Death of a Turkey by Melissa Conneuil

22 There’s a dead baby boy on the table and my sister, Lace, hands me the mashed potatoes over his body. I don’t really like it because she makes it mad lumpy and I sent her a video I saw on YouTube of a lady showing people how to make mashed potatoes the right way, and of course she ignored it. Mashed potatoes aren’t meant to be lumpy.

My dad sits at the head of the table because he’s Dad and the worms that have half-eaten his decomposing form are falling on the floor with bits of dirt—Mom kicks them out of her way when she walks to the kitchen to get more drinks. It’s Thanksgiving, the most dysfunctional time of the year, and my aunt Maggie is here with her two sons, Vaughn and Kyle, and Vaughn molested me as a kid and likes the green bean casserole the most so Aunt Maggie piles half of the entire casserole on his plate because she spoils him so.

Dad’s worms are crawling towards the dead baby at the center of the table like maybe they’re over my dad which is kind of sad, but I get it, sometimes I get tired of eating the same thing over and over, but sometimes I get that way where I eat the same thing over and over again and can get kind of obsessive.

My grandmother is sitting in the corner on her rocking chair, and I want to cry because I haven’t seen her since she died when I was nine and she’s the only person in the room that I love. I was her favorite and she told me so. I felt love for nine years of my life and a part of me can feel it now and it’s been a long while, so I might not finish this meal.

My brother-in-law is not here, he’s cheating on my sister. My sister knows because I know and if I knew that means I had something to hurt her with and I totally tried. But she already knew so that was disappointing. I totally thought I had a sharp knife in this relationship finally. A part of me kind of like her more now. I mean, I’ve figured it out. She’s going to stay in the comforts of her lifestyle with this man and she doesn’t have to have sex with him. This is my ideal relationship with a man. I’m kind of envious, if I’m being honest.

My mother, Mom, can’t sit down for five minutes, and sometimes I hear her crying from the kitchen but I don’t do anything about it. Nobody does. Who’s even alive here? Vaughn gets up to use the bathroom and I think about following him and stabbing him to death there. But I don’t because people come back from bathroom breaks. I’ll do it tonight when he’s sleeping. I always wanted to die in my sleep, and the Lord said do onto others as you would have done onto you, or some shit like that. Our house is going to burn down six hours from now and Aunt Maggie and Kyle will live, and so will Mom but she’ll kill herself in six months so don’t worry about it. If you’ve been keeping track, Dad’s already dead, so is Grandma, Vaughn I’ll kill before I set the fire, and my sister is the one I’ll set fire to. I’ll shoot myself after don’t worry about it. This is starting to sound morbid, but trust me (hashtag) it gets better. But let’s get back to the present, the future is uncertain anyway. Maybe none of that happens.

Lace keeps looking at me funny and yes is the answer to her question, yes I’m fucking stoned as shit. “What’s your malfunction?” she says. And I have nothing to lose because Mom is in denial about everything so this won’t hurt her too much.

“Um… well, I got PTSD going on, a little bipolar disorder, a little anxiety to keep it cute you know, I’m going to kill myself and most everyone in this house… and I didn’t eat breakfast.”

“Why didn’t you eat breakfast?” she says. “I wasn’t hungry,” I say. Dad gets up from the table and falls on the floor because his left leg didn’t get up with him and that leg, now detached from his body, falls on the other side of his chair. My mother looks at the carpet and sighs heavily and her shoulders fall low, so low the edges might as well be her breasts.

“I’m going to need a good vacuum. One of you girls should get me one for Christmas.” “I’ll get it for you,” Lace says.

And of course she fucking will. Dad’s moving around on the floor like a fish just reeled into a boat and I think he’s forgotten how to be human and reach for things. He can get up if he reached for the edge of the table and pull himself up, he could stand on one leg. Aunt Maggie is scrolling through her phone, probably posting Jesus shit all over her Facebook wall. She’s given me a Bible every Christmas since I said I was an Atheist a few—maybe eight—Christmases ago. Dad lost it and told me I was going to hell, and mom started crying because she believed him.

Grandma gets up from her chair and walks towards me and my heart swells. She’s the only person I feel in this room. I smile and she walks through the front door. I’ll see her later I’m sure. Vaughn comes back from the bathroom smelling like weed and I could really use some more weed right now because I can feel myself coming down and I want to ask him for some but I don’t want to humanize him by talking to him. Kyle is on his Gameboy, and my sister looks around the table and she’s about to talk and, really, sometimes I think she’s adopted.

“So, why doesn’t everyone say what they’re thankful for?” she says, smiling that practiced smile that makes me want to throw acid on her face.

“That’s a great idea,” Aunt Maggie says. “I’m thankful for Jesus Christ and his saving grace. I’m thankful that he’s brought us all together, thought not all of us could be here, and I’m thankful for my boys.” Her voice is irritating and I feel that rage swell inside of me. It’s not a rage that’s going to come out, well, not yet anyway, it’s about the level my rage gets when Mom asks me to show her how to use the computer.

“That’s great, Aunt Maggie,” Lace says. And of course she fucking says that. “What are you thankful for, Liz?” Aunt Maggie asks me.

I hate the sound of my name, well, those three letters from my name, and why just not name me that, no one calls me Elizabeth except teachers and shit.

“I’m thankful for…” And I have to think about it because fuck this holiday. “for—”

“I’m thankful for my family,” Lace says. And of course she is. And of course she cuts me off. And of course she’s going to make setting her on fire difficult. Bitch.

“Yeah, me too,” I say. “Well,” Mom says, “I’m thankful that we all survived another year and that we can all find the time to spend together.”

Aunt Maggie forces Kyle and Vaughn to say what they’re thankful for, and Kyle says his game systems, and after Aunt Maggie clears her throat and gives the Mom look, he rolls his eyes and says “and my family.” Vaughn says nothing; He’s dead in my ears. My dad is still on the floor and the dead baby is still on the table. The living are not going to acknowledge the dead here, and a pause in the conversation gets too awkward to sit through so I take out a cigarette and light it and give the entire family a scandal at Thanksgiving. A gift…they need it. And I’m a giving person. My mom is horrified and starts to yell in sync with Aunt Maggie. Lace scuffs in disgust and asks what’s wrong with me again before getting up from the table and going to the kitchen. Kyle gets up from the table to use the bathroom. And Vaughn is still dead in my ears. “Liz, that will kill you,” Aunt Maggie says. “Not if I kill me first!” And the exclamation point is my excitement over finally getting to use that line. I’ve had it in my back pocket for years.

“I can’t believe you sometimes,” Mom says. “We were having a nice Thanksgiving,” and I want to laugh myself to death.

“If you’re going to do that,” Lace says, poking her head back into the dining room from the kitchen, “at least do it outside.”

I look at her and I know the reason she got up from the table is so that she doesn’t smell it. She quit smoking four years ago, but an addict is an addict and I start sharpen the knife again, it could be useful this time.

“Fine,” I say. And I get up and walk past her, exhaling a cloud of smoke at her direction as I do, and I look back to see if the knife is somewhere in her, but it’s still in my hand. Fuck. Didn’t work. She probably held her breath. Bitch. Outside is unseasonably warm, and I walk around the house. I was born here, my grandma died here. So did Dad. So did the baby. Everyone died here, so it’s only fair that everyone continues to die here. After I finish the cigarette I walk back into the house and mom is clearing the table, careful not to touch the dead baby. She steps over Dad’s foot and looks down and shakes her head at the worms and the dirt. Kyle is nowhere to be seen, probably gone to his room, and Vaughn is dead to my eyes.

“Why would you do that to yourself,” Aunt Maggie says as she spots me. “Do what?” I say. “Kill yourself,” she says.

And I stop and stare at her, heart swelling, hoping, maybe—

“Smoking kills,” she says. And I go back outside and light another cigarette. I walk into the wooded area behind the house and head for the stream that lies a little distance away. I used to come here to read when I was a kid. I loved reading, but words got foggy and my head got tight a couple years ago and I had to stop. That was around when my dad died.

The sun begins to set and the air gets colder. I walk back to the house and Rockwell would love this shit. It’s white with black trim, has smoke billowing out of a chimney, and it’s surrounded by the colors of autumn. It’s a beautiful house. Postcard quality shit.

I walk back inside the kitchen through the backdoor and Mom is doing the dishes. My sister isn’t here, and neither are Aunt Maggie, Kyle, and that Vaughn thing she likes.

“Where is everyone,” I say. “Turned in early, it’s been a rough day,” mom says. And no it hasn’t. Not yet anyway. I walk to my room and I sit on the bed listening to music as primetime turns into Showtime. The house is quiet. The only sound that penetrates my mind is the sound of the rusty metal gate swinging in the midnight wind. The Vaughn thing is on the pullout sofa downstairs. I kill him first, naturally. Then I set my sister on fire. I reach into my bedside table and pull out my dad’s gun. The one he killed himself with… I do the same.

“The baby is crying,” I say. “I know, I heard it,” Lace says. And of course she fucking did. We both walk downstairs as Aunt Maggie and Kyle are running from the thick smoke engulfing the top part of the house. Aunt Maggie runs into the living room to get Vaughn and screams in a pitch I didn’t think existed in nature and, really, she’s so overdramatic. The baby stops crying before Lace and I get to the dining room and it’s only because dad’s picked him up.

“Liz, you need to watch your kid,” he says. “Duh,” I say. “I’ll watch him,” Lace says. And of course she fucking will. I hear coughing behind us and mom’s stumbling down the stairs and out the front door. I kinda wish she had died here.

Grandma comes walking in through mom and I run and hug her. It feels great to feel her instead of just see her.

“Let’s have dinner,” she says. “Yeah, I didn’t really eat anything,” I say. We all sit at the table and I hear someone clear their throat at the doorway. It’s Vaughn. Shit. Didn’t think of this.

“Does anyone know how to kill a dead person?” I ask.

My dad gives me a look that says, “Shut it,” and I roll my eyes. I guess I should just make peace with his existence. I did stab him in the chest 27 times. “Whatever,” I say. “Vaughn, come, sit,” Lacy says, and he does. “So,” Grandma says, “Who’s going to say grace?” The house collapses and the fire rages around us. I hear sirens somewhere out in the distance. “I’ll say it,” I say. “Thanks, Liz,” Dad says. “No problem,” I say.