Special K and I needed a break from the thanksgiving menagerie, so we stepped outside for a cigarette. In the back yard, the auxiliary outdoor kitchen was set up underneath a plastic canopy that my brother and I had bought for my father on a previous birthday. It was intended to be used for car camping, but it worked well to shield the various turkey-deep-frying, oyster-shucking, wine-drinking and cigar-smoking activities from the drizzling rain. It also seemed to serve as the impromptu patriarchal gathering place, the “men’s club” of this particular family event. K and I lit our cigarettes and stepped under the canopy. I re-introduced her to my father, who in turn introduced her to my cousin C, a man who, to put it delicately, often requires some amount of patience. Either that or a matching twisted sense of humor. The ensuing conversation went something like this:

C: Oh, so you two are… (insert vaguely lewd hand gesture, signifying “togetherness” here.)
K: (chuckling) No, no. We’re just good friends.
C: Oh, uh-huh, I see (rolling eyes). It’s one of those things.
K: No, really. We’re very close, but not in that way. We’re just friends.
C: (looking at me) Geez, Zach, are you ok with this? I mean, she doesn’t seem to be taking your relationship very seriously.
Me: Um, what exact part of “just friends” did you not understand? Is it that hard to fathom? Are we speaking in tongues? Wait, don’t answer that.
C: I mean, don’t get me wrong, I understand about denial. But really, you guys should get help or something.
K: (turning to me, smirking) What the hell is wrong with him?
My Dad: So how ’bout this weather were having, eh?

We’d finished our smokes and somehow ended the cyclical line of questioning, and were walking back into the house. The rain was coming down harder now, and the chill in the air was making some serious inroads through our layers of jackets and scarves. “I really like your family, Zach. They’re funny. Your cousin, though…”
     “Yeah, it’s best not to take anything he says even remotely seriously. You’ll get less offended that way.”
     “I mean, why on earth does he care so much whether or not we are sleeping together?”
     “Frankly, I’m more comfortable not speculating about that. I suspect I wouldn’t really want to know the answer.”