The Junk Drawer - Where every perfect household hides unsightly things.

Their grand house was once again postcard perfect…

Thanksgiving dinner at Bill and Judy Zimmerman’s promised to be another magnificent affair. Tiny holiday lights adorned the tall plants by the fireplace in the cathedral ceilinged living space. Warm lighting from undercarriage spots glowed in every room. A computer somewhere played soft music at just the right volume through unseen speakers. Family photos on every wall and available surface proudly displayed all the grandparents and fathers and mothers, cousins, dear friends and loved ones; the rich tapestry of a beloved lineage. Families gathered tonight would be constantly reminded of those that came before, the lives well lived, and the promise of their own lives merrily in progress. 

Billie, their oldest, had made it in with her husband and their new baby. Bill and Judy were blessed that she chose to live nearby, just outside Atlanta. Bill’s brother Kenny, sister-in-law Jill and one of their nephews made the trip. The Weber’s, neighbors and lifelong friends, were always great company and very competitive whenever the board games started. Judy’s divorced sister Claire and her new boyfriend drove in from Savannah and would stay over until Saturday. And before the bird went in the oven, Judy got up extra early to go get Bill’s uncle Charlie from his tiny apartment thirty miles away. She knew she’d need to carefully manage her elderly uncle-in-law, who drank a bit and didn’t mix well with people anymore.

A festive afternoon of wine, games, loud cross talk, and the welcoming smell of a basting turkey slowly turned to early evening. Bill’s commanding voice, laughing and passing facetime greetings around the house from friends near and far, ran all day in parallel with Judy holding court in their open kitchen, her monologues told as if from a stage while prepping sides with Jill and Billie’s help. Like stirring a stew, this was their not-so-secret ingredient to happiness - never-ceasing joyful activity.

The only dissonant sounds in the house came from the back room. Uncle Charlie and his jug-sized bottle of chianti watching the late afternoon NFL game with young Sam, the crowd noises with an announcer's voice calling the action from somewhere.  

“Sam, honey, come to the table. We’re about to say grace.” Jillie yelled over the TV to her son while helping pull out high back dining room chairs, then smiled as she remembered. “Bring Uncle Charlie with you.”

Bill could be heard ending another call, showing off the Zimmerman’s no doubt award-winning Thanksgiving table to someone on his phone. Twelve souls were making their way to sit. Judy called out from the kitchen, “Kenny, start by telling everyone about that new job. I just need another two minutes. Sam, carry Charlie’s wine for him. I don’t want him spilling it. And Billie, I need you in here for just a minute.”

Billie was out of her seat before Judy finished the sentence. Everyone noticed the music volume rise subtly, perfectly regulated to the rooms changing energy. 

“Mom, come on, everybody’s…”

“I just gotta clean this up before we start.” Judy meticulously wiped the island countertop clean. “Honey grab those papers and that miscellaneous junk and stuff it in the big drawer.” Billie moved in sync with her OCD mother. She stuffed two unopened bills, a retirement home brochure and a grocery list in the junk drawer. “You know Bill hates to see clutter.”  

Billie smiled. “And we don’t need Uncle Charlie seeing this.”

“I think it’s soon time. After we get him home tomorrow, I’m gonna talk to your dad about that.”

At the sound of Kenny’s voice hitting the key point in his prompted story, Judy pivoted.  “There…all set now.”  She turned off the kitchen overhead lights in favor of the island pendants.  The kitchen appeared once again ready for its close up. “Let’s eat.”

Bill rose from the head of the table, raised his wine glass and prepared to speak, but Judy interrupted. “Where’s Uncle Charlie?”

Sam looked frustrated. “Six seconds ‘til halftime, Panthers are trying a field goal.”

“I’ll get him. You’d think once a year…” Judy was incredulous.

Suddenly appearing from around the corner, managing a four-footed cane, Charlie ambled into the room. “Jesus Christ the idiot missed it. Hell, I coulda kicked that thing through the…these guys are hopeless.” Sam instinctively rose to pull out his chair. 

“Thank you.” Charlie parked his cane and navigated his frail frame into the highback. “And thank you my boy for carrying the wine. His eyes narrowed as he glared at Judy. “Can’t be too careful, I suppose.”

As the emotional temperature adjusted back to Zimmerman normal, Bill launched into an elaborate Thanksgiving toast, going around the table so everyone could give thanks for something. There were new jobs and newborn babies and favorable medical tests and memorable trips that got spirited shout-outs. All the while, everyone couldn’t help but notice Charlie poking at the turkey platter.

“Charlie!” Judy always used an elevated voice when seeking the attention of her husband’s elderly uncle. “You haven’t gone yet. What are you thankful for this year?”  

Charlie didn’t look up. “Ya know I only eat the dark meat so where’s that a hidin’?” A light chuckle encircled the table. Charlie studied the turkey platter, seemingly at a loss. He looked down the length of the table, and then everyone broke out laughing. 

Charlie still knew how to play the room. “Oh yeah, my turn.” He kept them waiting, sipping his beloved chianti, then motioned above Judy’s head to a portrait on the dining room wall. Elaine, Charlie’s sister, who’d passed away eleven years ago, alongside her husband Jack. Bill’s mom and dad.

“She was….the kindest person I ever knew.” Charlie’s fixed gaze caused everyone to look up at the portrait, always in that room but rarely studied. They’d recently wed, and it looked as if it had been taken by a professional photographer. Their smiles seemed so true to place, time and circumstance.

Bill raised his glass. “To mom and dad. For making all this.”

Glasses went up. And within moments, the orchestrated sounds of moving platters and clinking tableware and a symphony of talking voices permeated the room. 

Uncle Charlie’s search for dark turkey meat intensified.

  ********

“Still awake?” Judy finally made it upstairs to find Bill sitting up in bed, reading glasses on, scrolling his phone. 

“Jillie posted pics from today.”  He looked less than pleased,

Judy grabbed a floss pick from the nightstand. “How do you think the day went?”

Her husband didn’t answer right away. “I just think she could have posted some of the ones you took. Look at this.” He handed her his phone. “Nowhere do you see everyone in one shot.”

Judy examined the picture carefully. “I think you get the idea that we had a full house.” She knew her husband well. She handed him back the phone and snuggled in. “Nice toast, by the way.”

Bill clicked off his phone and the nightstand light. “Let’s ask the Weber’s to come along to Billie’s on Sunday.” He kissed his wife and turned to sleep. Bill decided it was time to get to sleep. “Nice job today, honey. You really nailed everything about dinner.”  

Judy settled into her pillow, luxuriating in the day’s final compliment as she felt her extraordinarily disciplined husband fall into a deep sleep. Finally alone with her thoughts, she began making a mental list of exactly how the family would work through a few days of leftovers.  

There was suddenly an unmistakable stirring in the kitchen, the sound of something spilling. There were multiple guests in the house, but only one sleeping on the first floor. She slipped out of bed, put on a robe and went down the steps to investigate.  

“What in the world?” Judy shuttered at the unexpected scene. Uncle Charlie was hovered over the kitchen island. Left spotless right before bed, it was now covered in a tangled mess of crap from an overturned drawer.

Charlie didn’t look up. “Lookin’ for a phone charger.” He seemed unperturbed by her arrival. “Boy you gotta a lot a shit packed in this thing.”

“Charlie, we have phone chargers everywhere, including in your room. All you had to do was…”

“At some point honey you gotta sort stuff out. Can’t keep it like this, how ya gonna find anything?” Charlie was in the process of organizing items into piles; rubber bands and paper clips and coins and various electronic cables and power cords. Judy noted the retirement home brochure, unfolded and carefully set alone at the end of the counter. She knew better than to underestimate the faculties of her husband’s uncle, who seemed sharper than he presented to the world. 

She took a seat next to him, and would allow this charade to conclude at its own pace.

“Hell, I gotta nuff chargers for ten phones here, what do ya know!” He smiled, waiving the one he would take back to his room as he moved across the kitchen. “You did a great job with the dinner tonight.” He seemed to be looking for something on one of the walls. “Y’always outdo yourself, ya know.” Then his eyes found it. “Gotta lotta great pictures here on your walls. Boy you’d think we’re a royal family. Feels like a museum in here.”  

He stopped at the photo he was looking for. “Such great stories all these pictures tell. I remember this one.” Jack, Elaine and two other couples, all dressed up at some fancy event. “Way before you’re time honey. That’s me and my first wife there.”

Judy carefully played along. “You all look so happy.”

“Yeah, sure were.” Charlie looked at Judy.  About an hour after they took that, Jack beat the shit out of my sister…right in front of us.”  He smiled. “But right up to that point, the night was goin’ real nice.”

Judy’s eyes tightened as Charlie continued. “You never knew how things would go with Jack. Jekyll and Hyde, that one. Just when you let your guard down, he’d get real dark. Terrorized my sister some days, adored her others.”  

He walked back to the piles of junk. “But you know all about it.” 

Judy remained stock still as Charlie used an unsteady hand to slide the piles back into the upturned drawer. “We just keep all that buried. Hidden away.” He picked up the drawer and managed to align it and pop it onto the runners and close it in just one try, then he turned to her. 

“Like all this shit you got in here.”

Judy considered what to say next, but Charlie beat her to the punch. He picked up the retirement home flyer. They looked at each other, waiting for something to be said.

“I love my nephew like I love my own kids.” Charlie’s eyes appeared to well up. “Maybe even more, hell Billy did so much more with his life than my own kids did.”  

Judy placed her hand on Charlie’s forearm. “Why aren’t you two closer?  What happened?”

Charlie picked up the phone charger and smiled. “Ah honey, let’s not kid ourselves. You know why.” He held her arm to steady himself. “Every time Billy sees me, he sees the stuff he’s spent his whole adult life blockin’ out."

Charlie’s eyes wandered the room until he found the four-footed cane. Judy reflexively reached for the sink sponge to clean the countertop as her movement again brought her face to face with the crumpled retirement brochure. 

Charlie noticed and smiled. “Honey, you can put me away if I’m a burden. I’m old. Don’t really care one way or the other no more. Can’t drive, hell can’t do much any more.” Judy hung on his every word but could say nothing in reply, focused almost psychotically on cleaning the counter. 

“I can’t bury it no more. Too old. Too tired. Don’t have the energy you people have to keep movin’ so fast. Wife’s gone. I’m alone.”

Charlie’s voice was getting louder. Judy reached toward him but still couldn’t find words. “Can’t save him, honey. He won’t talk to me any more. But you could.”

A conversation Judy never wanted was suddenly and unexpectedly happening. 

“But you won’t. You’ll never do it.” Charlie clutched the phone charger in one hand and his cane in the other. “You’re just gonna help him keep his head stuck in the sand?” They stared long and hard at each other, and then Charlie began a slow walk down the hallway to his room. “That’s why he picked you, dear, you know.” Charlie’s voice softened almost to a whisper as he talked to himself. “You two are gonna keep movin’ like crazy circus people well I guess if you keep runnin’ you never have to think ‘bout things you don’t want to think about….”

As the door to Charlie’s room closed, Judy retrieved the retirement flyer as she finished cleaning the countertop. Tomorrow morning she and Bill would definitely have that conversation. 

Uncle Charlie needed more help now than they could give. It was time. He needed to go.

She flicked off the light and went upstairs.