Assignment 14- Jasir Rahman- The Handshake

Thanksgiving traditions vary every year.  There is always a feast, but different guests accompany my nuclear family.  This year, it was my older sister's "friend"- or that's what we told my dad.  If you know anything about South Asian parents, know that relationships are never approved of... until they are.  Our whole lives, my siblings and I have known the expectations on relationships, they are not sanctioned by our father in any form, and yet, I anticipate that if we are not married by our late 20s my dad will ask why we haven't gotten married yet.  I just had to make sure that was squared away because it is kind of important to handle the awkwardness of the whole ordeal.

Noon.  My sister and I are working on heating up some pre-made food (which was a first for our family, and honestly, I would definitely recommend if you are crunched for time, have 2 working parents, or want to eat good food but you suck at cooking).  12:30, my sister's "friend" shows up.  12:45, my brother and Mom arrive, having gone to a club soccer practice the morning before.  My brother gets changed, and we engage in some classic awkward small talk in the kitchen.  We get a text from my dad, who is working at the hospital at the moment.  He says he's almost done with his consults, and he'll be on his way home soon.  He won't show up until 2:00 p.m.  1:00, my Mom pulls out some light refreshments in the form of Diet Coke and King's Hawaiian Rolls.  Small talk ensues.  We then decide to play a board game, my mom chooses an American history boardgame that we inexplicably have in my room.  We play for an hour, and the mood is lighter.  2:00 rolls around, and we sense a disturbance in the force.  The moment of truth has arrived.  Dad is here.

We set the table with urgency, for we are all quite hungry.  My dad comes in the door, we all say hello.  Unfortunately for the "friend," he goes for a handshake.  You never go in for the handshake during the first confrontation.  My dad awkwardly avoids physical contact with him, and waves awkwardly and is introduced to the "friend."  We sit down to eat.  My dad awkwardly makes a "dua," or I suppose in this situation the equivalent of saying grace, something we never do at the regular table.  I steal a glance at the "friend," who I know my dad is trying to make feel insecure, but he's holding strong just looking down.  We begin eating, discussing the quality of food mostly.  My dad asks this "friend" about his occupation.  He is a physical therapist.  Good, he is in the medical field.  The "friend" also discusses how his patients buy into the ridiculous notion of acupuncture.  That was a rehearsed line, as my dad thinks acupuncture is stupid, but while I see through the facade, my father likes it.  After dinner, my parents take a nap, and when they wake up almost 3 hours later, the "friend" is still here.  He is about to leave, and as he's about to be escorted by my sister to his car, my dad walks towards him, with his arm outstretched.  They shake hands.