Every single year, their questions remain the same.

So do my answers. And so does this godawful food. Boiled green beans and overcooked cabbage and a side of soggy mashed potatoes. How is it even possible to mess up mashed potatoes? That’s one of the most foolproof foods out there, along with cheese pizza and vanilla ice cream. And yet, every year, they manage to make it so it’s both gluey and mushy at the same time and has the texture of heavy vomit.

Insufferable, all of them.

I pick up my fork.

“So, Jackie,” my aunt starts, in that saccharine tone of hers, and it’s all I can do to repress a sigh. “I just met your sister’s boyfriend. Matt, right?” It’s Max, actually. Not that it matters. This family has never been one to pay much attention to things such as their guests first names and which comments make their niece’s skin crawl.

“Cool.” I take a reluctant bite off my plate. Somehow the food is extra terrible this year—the flavor has been effectively boiled out of literally everything, even the roast turkey.

“I think he’s a great guy. And it got me thinking, well, you’ve never brought a boy to Christmas dinner.” And, there it is. The very subject that everyone seems to hyperfixate on throughout the holiday season for some unfathomable reason: Jackie’s nonexistent love life. Not my studies, not my art, not my friends, not any of my accomplishments. I almost can’t decide which tradition is worse, the meal or this conversation.

“Yeah, well, I guess I’m just focusing on my studies right now.” Honestly, this food is disgusting. I don’t understand how it’s too hot and too cold.

“Come on, Jackie, you’ve been saying that for years,” my cousin Tina chimes in in her singsong voice. I shift in my seat. To think we used to be close, me and her, before she started dating and forgot about the rest of us.

“I’m just not interested.” My cheeks flush, and I curse internally, fidgeting with my napkin.

“Oh, don’t be all embarrassed,” my aunt continues. “I mean, everyone your age has had a boyfriend by now.” The whole table is looking at me now, smiling, expecting me to give in to their nagging. But there’s nothing for me to say. There never has. God, why can’t they just leave me alone?

Harsh tears burn in my eyes; I refuse to let them fall.

“I just don’t know, guys.” I finish my last few pulpy bites, and get up to put my plate in the sink.