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My Sister’s Dinner Guest Kevin plucked the u-shaped bone from the turkey’s scraps and held it out to me. “Make a wish,” he said. I wish you loved me instead. I squinted with concentration. Love me, love me, love me. As he held one end, I gripped the other and was electrified to feel the hairs of his knuckles brushing mine. He counted to three, and we pulled until we heard a tiny snap. I beamed at the curved piece between my fingers. With mock indignation at his defeat, Kevin’s eyes widened and his mouth formed the letter O. As I watched, though, one of his dimples slowly appeared, causing blood to rush into my ears. “Oh, look,” my sister, Grace, said, examining our pieces. “Sandy won. What did you wish for?” My father looked up from his plate. “Hey, don’t ask her that. It’s bad luck to tell.” “Oh, come on. She’s nine,” Grace said. “So what was it? The Surf’s Up Barbie Doll? A new Wii game?” I glared at her, then down at the brittle, broken wishbone. It was oily and still had strings of meat hanging from it. “Yeah,” I replied. “Just a new game.” “That’s cool. Maybe you’ll get it for Christmas,” Kevin said, tossing the smaller piece onto his plate, already turning his attention back to Grace. She said something about me not having any patience, how I couldn’t wait for Christmas. He laughed softly, both dimples marking his perfect face. His dark eyes fell on me as he said, “I’m that way, too.” I spoke toward the salt shaker, my face burning. “What did you wish for, Kevin?” “It’s bad luck to tell,” my father repeated more insistently. “Ahhh,” Kevin said, and his arm moved up and down. He must have patted Grace’s leg under the table. “I already got it.” My mother grinned; Grace tilted her head shyly; my father ate another bite of stuffing; I stared. While the others talked about holiday commercialism and whether the stuffing was moist enough, I gently pulled all of the debris from the bone and dabbed it with my napkin. I slipped it into my pocket and wished for patience.
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