - you needed to take out your derision on our poor food and make it less than salvageable. Again. For once, however, I think I should cook dinner so we don't have to endure how much you hate yourself for being a shitty golfer."
Grandpa set down his fork. Hard. It was enough to leave a dent on the dining room table. My mother said nothing. Neither did I.
"Marley, my dear," asked Grandpa, his words oozing out like venom between his fuzzy lips. His eyes were blazing beneath his awkward thatch of white hair. "is there anything else you'd like to add?"
My sister shook her head. "Nah." She stood up from the table. "I'm just going to take a painkiller and have a smoke outside. Y'know, like normal people do when they need to blow off steam."
With that, she waltzed out of the room, and just like that, all the authority and power that emanated the space diminished. There was no denying that Marley was a woman who stopped everyone in their tracks when she arrived at an event or party. She was simply that worthy of attention. Steely, confident, and witty enough to get anyone, regardless of status or gender, to stutter. Grandpa, of course, was one of the exceptions.
"Honestly," he suddenly said to my mother, who was still trying very hard to demolish the wreckage of the mashed potatoes on her plate. "When is that damn girl going to find a man to straighten her out?"
My mother didn't even blink. "When he's got bigger boobs and less of a dick than Ida does, Dad."
***
Marley was six years older than I was, but we both went gaga over gals. If we had been biological sisters, that might have turned some heads, but as it was, my father left my mother when Marley was five, and she decided to adopt me from a teenager who was willing to carry out the pregnancy but not take care of me. My mother had told me that once I was eighteen, I could contact my biological mom and meet her. I had no interest. As it was, Grandpa was around to serve as the father figure. He had enough money in his savings to take care of me for another couple of years. After that, I was on my own.
My sister had gotten away from the house pretty fast, especially after our grandfather threw a fit about both of us coming out within the same week. He accused Marley of influencing me, of poisoning my ideology, before launching into the painfully clichéd tirade about "rock 'n roll" and "kids these days" and "when I was your age." Ironically enough, I had come out first. Marley later confided in me that I was the reason why she had the courage to be open and stop trying to enjoying fucking boys while she was in college.
As it was, Marley had been with the same girl for two years now. Ida was a lovely lady - plump, but pretty and endearing, and with a sharper tongue than I could ever imagine. She was a doctor, and Marley worked as a paralegal. They were normally both very busy and enjoyed drinking beer together, complaining about the stresses of their crammed schedules and demanding jobs. Needless to say, they were a perfect pair.
I hadn't dated anyone yet. No boys, no girls. That was fine. I had kissed plenty of girls and liked it. Mostly, they had been on dares. Grandpa only mentioned my homosexuality when he was being sarcastic, but I learned to let it roll off me. At this point, almost at eight o'clock in the evening, I was ready to check in on Marley on the front porch and see if I could snag a cigarette from her.
When I walked outside, Marley was a block away, on the phone. She saw me and hung up almost immediately. Before I could even ask either of my questions, she forked over a clove and had an answer.
"Ida called. She told me she gets two weeks off. Means we can finally have a vacation." I stuck the cigarette into my mouth as my sister talked, enjoying the undertone of spice as I inhaled.
"Wanna bail somewhere? Buy me alcohol?"
"Christ, Jay," Marley laughed, using my nickname as I liked. Grandpa wouldn't comply. He called me Jackie. "I work in law. You want me to get arrested and lose my job?"
"I won't go in the store with you."
"You're already smoking. Let's keep the bad habits to a minimum, all right?"
I shrugged. "Least I don't snort cocaine."
"Oh, yes. Thank the Lord for that little blessing." Marley jabbed me with her elbow before I could jab her with mine. She sighed. "You know what I do want, though?"
"Real food?"
"Fuck, yes." Now she ruffled my hair. "I like you, Jay. Even if some people don't."
By 'some people,' she meant my biological mom. I didn't mind. Marley was the best sister I could ask for. I put out my cigarette and tucked the stub behind my ear.
"Let's go to Alex's Diner," I said. "If we're lucky, that hot waitress will be working there."
"Isn't she five years older than you?"
"Eye candy's eye candy."
"Jailbait."
"Not if I'm the one ogling her!"
Marley chuckled and took a drag on her cigarette. When the smoke enveloped her, her hair looked ashen. Almost like Grandpa's.
This week's prompt was provided by Daniel Bulone.
Grandpa's attempt at mashed potatoes could only be described as "enraged." Where parts of it sagged into mush, others rose in angry starch mountains and volcanoes on my plate. With butter, the whole thing turned into a battlefield. And in my mouth, it tasted like the end of a long and bitter war.
My mother managed to swallow a lumpy wad without gagging, though my sister wasn't so skilled at masking her disdain. After the first nibble, she reached for her glass of wine and drank a good third of it before apparently her palate was at last cleansed. Grandpa, as always, sat at the head of the table. His face was still red and veiny, his fists trembling as his fingers nearly bent the fork and knife in his grip.
"Well," he barked at my sister, "can you at least eat the meatloaf?"
My sister raised her head from her plate - most likely, she had been scrutinizing the dinner as if wrinkling her nose at a "modern" work of art - and stared. "Fuck off," she muttered, wiping the left side of her mouth with her napkin. "That shit looks like roadkill with hemorrhoids."
I nearly shot my ginger ale out of my nose. The carbonation stung like Hell, but that was how close I had gotten to outright guffawing. Our grandfather, needless to say, was far from pleased.
"Young lady," he muttered, "I don't know where you get off speaking to me like that..."
"Oh, give me a break!" retorted my sister. "I get it - you lost your tournament today. Again. I get it - you needed to take out your derision on our poor food and make it less than salvageable. Again. For once, however, I think I should cook dinner so we don't have to endure how much you hate yourself for being a shitty golfer."
Grandpa set down his fork. Hard. It was enough to leave a dent on the dining room table. My mother said nothing. Neither did I.
"Marley, my dear," asked Grandpa, his words oozing out like venom between his fuzzy lips. His eyes were blazing beneath his awkward thatch of white hair. "is there anything else you'd like to add?"
My sister shook her head. "Nah." She stood up from the table. "I'm just going to take a painkiller and have a smoke outside. Y'know, like normal people do when they need to blow off steam."
With that, she waltzed out of the room, and just like that, all the authority and power that emanated the space diminished. There was no denying that Marley was a woman who stopped everyone in their tracks when she arrived at an event or party. She was simply that worthy of attention. Steely, confident, and witty enough to get anyone, regardless of status or gender, to stutter. Grandpa, of course, was one of the exceptions.
"Honestly," he suddenly said to my mother, who was still trying very hard to demolish the wreckage of the mashed potatoes on her plate. "When is that damn girl going to find a man to straighten her out?"
My mother didn't even blink. "When he's got bigger boobs and less of a dick than Ida does, Dad."
***
Marley was six years older than I was, but we both went gaga over gals. If we had been biological sisters, that might have turned some heads, but as it was, my father left my mother when Marley was five, and she decided to adopt me from a teenager who was willing to carry out the pregnancy but not take care of me. My mother had told me that once I was eighteen, I could contact my biological mom and meet her. I had no interest. As it was, Grandpa was around to serve as the father figure. He had enough money in his savings to take care of me for another couple of years. After that, I was on my own.
My sister had gotten away from the house pretty fast, especially after our grandfather threw a fit about both of us coming out within the same week. He accused Marley of influencing me, of poisoning my ideology, before launching into the painfully clichéd tirade about "rock 'n roll" and "kids these days" and "when I was your age." Ironically enough, I had come out first. Marley later confided in me that I was the reason why she had the courage to be open and stop trying to enjoying fucking boys while she was in college.
As it was, Marley had been with the same girl for two years now. Ida was a lovely lady - plump, but pretty and endearing, and with a sharper tongue than I could ever imagine. She was a doctor, and Marley worked as a paralegal. They were normally both very busy and enjoyed drinking beer together, complaining about the stresses of their crammed schedules and demanding jobs. Needless to say, they were a perfect pair.
I hadn't dated anyone yet. No boys, no girls. That was fine. I had kissed plenty of girls and liked it. Mostly, they had been on dares. Grandpa only mentioned my homosexuality when he was being sarcastic, but I learned to let it roll off me. At this point, almost at eight o'clock in the evening, I was ready to check in on Marley on the front porch and see if I could snag a cigarette from her.
When I walked outside, Marley was a block away, on the phone. She saw me and hung up almost immediately. Before I could even ask either of my questions, she forked over a clove and had an answer.
"Ida called. She told me she gets two weeks off. Means we can finally have a vacation." I stuck the cigarette into my mouth as my sister talked, enjoying the undertone of spice as I inhaled.
"Wanna bail somewhere? Buy me alcohol?"
"Christ, Jay," Marley laughed, using my nickname as I liked. Grandpa wouldn't comply. He called me Jackie. "I work in law. You want me to get arrested and lose my job?"
"I won't go in the store with you."
"You're already smoking. Let's keep the bad habits to a minimum, all right?"
I shrugged. "Least I don't snort cocaine."
"Oh, yes. Thank the Lord for that little blessing." Marley jabbed me with her elbow before I could jab her with mine. She sighed. "You know what I do want, though?"
"Real food?"
"Fuck, yes." Now she ruffled my hair. "I like you, Jay. Even if some people don't."
By 'some people,' she meant my biological mom. I didn't mind. Marley was the best sister I could ask for. I put out my cigarette and tucked the stub behind my ear.
"Let's go to Alex's Diner," I said. "If we're lucky, that hot waitress will be working there."
"Isn't she five years older than you?"
"Eye candy's eye candy."
"Jailbait."
"Not if I'm the one ogling her!"
Marley chuckled and took a drag on her cigarette. When the smoke enveloped her, her hair looked ashen. Almost like Grandpa's.
This week's prompt was provided by Daniel Bulone.
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