A Cautionary Tail

Don’t blame Melissa for what follows.  It’s all my fault.

Uncle reclines full-bore at the far side of the room. Feet higher than his head, he looks like he’s about to undergo a root canal. Somehow, he keeps the wine from swirling out of the glass in his outstretched hand.

My aunt sits next to him, upright, a thin smile drawn on her face.

I watch from the couch while my cousin, who has perched himself next to me in an odd half-standing fashion, crunches on salted peanuts.

“The family curse, yes indeed,” my uncle says. My aunt’s smile melts a little. “You’ve heard of it, haven’t you?”

I’ve never heard of it. I’m about to say so, but then I stop. My family is already suspicious of me. They think that I hate them (which I don’t) and that I go out of my way to avoid them (which I do). If I admit to not knowing part of the family lore, I’m bound to get another one of those phone calls from my mother: “Figlio, why do you hate you’re own family? They love you. They’re so proud of you, a lawyer. Imagine! And all they ask for is a call on a birthday, and an anniversary card, and a visit, and a cake, and a car blah blah blah ZZZZZZZzzzzzzzzzzzzz.”

“The family curse? Yes Uncle. I know all about it.”

My wife’s eyes flash from a dark corner.

“Well then, you know what a pain in the ass it is.” The recliner squeaks and trembles under the weight of his chuckling belly. The white soles of his shoes stare at the room. My aunt leans close to his ear. “Dear …” she says quietly.

Suddenly, he slams the chair shut with a metallic pop. His ruddy cheeks shine in the lamp light. “What? We’re all family here, aren’t we?”

“I don’t think …”

“Carla, please. Look at your son. Look how miserable he is, sitting there like that. It’s ok to talk about it, that’s all I’m saying. We’re practically born with tails in this family. Pop used to say that it’s a punishment for something one of our ancestors did back in the Old Country, right? ”

His bloodshot eyes are staring right at me. What the hell is this man talking about?

“Makes sense,” I say.

“I’ve been telling your cousin here that he needs to get his tail under control, because the way he’s living now is no good. Nobody can live like that for long, right? You know what I’m talking about. You probably had one too. You probably had it surgically removed, like I did, right?”

He’s insisting that I play along. Damn. Let’s see. Tailstailstails. Hmmm. People in my family get them as a punishment. Hmmmm. It’s time for my cousin to change his ways. Hmmmmm.

My cousin is on drugs. That’s it. Uncle wants me to help him get into treatment or something. Fine. Whatever. I just want to go home.

“Yeah, I had a tail too, Uncle. Most of us do. And, at times it got a little wild, but, in the end, I cut it off. It wasn’t easy, but I did it.”

Everyone in the room looks at me. Nobody speaks. Maybe I didn’t say the right thing. I don’t know. Maybe I should say something else.

“It was painful, but I’m much happier now.”

Silence.

We leave soon after that. Relief.

“What in god’s name was that all about? I swear, I just come from a different planet than those people.”

“You really have no idea, do you?”

“No idea about what?”

“Honey,” she says, “your cousin has hemorrhoids.”