And to crown it all, I found out that I was right, and that the holiday tacos were, to put it eloquently, an affront before God. I wasn’t even religious, but I was spiritually offended by them. It wasn’t even good holiday food inside—the turkey was overcooked and stringy, the stuffing was so dry it was like chewing a towel, the mashed potatoes were clearly instant and used so much water it was more like an unseasoned potato soup, and the gravy and cranberry sauce had been mixed together to make some kind of congealed menace to society. Asidefrom whatever artificial flavorings were in the stuffing mix this abomination had come from, not one herb or spice had crossed paths with this meal, and I explored the depths of Calvinistic self-punishment as moralism as I crunched a taco shell filled with soupy potato that dribbled sticky and wet down my hand and left me with dried turkey meat stuck between my teeth and chewing flavorless pieces of stuffing long after everything else in the taco had gone away, gristle and fat haunting my mouth like a bad memory. Sam shared looks of horror with me as we both grappled with what was in front of us, and I think he was more offended by the taco than he was by his boyfriend’s mother yelling at him, but at least we were in it together—outsiders in a cult watching the brainwashed attendees go back for second tacos. I drank rum with a hint of eggnog, and it helped me forget the pain.
I excused myself to go to the bathroom partway through the meal, because I felt like I was about to throw up when I saw Daniel wipe a blob of congealed cranberry turkey fat from his lip and pop it back in his mouth, and the nan caught me on the way back, getting another mug of eggnog. She beamed at me. “Good tacos, right?”
“Oh, uh, yeah… delicious.”
“Sure they’re not the best tacos you’ve eaten.”
“No, no, I think they’re great, they’re, uh…” I frowned. “Wait, are you making a sex joke?”
“Well, am I glad to see somebody in this family can pick up on things. What a relief to know Vicky isn’t going to be deprived.”
Wow. Nan didn’t have a filter. I cleared my throat hard. “Ah, uh, well… you know, the thing is, I, uh, Victoria’s not actually my girlfriend. We’re just roommates, and this is all just a misunderstanding that’s gotten way out of hand…”
She frowned. “Say what? Speak up.”
“We’re not girlfriends. She’s my roommate.”
She frowned further, squinting at me. “So no one’s eating anyone’s tacos?”
“Oh my god. No. I don’t even think she’s gay.”
She scoffed. “Oh, you’re joking. Just when I’d thought Vicky was onto something. You seem interesting, and God knows nobody in this family’s getting into anything interesting. Sammy’s fine enough, but you, I like you.”
“Oh, uh, thanks. Big relief, because honestly, I don’t know why I’m here.” I paused. “You know, I don’t actually know your name.”
“Glenda. Like the good witch. I used to sayGlenda the good bitch,but then I found out campy gay men say that, and I don’t want to do any of that… what’cha call it, cultural appropriation. Just call me Nan.”
I blinked. “Nan. Nice to meet you. You’re, uh, a bit different from the rest of the family.”
“Things really went downhill when my son Eugene married that Barbara woman. Alloh, things are going to be right and proper and good around here.Don’t tell anyone, but I’m actually the one who poisoned her drink to get rid of her. Statute of limitations is up anyway.”
I stiffened. “Uh… Nan, I don’t think you should be admitting to that.”
“I’m joking. She got a divorce and moved to Florida to be with her creepy culty parish. She comes around sometimes to lecture us on how we need to be good shepherds of the Lord’s flock. She uses a lot of words to say everyone should stop having sex. Some kind of chastity sex cult. You should ask Vicky out. If she’s not gay, convince her to give it a try. None of the straight relationships have worked out. Want some more eggnog?”
I blinked slowly, taking in about thirty different things at once. “Yeah, I’d love that. Maybe without the rum this time. I want to be able to drive home.”
“Ah, where’s the fun in that,” she said, but she obliged.
Chapter 10
Victoria
The evening went as badly as it possibly could have and then explored a few ways for it to go even worse, and the whole time, I still couldn’t bring myself to look at Bridget.
I felt horrible. I was obviously stressing her out—from the first time we saw each other in the morning, I’d brushed her off, and she was desperately trying to figure out what was wrong and fix it. And it wasn’t as though I could justsaywhat the problem was. I kept telling myselfokay, Victoria, you’ve had your moment, this time you’ll see her and be back to normal.And then I’d see her again, and my whole body would stir, and the embarrassment and guilt felt like a hot bath I was sitting in, enveloping me and steaming up all around me.
God forbid she looked back at me. Her eyes looked the exact same as always, but somehow completely different. I had a hard time not seeing them as the eyes that were fixed on the camera in that video.
She’d gone out of her way to help me, getting me a place to stay and everything, and now I was making her feel terrible over nothing she’d done, just because I’d… well.
Which meant I’d already been exhausted even before I got to my family’s house, and every step was more overwhelming than the last. I guess at least Mother deciding Sam was a terrible influence corrupting her son meant she couldn’t spare another thought for me and Bridget, and the subject of us didn’t come up again after that initial interaction went south, not until a tense dinner and a tenser dessert had wrapped up, and I’d followed Mother to the kitchen with a heavy weight in the pit of my stomach to where she was making coffee.
“Mom—” I started, coming up behind her, and she sighed, setting down the coffee beans, turning to me.
“Maybe you can talk to Kevin,” she said, and I shook my head.
“This isn’t about Kevin or Sam, it’s about me. I’m—”
