“Olive Garden. I want some breadsticks and fettuccine.”
His face almost scrunches but quickly slips into a smile. “That’s my girl. Let’s go.”
It’s something about the way he doesn’t hesitate at my chain-restaurant answer, reminds me why this almost worked so well. Now, with Ellie finally seeing another therapist, the potential is extra apparent, if only Greece wasn’t so far away.
OLIVE GARDEN IS BUZZINGfor the Wednesday night before Thanksgiving, though most of the diners are parties of ten or more, waiting for small, lacquered tables to be pushed together to accommodate everyone’s relatives.
We skip the wine and dive right into the breadsticks. I order fettuccine and JP orders mushroom ravioli. By the time we get our entrees and a second basket of breadsticks, there’s a clatter at the table next to us and someone says, “I haven’t been to Thanksgiving in ten years because of shit like this,Martha!”
Both of our eyes go wide and we lock into each other, setting down our forks and chewing slowly and quietly so we don’t miss any details.
Martha, presumably, says, “That’s not fair, Howard. This family loves you. They always have.”
JP’s expression switches toawwjust as Howard says, “Damn right, they have to because they’re my damn family. You just decided to fuck all of us!”
I choke on my fettuccine and attempt to swallow the cough away but the slimy noodles attempt an escape out of my nose and I bury my face in a napkin, concealing my cough as best as I can. JP is silently scolding me from across the table. His bright green eyes are telling me to be quiet because we need to hear all of this drama, but the way his dimple is making an appearance tells me he’s about to lose his shit to laughter just the same.
“That’s not fair,” another male says. “You can’t help who you love.”
“That’s so true, Dennis,” Howard responds. “How about you ask Lisa that same question.”
My coughing episode has ceased, and my jaw falls open in shock, while JP mouths,fucking Lisa.
“Don’t look at me!” Lisa squeaks. “I have no part in this...drama.”
“Right,” Howard says, he’s leaning back in his chair now. At least, as much as I can tell without directly looking at him. He has clearly returned for the family holiday to unleash all his anger and call every single one of them out. The therapist in me applauds his boundaries and bravery, but maybe not at Olive Garden. “You’re absolutely right, Lisa. You probably can’t help going downtown on Jessa in the Kohl’s parking lot.”
JP and I stare at each other with our jaws on the table.
“We did not!” a new female voice adds. Jessa, I’m assuming.
“Now, kids, this is getting out of hand. This is supposed to be a holiday where we say what we’re thankful for,” the woman, who is most likely the matriarch of this chaotic bunch, chimes in.
“Exactly, Mom!” Howard says. “And I’m pretty sure everyone—but particularly Dennis and Jessa—should be thanking me for bringing the best lay they’ll ever have into their lives.”
JP slaps his hand over his mouth. I explode in laughter, but it doesn’t matter if anyone hears me because Howard stands from his chair just as his brother lunges over the table to take a swing at him. Plates break, breadsticks and salad go flying, Jessa and Lisa start crying and yelling. Their mom is crying, and the quiet old guy at the end wanders off.
JP and I can’t stop laughing. The manager, several servers, and a few cooks from the back break up the fight and kick the family out, while a different server comes over to apologize profusely to us.
“I just want you to know dinner is on us. We apologize because this is entirely unacceptable,” she says.
JP smiles and holds up his hands in an understanding gesture. “We understand, and we appreciate the entertainment.”
She winces. “Can I do anything else for you?”
I glance at the marinara smeared in the dark green carpet and smile at her sympathetically. “Just some boxes?”
She nods and returns minutes later with boxes and fresh breadsticks. We pack up the remaining parts of our meal and JP throws down two one-hundred-dollar bills.
I smile coyly at him. “Okay, big spender.”
He shrugs. “It’s not their fault for all the pent-up emotions from two brothers and a sister sharing the same woman.”
I throw my head back and laugh. “Lisa must be one good lay.”
JP grabs my arm as we escape the cream stucco and whispers, “I’m super jealous. Maybe I should give her my number.”
I bite my lip and grin up at him. “Shoot your shot.”
