Chapter 6 - The Reunion Disaster
Two weeks later, the date of the annual family reunion arrived.
For the first time in seven years, David, Liam, Max, and I were not boarding a flight to Oregon. Instead, we drove down to a beautiful, private beach resort in San Diego for our own family vacation.
I had turned off all social media notifications, but I kept my brother Chris unblocked just in case of genuine emergencies.
On Saturday morning, while sitting by the resort pool watching Liam happily splash around in his arm floaties, my phone vibrated.
It was a text from Chris: You win, Nora. The reunion is an absolute disaster.
I looked at the text, then sent back a single question mark: ?
Chris began sending a barrage of updates.
Without my meticulous preparation, the Oregon trip had descended into absolute chaos.
Chelsea had forgotten to organize the grocery delivery service I always set up, meaning twelve people arrived at a secluded compound at 8:00 PM with no food, finding every local market closed.
She had miscalculated the room counts, forcing my parents to sleep on a pull-out couch in the main living room because my sister refused to give up the master suite.
To make matters worse, without my detailed itinerary keeping the kids occupied with scheduled activities, my nieces and nephews were bored, fighting constantly, and throwing tantrums.
Chris sent a photo: My mother was sitting at the massive dining table, surrounded by unwashed dishes, looking utterly miserable.
Chris texted: Mom tried to cook dinner for everyone last night and burned the main course because she didn't know how to operate the compound's commercial oven. Chelsea threw a glass of wine against the wall during an argument about who owed what for the rental car. Dad drove to a motel two hours ago and said he's taking an early flight home.
I looked at the photo of my mother sitting among the chaos.
A year ago, I would have panicked. I would have called the property manager, ordered emergency catering from my laptop, transferred money, and spent three hours playing therapist to smooth everything over.
Now, I felt entirely detached.
I typed back: Hope you guys enjoy the rest of the week.
David walked over, holding two tropical drinks, handing one to me. "What's happening in Oregon?"
"The house is falling apart, Chelsea is breaking glasses, and Dad went to a motel," I smiled, taking a sip of my drink.
David raised his glass. "It's amazing how fast the castle collapses when you stop holding up the walls."
"Look, Mom!" Liam shouted from the pool, holding up a blue plastic dive ring. "I caught the blue dragon ring!"
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"Awesome job, buddy!" I called back, smiling with pure warmth.
I looked at my son—safe, loved, and miles away from people who viewed his wonderful, unique brain as an embarrassment.
