WE’VE BEEN AT THE BEACH for five days and we’ve just finished the annual crawfish-boil dinner. I’ve been waiting for an opportunity to catch Aunt Teresa alone. I want to ask a lot of questions. The newspapers have been thrown away along with the crawfish shells and corncobs. Megan says I’m now an official Cajun since I’ve learned to appreciate sucking the crawfish heads.
Corbin’s attention to his rabbit has given us a break from picking cards. He’s sitting on the floor next to the cage, watching his new pet, Lucky Dog.
Tristen stands and cracks his knuckles. “Ready for me to defend my King of Charades title?”
“Your what?” I ask.
“You’ve never played charades?” Megan is clearly baffled.
“No way, cuz!” Tristen shakes his head in mock shame. “Deprived!”
“I’ll bet Stevie has played chess,” Aunt Teresa says.
How did she know?
“Your daddy liked chess when he was a bitty boy,” she says. “Momma taught him. She’d take Sheppard to play with the old men at the country club in Alex. Made my daddy so mad. We weren’t even members. We didn’t have that kind of money. But that didn’t stop Momma when she got a notion in her head. Remember I told you she didn’t believe in rules? Then Sheppard went on to play in school. Won a lot of championships. You should see the trophies.”
“Yeah,” Tristen says. “He must have been something else. He won all over the state.”
Megan laughs. “One of his trophies says ‘Gumbo Chess King’!”
“Really?” I never knew Dad had won titles or competed in school.
“Trip to the attic,” Megan says. “That’s where Uncle Sheppard’s trophies are. Add it to the list, Daddy.”
Using his finger, Uncle Lloyd writes in the air. “Got it!” Then he says, “Yeah, your daddy played all the time until that kid moved into town. Whiz kid. Beat Sheppard bad with that funny move. I can’t remember what they called it. What was it called, Tristen?”
“Cherub mate?” I ask at the same time Tristen says it.
“You know the story?” he asks.
I’d always thought the tattoo on my dad’s belly represented the game that won the farm.
“Do you need to know the rules?” Tristen is standing now.
“Chess? No, I know those rules by heart.”
“No, cousin. Charades.” Tristen is punching his fist into his other palm, clearly ready to defend his title.
“But I’ve never played.”
“It’s easy, easy,” Megan begins.
Tristen interrupts, shaking his finger at Megan. “Ah-ah-ah. You’d better let me explain. You need to learn from an honest person.”
“Hey, now!” Megan puts her hands on her hips, pretending to be offended.
Corbin pops up from the floor and moves across the room until he stands directly in front of me. He rotates his fist like he’s cranking a camera. “This means movie.” He goes on to show the gestures for book and TV show.
Tristen explains, “You have to get the others to guess which title you’re acting out.”
“You can’t talk,” Megan adds.
“And that is why Megan always loses,” Tristen says. “She can’t keep her mouth shut.”
Megan throws her hands in the air. “Kill Tristen! Add that to the list, Daddy!”
Aunt Teresa is taking inventory in the refrigerator. “Don’t forget to add milk to the list.”
We crack up.
“Oh, Momma,” Megan groans.
Aunt Teresa turns around. “What?”
I study them. They’re laughing and talking at the same time. They’re like a well-fitting glove. And in that moment, I want so badly to be a part of them.