“I don’t wanna go!” shouted Russ to his mother, as she told him he had to attend the family reunion.

Russ wasn’t the kind of boy who would go looking for adventure. Given the choice, he’d much rather sit on the couch all day watching the Cartoon Network, maybe playing with his Playstation for awhile. The neighborhood boys left him alone. They knew he wouldn’t want to come out to play. He was seven, his life wasn’t that exciting, and he liked it that way.

“You’ll go and you’ll behave,” retorted his frustrated mother. She grumbled. It wasn’t her husband’s side of the family, after all, and he was out of town on business, leaving her to schmooze and uphold the family name. She threw a polo shirt at him and told him to clean up so he’d look good for the relatives.

The Madras family reunion wasn’t very large or very traditional. Its members were affluent, driven, and more than a little uptight. A potluck or an open house would never have suited them. Their catered meal with plenty of wine to match was more reminiscent of a high-strung prep school reunion. The atmosphere wasn’t much different either. Stories were tossed around the room with competitive flair. Siblings jockeyed for position as the most outrageous, the funniest, even the most daring. They were a competitive bunch, and it showed.

Uncle John was always the loner among his siblings. He never married, didn’t have any kids, and was more than a little awkward talking with his happily married upwardly-mobile brothers and sisters. Money “wasn’t his thing.” He was the youngest. His siblings thought that he was a clown, he knew it, and he resented it. His decision to sit at the childrens’ table was as much out of personal defense as it was about comfort.

For awhile, things seemed to be at bay. The adults were busy with their wine and storytelling, and Uncle John had more than enough of his own stories to tell the children. His tales lacked the wine-induced sensationalism of the others. He was boring the kids, but he didn’t care. He wasn’t talking to them. Like an old soldier, his stories were told as much for himself as for whoever happened to be listening. Being well-trained little Brahmins, the kids knew not to let on. But every once in awhile, as the cacophony from the adults’ table turned into a roar of laughter, they’d turn their heads and watch as a family member laid the punchline on some childhood story of particular note.

Only Russ was never distracted by the adults. He was quiet and thoughtful, and he did his best to listen to everything his Uncle John had to say. He looked at John with video game eyes, glassy, but dramatically focused. John was talking about his childhood days catching insects. Russ knew nothing about collecting insects, but he seemed at least a little interested in the topic. Luke continued to drone in near-monotone. He was genuinely unconcerned about what young Russ had to say.

“…and then John says, ‘Mom, I don’t like talking to the adults! I just want to hang out with the little kids!’ Well, not much has changed, has it?” The words cut cleanly through the chatter. Pause. Suddenly the entire adult table was howling. Even Russ’s mom thought it was hilarious.

“You know what Luke, you can go to Hell!” John jumped up defensively. He thrust his pointer finger at the ground defiantly, shaking it for added effect. His face was serious and controlled, but he was clearly uncomfortable. He had been building up to this for a long time.

Silence. The other adults stared at John blankly. They didn’ t know how to react. Russ’s eyes snapped back to reality, as he slowly turned his head to see his uncle Luke standing, grinning nervously, caught in his mean-spirited words. Turning back, he saw John, face turning red, fingers pointing, arm throbbing in anger, seemingly slicing cleanly through the earth below.

Feeling suitably empowered, John sat down, composing himself and finishing his sentence without a waver. He continued his story in the same nonchalant drone, uninterrupted.

Suddenly Russ butted in. “Uncle John?” he interjected sheepishly. “My teacher told me that if I dug straight down, I’d dig all the way to China. Is that really true?”

“Yes, Russ. You can go to China.”

Posted on October 14th, 2004 by Lee
Filed under: Uncategorized