Rebecca was eating and talking on one of the couches with another female. She told me to sit with them and introduced me. She introduced me to the people near us. She wasn’t a networker in the office, but she was more skilled here, similar to how she was at her own party, although that was understandable because the guests there were her friends.
There was a table near the kitchen with food on top of it, like at the Yankees game, including the hareis, but all the guests served themselves, so I did the same. The food was not the Thanksgiving food I previously read about, which slightly disappointed me, but there were fish and vegetable pies and dishes I believe were Latin American.
Cynthia made everyone laugh and transferred between guests frequently. She reminded me slightly of my mother, who was also a robust host. I briefly considered asking Jefferson later if he wanted to meet her, but his interest in Japan was not 100 % positive, and for him to meet Cynthia merely because she was Japanese was parallel to when I thought it wasn’t Barron’s house also because she was Japanese.
Barron was more like my father. He talked to a few of the guests at the party but remained in his seat, except at one point when he tickled his daughter, Michelle, which amused me, although of course I was not the target of the tickling. When I said hello to him, he shook my hand and thanked me for coming. This was more like my father when I was much younger. I don’t remember the last time we had a party in our apartment.
I said, “I would like to thanks-give to you and your family for inviting me.”
Barron’s brother was next to him. “Thanks-give?” he asked as he laughed at me.
Barron turned to him with a look I had never seen on his face. “Shut the hell up,” he said quietly. Then he said to me, “That suit still looks sharp on you,” and I thanked him, but he was incorrect, as it was in fact a different suit from the one I wore in the car, although he was correct in that it did look sexy on me. I felt enhanced until I saw his gray sweater had a small hole under the shoulder.
Several people enjoyed the hareis, and although the other children drank soda instead, Michelle repeatedly requested more of my juice.
I didn’t talk with Rebecca because Cynthia asked me much about Qatar and I also talked to a female social worker named Ana, who was originally from the Dominican Republic and who sometimes partnered with Cynthia’s law firm. She asked me, “Have you had any trouble assimil — have you had any trouble adjusting to life here?”
I said, “I have had some difficulties assimilating and acclimating, but I am not having a very hard time dealing.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to imply you didn’t know that word,” she said.
“No harm, no foul,” I said. “I did know it, but I enjoy learning new words.”
Right after I said that, Cynthia said we should all play a game called Taboo. She explained the rules, which require a person to provide clues for his teammates to guess a specific word or phrase, but the person cannot state five other words, e.g., if the word is “baseball,” you cannot say: “sport,” “game,” “pastime,” “hitter,” or “pitcher.”
I would be very poor at this game, because I didn’t even know the word “pastime,” and if I didn’t know the censored words then I wouldn’t know the non-censored words either, and I would humiliate myself in front of everyone and Rebecca. So when Cynthia said we had an odd number of adults, I said I would not play. Rebecca tried to make me partner on her team, but I said I preferred to play with the children.
As the adults set up the game, I asked the children, “Who wants to play a game?”
All seven children approached me, and I said I had a fun game called Sleep Handshake. I explained the rules: “All the players walk around and shake hands, and one person also scratches one other person’s hand with his finger,” I said. “After several seconds, that other person ‘falls asleep.’ The other players must observe and guess who is the ‘sleeper.’” I used to play this game with Zahira and her friends to teach them analytical skills of observation.
“I know that game,” one of the older children said. “It’s not called Sleep Handshake. It’s called Murderer. And you don’t fall asleep. You die.”
“No,” I said. “That is a different game. In this game you merely fall asleep. Now I will choose a sleeper.” I shook everyone’s hand and scratched Michelle’s hand.
While we played, I listened to the adults play Taboo. They were all laughing and shouting with friendly competition. Because I am an adept multitasker with low-level problems, I studied the various strategies they used. The weaker players tried to describe the clues in elongated ways, but the stronger players, like Rebecca and Cynthia, used outside-the-box thinking to innovate clues and were more efficient.
The children enjoyed themselves as well, and at one point I saw Rebecca looking at us. Soon one of the adults said he had to leave.
“Karim, we need a sub,” Rebecca said.
Michelle put another child to sleep. “The children require supervision.”
“They’ll be fine,” Cynthia said. “Barron, move your fat ass.”
I was on the same team as Rebecca, which relieved me, as I didn’t want my teammates to become upset if I failed, and Rebecca was not the class of person to do that.
I studied more intensely as the other players provided clues, and because of that I didn’t try to answer any clues. I was very nervous just before my turn, but then I became calm when I remembered I must think outside the box, which is easy for me.
My first phrase was “Holiday Inn.” I could not say “hotel,” “motel,” “vacation,” “room,” “lodge.” I said: “A place you reside in overnight; non — work schedule plus non-out.”
Immediately Rebecca said “Holiday Inn!”
I used a similar strategy for the next phrase, “World Series” (I said “global iterations,” although I almost said “I attended this athletic event with Mr. Schrub”), and again Rebecca guessed it. When she correctly answered my third clue, Barron said, “You two married or something?” and I was slightly humiliated but remained focused.
My team guessed eight of my clues, which was the most of anyone, and Rebecca claimed responsibility for five of them. She was across from me, but she made her mouth move mutely so I could understand the words: “Nice job, Karim.”
It was strange to hear this compliment outside of the office, but it felt as good as when a higher-up praised me at work.
And I didn’t wish I was at Mr. Schrub’s house anymore.
The one time that was false was a few minutes after the game, when my stomach became turbulent. Probably it was from the large quantities of different foods I had consumed. I perspired, and Rebecca even asked if I was all right, and I said I was and that I had to make a telephone call, but instead I went to the restroom and turned on the water loudly so no one would hear me. I finished the toilet paper before I was completed, which panicked me, but then I located more under the sink.
We stayed until the other guests started leaving, and then Rebecca again moved her mouth to ask “Should we go?” I moved my mouth to say, “This is a strategic juncture to depart,” but she didn’t understand, so I nodded.
Because it was a holiday there were almost zero commuters. Rebecca talked nonstop about how much she had enjoyed it and continued thanking me for inviting her.
We reached Rebecca’s platform for the G train, which was empty. She again thanked me, and I said, “That is the sixth time you have thanked me.”
“I guess I’m a little thrown off by a Thanksgiving that doesn’t end in mutual recriminations fueled by gallons of cheap red wine,” she said.
We stood there for a few seconds without saying anything, and I heard her train approaching, and I said, “It is unsafe for you to travel home tonight because there are very few passengers. I will accompany you to your subway stop.”