It was like my granddad had passed gas in church.
My father’s face pinched, his head shook, and finally he said, “Chet, what does that have to do with anything?”
My grandfather looks at him for a minute, then quietly says, “Juli’s father has a retarded brother, and—”
My father interrupts him with a laugh. “Well, that explains a lot, doesn’t it!”
“Explains… a lot?” my grandfather asks. Quietly. Calmly.
“Sure! It explains why those people are the way they are…!” He grins around the table at us. “Must run in the family.”
Everyone looks at him. Lynetta’s jaw drops, and for once she’s speechless.
My mother says, “Rick!” but all my father can do is laugh a nervous kind of laugh and say, “It was just a joke!
I mean, obviously something’s wrong with those people. Oh, excuse me, Chet. I forgot. The girl reminds you of Renée.
“Rick!” my mother says again, only this time she’s mad.
“Oh, Patsy, please. Your father’s being overly dramatic, trying to make me feel bad for criticizing our neighbors
because there’s a retarded relative someplace.
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