The only people who didn’t get my sister money or a sweater were my brother and I.
My brother promised to take her out one day to shop for college things like soap, which he would pay for,
and I bought her a little house that was hand-carved out of stone and painted in England.
I told her I wanted to give her something that makes her feel like she’s at home even after she goes away. My sister actually kissed my cheek for that.
But the best part of the party happened when my mother came to me and said I had a phone call.
I went to the phone. “Hello?” “Charlie?” “Sam!” “When are you coming over?” she asked. “Now!” I said.
Then, my father, who was drinking a whiskey sour, growled, “You’re not going anywhere until your relatives leave. You hear me?”
“Uh, Sam … I have to wait for my relatives to leave,” I said.
“Okay … we’ll be here until seven. Then, we’ll call you from wherever we are.” Sam really sounded happy.
“Okay, Sam. Congratulations!” “Thanks, Charlie. Bye.” “Bye.” I hung up the phone.
I swear to you, I thought my relatives would never leave. Every story they told. Every pig in a blanket they ate.
Every photograph they looked at, and every time I heard “when you were this high” with the appropriate gesture.
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