Cake, anyone? Part 2

I was feeling pretty pleased with myself at that point. It was going to be a great day and I was partly responsible. Hurray for me. We returned to the house and unloaded all our groceries including the awesome discounted ice cream cake. As a reward for helping grandma do her shopping, she gave me something out of her refrigerator to eat for lunch. I was in such a great mood that I ate it after only mild inspection. I did cook the crap out of it in the microwave though - just in case. I obviously wasn't thinking clearly, because I should have realized that by assisting in obtaining the ice cream cake I was silently agreeing to stay for dinner as well.

"Are you staying for dinner?" my local aunt asked me.
"Um. Yes, sure. I guess I am."
"Then can you help your uncle load the rental truck so I can take my husband shopping for what we need for dinner tonight?"
"Um. Yes, sure. I can do that."

Damn. It wasn't so terrible, though. Most of the furniture had already been loaded and I had assisted on a few of the larger items already. Nothing that was left to load was all that heavy. The remaining pieces were just large and awkward. We also took alot of breaks, like when it started raining and after I climbed over everything to secure straps and ropes. I talked to my visiting uncle quite a bit. I can't remember ever having an actual conversation with him, which might explain why I became hysterical when he asked:

"So, what's new with you?"
"Since when?" I asked. "Since the last time we talked? I'm not sure we have time for all that."

We talked about the things I had been learning in truck driving school and we exchanged war stories from our lives as middle management in the wonderful world of retail. It was shocking and surprisingly enjoyable being able to relate and discover this common ground between us. Grandma joined us at one point after receiving a phone call updating her on the status of one of our senior relatives. She was in the hospital my sister worked at.

"What floor does your sister work on?"
"The shittiest one according to the stories she tells me when she comes home every morning."
"Oh, come on. Gut en Haben. What number?"
"I don't know. It's the shittiest floor, whatever number that is."
"Well... So-and-so was on the ninth floor but they moved her to the second floor. You think that's good? Does that mean she's getting better?"
"I don't know. Why don't you ask one of the many functioning nurses in this family? I guess that sounds right. I mean, the closer they put you to God, the closer you probably are to meeting him. Right? So, lower floor probably means she's getting closer to the lobby and she's closer to getting the hell out of there. I have no idea, though. Maybe."

Actually, no. My sister later informed me that the closer you are to the lobby, the worse off you are. In case of an emergency like a fire, they want all of the most critical patients closer to the ground floor to make evacuation easier. The healthier patients are all put on the top floor and left to fend for themselves during the catastrophe. Which makes more sense than my "closer to God" theory, but we didn't have that information at the time and everyone seemed pretty content to believe mine.

When my local aunt and uncle returned, I could tell my aunt was already pissed off. She was very short with everyone and she was talking to herself. I immediately regretted agreeing to stay for dinner. They unloaded their groceries and my local uncle fired up the grill to begin making kielbasa and porkchops. My aunt and cousin began making side dishes in the kitchen. My grandmother had been talking about getting grandpa out of the basement and outside for hours previous to that point. I would have helped make that happen, but I'm not entirely sure how the pieces of the impromptu ramp fit and stay together. I'm also not entirely comfortable using a winch on living things, especially people I happen to be related to. So, now that the creators of the transportation system had returned, my grandmother began working on them.

"Your father would love it if he could sit outside and see everything that's going on."
"Do you want me to do that or make dinner? Because I could just go home."
"Oh, well. I just thought..."
"I have no problem leaving and someone else can do all this. You wanted this dinner!"

My grandmother, having been confronted, retreated in her typical fashion and began the process of shunning everyone. Since I had been stuck in the kitchen and had witnessed the event, my aunt turned to me.

"What do you think?"
"I... honestly don't care either way. I can leave, too. I can eat at home. It doesn't matter to me at all."
"I can't do everything."
"I know. She's been talking about it the entire time you were gone though."
"Well, tough shit. I can only do so much."

I also decided to retreat to a quiet place outside to smoke and text my sister who was missing the eventful day.

"She's probably going to poison the food." she replied when I caught her up to the most current event.

I returned to the house and kitchen to find most of the preparations for dinner were complete. Everything just had to finish cooking. My local uncle bounced between the grill outside and the oven inside. My local aunt had relinquished all cooking responsibilities to him. She sat angrily nursing her newborn. I wanted to do something to help out, but I didn't want to step on any toes. I decided I would clear off and set the table, but no one would give me a definitive answer as to where we would be eating. Both the dining table and the picnic table on the front porch were piled high with boxes of random bullshit. It would be quite an ordeal to clear off either and there was no way to tell if the shit belonged here or if it was supposed to be packed up in the rental truck. It was exhausting to even think about it, so I gave up. My local aunt had been muttering and then she finally spoke out loud and to me.

"I'm not going to eat tonight. Is that weird? I made all the food, but I won't eat it. Is that weird?"

I immediately recognized the tone. My mother uses that tone when she's insane about something. It's not really a question. It's a test which is worse. If you answer in the manner that she wants you to, you are given immunity to the current emotional shit storm and recognized as an ally. If you answer in any other way, you are immediately added to the ranks of the enemy in the current raging battle. I am quite familiar with how to play these games, but I haven't actively engaged in them in quite some time. I believed I could still manage it, so I made my best effort.

"No, it's not weird. When I used to work in the food service industry, I used to spend the better part of nine hours making food for other people. By the end of the day, I was so sick of seeing, smelling, and touching food that eating any of it was the very last thing I wanted to do. So, no. It's not weird. I totally understand." Most of which is a lie, because I'd still be hungry and I would eat after that every day. But, I can be fairly persuasive and cunning. So, whatever. The ends justify the means, I suppose.

"Good. I didn't think so." After a brief pause and a look around she added, "I didn't poison any of the food. I'm going to eat it tomorrow. I'm just not hungry tonight." Then she went upstairs to hide out for the rest of the night. I sat there not entirely sure what to believe at that point. Why did she have to say that? Now I had serious doubts about whether she did poison something or not. I did eat when dinner was ready, though. I guess I'm reckless like that. The children and grandparents also ate. None of my aunts and uncles did. My visiting uncle was still loading the rental truck. My local uncle had disappeared somewhere. My local aunt was hiding upstairs. My visiting aunt hadn't returned from her visit yet. My grandmother and I were alone in the kitchen. She was making a plate for grandpa and I was making a take home plate for my sister.

"What is that sound? Is the farmer working the field next door?"
"Sounds like it. That's definitely a tractor, but it sounds a little closer than it should be."

I also made myself a second plate and sat down at the cluttered kitchen table to eat it. Then I saw him. My local uncle was riding the lawn mower around the yard. He wasn't eating because he was now mowing the lawn. My visiting aunt returned and instead of getting her husband to stop and join her for dinner, she joined him with loading up the rental truck. That's when I realized every single one of these people was completely insane. I honestly didn't even care about the damn ice cream cake at that point. I was ready to leave. But, my grandmother insisted we serve it even though only half of the people there had eaten dinner. We brought the cake outside to the picnic table. She had gathered tiny plates, spoons, and a butter knife for me to cut the frozen solid cake with. Of course she would, why not? Why bring me an actual knife that was the appropriate size and suitably sharp and thick enough for the act at hand? I shouldn't expect that on this day.

"So... who wants cake, then?"

No one answered. I sighed. I was getting to my own personal breaking point now. The novelty of my dysfunctional and extended family had worn off. I started cutting pieces of cake. I probably cut 10 to 12 pieces of it. I arranged them on the table and selected one for myself. No one else did. I was beyond caring. I ate the cake too fast and gave myself a delightful ice cream headache which only added to the migraine they had given me already. I then selected a piece for my sister and started toward the house to wrap it in tinfoil and deposit it in the freezer until I was ready to leave - which would be not soon enough, honestly. But, I didn't make it that far. The phone rang. It was my mother. Grandmother allowed me to complete my current objective before handing me the cordless. Naturally, at this point everyone suddenly decided they were on board with the whole dinner and celebratory ice cream cake scenario. They also became very loud. I tried to find a quiet place to use the phone, but every time I almost found one it began to roar with static and threatened to cut out. It was obnoxious even trying to have a conversation at that point, so we gave up. My mother was very tired anyway and I was aggravated.

After the phone call, I gathered up all the food for my sister - I took alot more than I had originally intended since no one was eating anything and I decided it was their own damn fault and it was just too fucking bad for them because they had ample opportunity and I no longer gave shit if they ate anything at all - and said my hasty goodbyes. I was never happier to leave anywhere than I was then.