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ever happened to them. Wasn’t it your responsibility to sort all that “who am I” crap out before you had kids? I don’t know how they can expect me to have the kind of answers that they don’t even have when they’ve got like twenty-five years on me.
    I was never a very loud or needy person, I’m pretty sure of that. But after I heard that conversation, I made an even bigger effort to lie low and stay out of Mom’s way. It was weird. I expected her to notice and react one of two ways. I thought she would compliment me on what an easy kid I was to raise, or Ithought she would say something about how she missed spending time together. But she never said anything. So I just kind of kept on disappearing little by little. And it was never really a big deal until I started messing up in school. And even then, Mom’s never really put two and two together.

THANKSGIVING PART 2
    Barry and Uncle Kris have been here for approximately twenty-eight hours and forty minutes. I don’t know how much more I can take. Tonight Uncle Kris came into my room while Barry was brushing his teeth. Barry gets my bed while he’s visiting, and I sleep on this pull-out futon on the other side of the room. Kris sleeps on the couch in the living room. Personally, I think if we’re going to have a strict policy here, that Mom should give up her bed for Kris and take the couch, seeing how they’re brother and sister and Barry and I are only cousins.
    I can tell by the look on his face that Kris wants to have some kind of heart-to-heart with me. “Barr Barr is really kind of a sensitive guy, Andrew,” Kris begins. “And when you put him down it really kind of bums him out. So if you could try and go easy on him this weekend, I’d appreciate it. He’s in a lot of pain.”
    I want to scream, “Are you serious? Are we talking about the same kid here? The one who just spent the last six hours telling me how and why I’m gay?” But I just nod and say, “Sure.” It seems to be the quickest and easiest way out of the conversation.
    Uncle Kris has always been a little deluded when it comes to his progeny. He used to get all excited and proud when Barry would rip a good one, like Barry’s flatulence is some kind of proof of his masculinity. But then at the same time he expects the kid to memorize Shakespeare or have like this deep emotional side. I just don’t see it.
    Mom did mention something about Aunt Allison not showing up for Thanksgiving. I just figured she was still pissed off at Mom for making fun of Martha Stewart at their house a couple years ago. It turns out that Aunt Allison is on a cruise with some of her girlfriends and made the conscious choice to avoid all of us on this holiday, including Barry and Kris.
    The last time Barry and Kris were at our house for Thanksgiving, Allison was with them. Mima came out from Indiana and even Dad was there. It was right after the divorce was finalized; Dad had his new place in the city, and Mom and I were back at our house. I guess they thought it would be less jarring to try and celebrate the holiday all together, but the whole thing was forced and awkward. Mima was staying with us, and Dad was staying in a hotel.
    I got up early on that Thanksgiving morning to go swim in the heated pool while Dad slept in one of the plastic chaise lounge chairs, the newspaper covering his face and his hangover. I remember being worried about leaving my cat alone in the house with Barry. Merlin had recently had surgery to remove a fatty deposit from his leg. He was loopy from the pain medicine and kept bashing the plastic cone he was wearing to prevent him from pulling out his stitches into the furniture. Every time he crashed into, something Barry would laugh hysterically and say, “Hey, Andrew, even your cat is retarded.”
    We ate dinner early because Dad said he had to get back for a work thing. Mom was extra irritable