The Institution

Chapter 21: Thanksgiving Dinner Disaster

As you might have already guessed, I'm not the most personable individual in the world.  I don't usually fare well in uncomfortable social situations.  And Thanksgiving dinner at the McCorvey's house with Arthur's parents and younger brother was exactly that- uncomfortable.

First of all, Arthur's father Tom is a force to be reckoned with.  He's loud, he's opinionated, and he's intimidating- after seeing all of the dead animals and guns upstairs I was very twitchy when I was in his company.  Second, I found that I couldn't hold a conversation with him to save my life.  The feeling must have been mutual, because after I told him that I don't play any sports he didn't seem too interested in talking to me anymore. 

Parents are supposed to teach their kids the basics when it comes to formal dining.  I'm not exactly sure where my mother went awry, but my social skills and etiquette at the formal dinner table leave much to be desired.  This became obvious the moment we sat down at the table that afternoon in the fancy dining hall. 

The feast looked and smelled delicious.  I immediately helped myself to a generous serving of turkey, mashed potatoes, green bean casserole, peas, and cranberry sauce and was about to stuff my face when I noticed that nobody else had picked up their forks yet.  Instead they were all watching me.  Arthur, who was sitting across from me, was looking particularly glum. 

"Shall we pray?" Arthur's mother said once I'd finished serving myself, a note of disgust in her voice.  She folded her hands over her empty plate, bowed her head, and closed her eyes.  Everyone copied her but Arthur, who shot me a warning look.  Chastised, I obediently arranged my hands over my plate.

"Dear Lord," she started, "You have blessed us with this wonderful meal, with this wonderful family and home, and wonderful friends...." I grimaced at the drawn out word.  "There are many things that we should be thankful for this year, among them, our continuing membership at the Country Hills Golf and Country Club...." 

Normally when I'm at the table and somebody starts to pray I close my eyes and start imagining things, like how long it would take for me to somersault to New York City or why there isn't a mouse flavored cat food.  This time, I found myself pondering why Arthur has never told me that his family is religious.  A little forewarning might've been nice.  I could have brushed up on my knowledge of the Catholic Church before the holiday.  There must be a Praying for Dummies book out there somewhere.  I suppose it did make sense though, now that I think about it.  Arthur hasn't come out to his parents yet.  He's told me how they aren't supportive of homosexuality and gay rights; perhaps it is because it goes against their religion.

".... Amen," Arthur's mother finished. 

"Hear, hear!"  I said jovially, and eagerly picked up a fork.  I say 'a fork' instead of 'my fork' because there were three forks on the left side of my plate.   I had no idea which one to use, nor did I understand why anybody would need so many forks for one meal.  After a brief moment of deliberation I chose the biggest fork, because that way I could shovel as much food into my mouth as possible with a single bite.      

The table was silent but for the scraping of cutlery against fine china.  Arthur, for once, was demonstrating impeccable table manners; he had a napkin in his lap, he was sitting up straight in his chair, and he was chewing with his mouth closed.  I was shocked.  I had no idea he was capable of eating like a civilized human being, not when his regular manners resembled those of a caveman.

"So... Ethan," Arthur's father began.  "What brings you to the University of Kentucky?"

I swallowed a large mouthful of potatoes.  "Well..." I began hesitatingly.  "I'm not really sure, to be honest.  I applied and for some reason they let me in."