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because she was only on her second glass of wine. Aunt Allison had made these candle holders out of cut-up magazines and seashells collaged onto paper towel rolls. Whatever she used to glue them together must have been flammable, because when she went to light the candles, the whole thing went up in a ball of flame.
    Barry burst into hysterics; meanwhile, Kris was waving his hands, trying to put out the flames but only fanning them further. Under the table, Merlin was yowling and bumping his cone into the table legs. Finally Dad leaned forward and blew really hard on them, which put out the flame but sent a spattering of hot wax all over Mom’s turkey. So Mom was pissed, and Aunt Allison was pissed, and everyone had to pick little wax blobs off their turkey.
    It didn’t get any better from there. After Mom had her third glass of wine, she started talking about food prices and how expensive everything was getting. She and Aunt Allison got on a rant about how much kids cost, all of which, I knew, was a semi-veiled attack on Dad because Mom and Allison never agreed on anything. Then Dad said, “Great, Nancy, why don’t you make him feel even better about his existence?” At which point Mom told him not to put me in the middle of things, even though she kind of already had.
    ***
    Later that afternoon, while Kris and Barry snored off their pie and ice cream on our couch in front of a football game, I caught Dad trying to sneak out unnoticed. “Where are you going?” I asked as he slung his travel bag and briefcase into the passenger seat of the Volvo.
    â€œI’m sorry, Andrew, but I’ve got to get out of here. Your mother is making this impossible for me.”
    â€œShe doesn’t seem that happy either,” I mumbled lamely.
    â€œYeah, this was a dumb idea,” Dad said. I guess he was interpreting my comment as agreement.
Anyway, what was a dumb idea? Having Thanksgiving together? Or having a kid together?
    That afternoon I played card games with Mima and lost every one, even though I could tell she was going out of her way to let me win. “No offense to your mother, Andrew,” Mima said. “But this is a drag. Next year the two of you should come out and see me instead.”
    â€œBut what about Dad?”
    â€œHe can come if he wants to,” Mima said. “But I have a feeling he’ll be busy.”



RUNNING AWAY
    I didn’t intend to run away. I just threw some stuff in my backpack and started walking. I guess I intended to make a statement. My face is still burning, and the whole way down Evergreen Street I keep glancing over my shoulder, looking for Mom’s car. But it never comes. This just pisses me off more, and I walk faster. I had figured on Kris and Barry wanting to do turkey and all that, but I had forgotten about football. After the third game in a row, I felt the yellow and white lines swimming in front of my eyes. Every time I got up to do something else, Mom would shoot me that look like I was deserting the family.
    Finally I managed to ignore her death stare and I found refuge in my bedroom. I pulled out one of the books on colleges that Dad sent me as a means of communicating about my future. I figured now was that moment when there was absolutely nothing else I would rather be doing. I flopped down on my bed, brushing aside Barry’s dirty T-shirt and boxer shorts. It was wet.
    â€œJesus Christ!” I screamed and hopped up off the soggy sheets. I stuck my head out in the hall. “Barry!” I yelled. “You freakin’ slob, what the hell did you spill on my bed?”
    Barry didn’t even look away from the football game. Kris shot my mother a distraught glance, and before I could say anything else she was dragging me back into the room by my sleeve.
    â€œYour cousin Barry is going through a very rough time right now, Andrew, and I need you to be a little more compassionate.”
    â€œFine,” I said