“I’m never going to remember all of their names, and my willingness to do this just went down a notch or two.”
“I don’t know what you’re so worried about. We both know moms, sisters, and families all love you. It’s me that they don’t like. After twenty minutes, you’ll have them eating out of the palm of your hand.”
“That’s probably true.” I smell a gray long-sleeve shirt. It’s a little musty from days in my bag, but nothing a little cologne can’t solve. I throw it over my head and pull it down. “I’m going to the bathroom.” I point my finger at Justin as I pass. “You text Summer and tell her I’m coming.”
“Yeah, good idea.” He reaches for his phone in his back pocket.
I don’t really want to do this, and I know Summer isn’t going to like it. So it’s best if she knows beforehand what Justin has planned.
I don’t want any surprises.
Surprises make things awkward.
nine
SUMMER
So here’s the deal…It’s best to be honest and forthright upfront. I live my life by that motto. I really do. I planned to tell my parents as soon as I got to their house that Justin wasn’t coming, but when I walked through the door—alone—my mother immediately snipped, “I knew he wouldn’t come,” and something inside me cared more about not looking pathetic than being honest. So I lied.
“He’s coming.” I smile sweetly at her. “He’s just coming straight from work, so we decided to have him meet me here.”
“See, Janet”—my dad nods at my mom—“if Summer says Justin is going to be here, then he will. There’s nothing to worry about.” His smile lands on me, and I feel awful, as if I just told a six-year-old in the prime of his Christmas-magic life that there’s no way a reindeer could fly, let alone have a red nose that glowed.
But I smile back at my dad because I’m in too deep now and because I have a plan.
I’ll pretend to take a phone call in ten minutes and act like Justin got in a car accident, and that’s why he’s not here or coming at all. It’s lying but on a very low-grade level. Hedidget in a car accident two nights ago that detained him. I’m just fudging the dates a little bit.
I change the subject away from Justin, pointing at the uncooked turkey in the roaster pan in the middle of the kitchen island. It still has the netting and packaging on it, but I pretend to know its poultry value. “That looks like a good one.”
My dad beams. “Only the best for Thanksgiving.”
I lean my head down by the turkey, holding my phone out in front of me. I flip my hair, smile big at the camera, and take a selfie with me and the turkey. I send it to Justin, not saying anything with the picture because what would I say? He’s already made it clear and given me all the reasons why he can’t come. So I let the picture speak for itself and set my phone down.
“What can I help with?” I pull out a stool.
“You can mix the Caesar salad.” My mom pushes a bowl, a spoon, and a prepackaged salad bag in front of me.
I tear the bag open, dumping the lettuce into the bowl. “Where is everybody?”
“Carma’s right there.”
I whip around, noticing for the first time my great aunt, sitting at the kitchen table playing solitaire.
“Dang, two of diamonds,” she mutters, flipping three cards over. “Where are you hiding?”
“Erin’s family is out back, playing in the snow.” I spin back around just as my mom gestures to the kitchen window. “Hailey and Juliet both texted and said they’re going to be a few minutes late. And I haven’t heard from Anna yet.”
I glance at the oven clock, wondering when I should break the news that Justin got in a fender bender. It’s 6:25 p.m., and anything past 6:45 is going to make him seem really late and just give my mom more cause to hate him. So we’ll break the news at 6:42 p.m. The front door opens and slams shut, and immediately, the house is filled with excitement.
My nephews, Jack and Peter, run into the kitchen, each wearing one of those turkey feather paper hats that you make at school. “Grandma!” They run into my mom’s legs, wrapping their arms around her thighs.
She pats their backs. “Are those turkeys or my grandbabies?”
“I’m a turkey!” Peter releases his grip first and bounces around the kitchen like a pinball, and it doesn’t take long for Jack to join him.
“Sorry we’re late.” Anna plops an armful of two liters on the counter. “Lucy’s diaper leaked right as we were leaving. We had to take her out of the car seat and change her outfit.” Anna lowers her voice. “I think Jeff was in a hurry and put the diaper on wrong, and that’s why it leaked.”
“I heard that.” Jeff comes around the corner, holding ten-month-old Lucy.
