Alexandra Borowitz - Family And Other Catastrophes

“I love Cunt day!” Ariel flailed his arms around and twirled.

“He isn’t using it as a gendered slur, so as far as I’m concerned, he’s just taking away the word’s power,” Lauren said. “I don’t want to tell him to stop saying it. It might damage his self-esteem.”

“Uh-oh, did I walk in on another debate about Photoshopping plus-size models to get rid of cellulite?” Emily’s brother, Jason, stood in the doorway. Emily hadn’t seen him since his divorce, and she was struck by his new single look. It had been a while since Jason qualified as attractive, and now that he was in his midthirties, balding could be added to the list of attributes that made him solidly average looking. However, he had slimmed down a bit, losing some weight in his face, and he had stopped wearing white Reebok sneakers with jeans unironically. Now he wore skinny jeans and an intentionally distressed Urban Outfitters T-shirt, dusty blue and paper-thin, with a faded image of a Fender Telecaster printed on it. He resembled the middle photo between “Before” and “After” on the LifeSpin progression board that was posted between the AeRate™ oxygen bar and the FloTate™ flotation chamber.

“Hey, Jason,” Emily said. “Nice shirt. You look good!” She hugged him.

“You too, Em. Christina is coming by to drop Mia off later, by the way. She posted a picture of her on Facebook, and I have to say, she looks pretty cute in her flower girl dress. You’re going to like it.”

“Aw, I can’t wait to see her.”

“That makes one of us.”

“Not Christina. Mia.”

“Oh. Yeah, me too. Last time I saw her was three weeks ago. I miss my little girl. I had to miss our last weekend together for my friend Mike’s bachelor party, and then Christina was too much of a bitch to give up the weekend after. Says it will ‘ruin the schedule.’”

Marla strode over to them. “I couldn’t help but overhear. Jason, have you heard from Christina yet?”

“Please refer to her by her proper name—Satan. And the answer to your question is that I haven’t heard from Satan since last night when she said she’d be dropping Mia off today. Maybe she’s been busy causing plagues in Africa or possessing the bodies of rural teenage girls.”

“Hmm. Well, would you please ask her to give us an ETA?”

“Why would I ask her that? ETA for what? She’s just dropping Mia off.”

Marla turned to Emily. “He doesn’t know. You told me you would tell him.”

“I never said that.”

“Well, he obviously doesn’t know.”

“What don’t I know?” Emily would have taken his concern a lot more seriously if he hadn’t been swiping through Tinder while expressing it.

“Emily invited Christina to the wedding,” Marla said. “She also invited her to David’s parents’ barbecue. I told her it would cause problems, but she wanted her there. So now I’m just trying to avoid your constant drama, like always. Every time with you kids.”

Jason looked up from his phone to glare at Emily. “Em! Dude! What the hell?”

“Look,” she said, her heart beginning to race. “I didn’t want her there. I invited her because it seemed really cruel to ask this woman—who I’ve known for years—to drop her kid off at my wedding and then drive away. I couldn’t bring myself to do that.”

Back when Jason and Christina were married, Christina had been the feminine, graceful older sister that Emily never had. She had given her fashion tips, and they had even gotten makeovers together at Macy’s one Christmas. But with every loving, sisterly embrace came unsolicited advice, needless pep talks and confessions of problems that were actually brags, such as the fact that her butt was too round and made her look slutty if she wore white pants. Even so, as much as Emily was sometimes tempted to write Christina off as a delusional, self-important jerk, she couldn’t. Christina had been the only person in her family to take her college social dramas seriously, or any of her mini crises, for that matter. When she was the only girl in her hall not to be accepted by a single sorority, Christina stayed on the phone with her for over an hour listening to her vent. Meanwhile, her father had only emailed her: Sororities are a waste of time and money anyway. Study. Love, Dad. Every time she worried about getting herpes from a toilet seat, Christina was armed and ready with her own handful of stories about herpes-afflicted friends and how none of them got it from a toilet seat. That made Emily feel better, and afterward she only Googled herpes for an hour.

“I can’t believe you,” Jason said. “Inviting my ex-wife when you know she’s the worst person on Earth.”

“You won’t even have to see her. And this is my wedding anyway.”

“Yeah, well, unfortunately she was at my wedding too. I’d like to go to a family wedding where this woman doesn’t ruin it. Lauren, when are you getting married?”

“When same-sex marriage is legal in every country.”

“Okay, so after Saudi Arabia is wiped off the face of the Earth by an alien invasion.”

“That whole part of the world will be wiped off the face of the Earth anyway. Thanks to our corrupt government’s white American imperial colonization.”

“You are going to get married, though, right? If you honestly wait for gay marriage to be legal everywhere, it’ll just never happen.”

“So be it. I won’t use any privilege that is only afforded to me because of my whiteness or straight-passing.” Lauren picked up Ariel, as if to use him as a conversational shield.

“You’re not straight?” Jason said. “You only ever date men.”

“I’m pansexual and heteroromantic.”

He blinked and turned back to Emily. “Did you seriously need to invite Christina to this stuff?”

“Jason, just relax about Christina,” Marla said. “Don’t let her rent space in your head for free. She never deserved you.”

“She never deserved him?” Lauren said. “He cheated on her and emotionally abused her for years. You’re blaming the wrong person, Mom.”

“Abuse her!” Ariel said.

“Men can’t help it,” Jason said, quieter this time, as if to prevent Ariel from hearing him. “We’re just not monogamous. We’re always looking for the youngest, hottest thing around. Don’t kill the messenger—it’s just biology.”

“Jason, that’s ridiculous,” Emily said. “Christina is beautiful.”

“You’re missing the point. Sure, she’s hot, but she’s only one woman. Would you tell a gay guy to stop being gay? I’m only attracted to hot, young women, and I can’t be with one woman at a time. At least I admit it. You guys should be proud of my self-awareness.” He smiled to himself, eagerly anticipating an argument. This was something he had been doing since he was a kid. In 1997 he told Marla he was a Republican just to get a rise out of her, and she cried for days after declaring she had failed as a mother.

Emily had heard enough. “You’re not young or hot, Jason!”

“Women don’t care about looks. They care about personality.”

“Okay, well, you also have a shitty personality.” It wasn’t often that Emily sensed approval from her sister, but she knew Lauren agreed with that comment.

“Look, I know both of you are self-conscious about your looks or age or whatever,” he said. “You shouldn’t be. I’m not saying all men are like me. Obviously you’re both with guys who are fine committing to a woman. I’m just of a different caliper.”

“It’s caliber , actually,” Lauren said.

“Uh, where should I put these?”

Emily turned and saw David, still holding the two bags, his back against the wall. He looked like someone who had just seen a digitally remastered version of The Exorcist in the front row of a 3-D Imax theater. He always asked her why she tried to limit the time he spent with her family. Now he knew.