Page 35 of Four Letter Feelings

“Okay, I’m keeping score,” announced Cindy. “My children have been known to mis-report their scores at the end of a round, to one-up each other, Jeremy. Ten rounds. Lowest score at the end, wins.”

***

As AJ sat devouring his ‘victory pie’ as he was referring to it, Ana sat smoldering in the corner. They’d warned Jeremy that she was a sore loser, and they weren’t lying. During the course of the game a mug had been broken and an abandoned half-glass of champagne had been somehow knocked over the playing surface. They’d given the cards a quick wipe, sat them to the side to dry and used different cards to continue the game.

“I can’t imagine more people playing that game. You guys had, what, ten sets of cards? That would be friggin’ insane.”

“You have no idea,” Art, who had indeed been woken up by the kerfuffle, answered. “It’s supposed to be banned under this roof,” he added somberly.

“Banned?”

“Yeah. I don’t like to talk about it.”

Jeremy looked at AJ expecting him to show some kind of sign that Art was kidding. Instead, he was grimacing.

“Still sorry about that, Dad.”

“It’s fine, Son. The dentist fixed my chipped tooth and my lip only needed one stitch. Your mother was mortified when someone asked me if I was a beaten husband when we had lunch in town the next day, though.”

AJ sighed deeply. He’d clearly heard the tale any number of times, and he clearly still felt bad about it.

“It really was an accident, Dad,” Ana offered.

“I know, darling. But there’s a reason we make sure there’s at most four or five people playing that damned game and it’s the very same reason I don’t play it anymore.”

“Sounds more dangerous than a hockey game,” joked Jeremy.

“I’m still traumatized,” answered Art, without humor.

“Alright, Art, that’s enough reminiscing. Eat your pie!” she tutted and rolled her eyes. “You can see why they need supervision to play that blasted game, Jeremy.”

“Oh yes, Mrs. W. I could tell you hated the game and were only playing to keep them in check.” He winked at her.

“Shhh! There’s very interesting sport on the television, Jeremy. Finish your pie.”

“I don’t think I can. I think I might burst.”

Jeremy slid off the sofa, ungracefully landing in a heap on the floor.

“Sounds like Thanksgiving alright!” AJ raised his drink to toast his fallen friend.

“Someone stick a fork in me, I’m done.”

“Talk about a drama llama, Jer.” Ana laughed

“Never mind a drama llama, I’m an expanda-llama right now,” he answered, tugging at the waistband of his sweatpants. “Someone wake me up when it’s Christmas!”

***

Later that night, after Cindy, Art and Ana had gone to bed, AJ and Jeremy sat at the dining room table with a plate of cold cuts, cheeses and crackers.

“Your mom’s gonna kick our asses for having this midnight feast.”

“It’s after 1 a.m. for one, and for two, it serves her right for leaving it defenseless in the fridge.”

“I’ll tell her you said that. It’s so freakin’ good, though.”

“Agreed! Next year you’ll have to make double the amount of those sprouts, Jer. They were epic.”

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