it's always bad. always! it's like clockwork, because it happens every year. every year, some shitty jokes or comments, questions, you try to keep your head down at the table, just quietly eat the turkey. you've come back anxious and upset after your uncle told his wife to get over almost being raped and learn to work with the guy, even when home alone with him, where the first attempt happened.
nothing absolves them. but this time you had a thigh to place a hand on, someone to laugh and sing with on the way back home. no matter what was said at dinner, nobody could take that away. she was there for you the whole time. and you've never loved her more.
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