Before I head downstairs to the dorm kitchen, where Chris and I will be baking pies, I decide to make one phone call. James. This will be the first Thanksgiving that I won’t see my brother, and while that feels awful, I also think it might be for the best. He texted me last week to tell me that he’s going to his girlfriend’s house, and I’m relieved that he’ll be with someone’s family, if not ours. Or what’s left of ours. We have no grandparents, no cousins.… There is only our aunt, Lisa, and I’m pretty much done with her.
As I dial his number, I vow to rebuild our family, even if it’s just me and James. It’s not about numbers, it’s about quality, and somewhere, in the wake of destruction, we’ll recover the relationship that he and I used to have.
He answers on the third ring. “Hey, Blythe.”
“Hi.” My voice is chipper this time. It’s been weeks since we’ve spoken or communicated beyond short information-only texts and e-mails, and my only goal is to have this call end in something besides tears. “I just wanted to wish you a happy Thanksgiving.”
“Thanks. You, too.” He does not sound pissy, which is a good start.
“You’re going to your girlfriend’s house?”
“Yeah. She lives one town over, and her parents invited me since I didn’t have anywhere to go.”
I take a breath, feeling a wave of guilt even though I know he doesn’t mean to bait me. “I’m sorry about that. But it’s good you’ll have a real house to go to. What’s your girlfriend’s name again?”
“Angie.”
“Right. Angie. Have you met her parents already?”
“No. We’ve only been dating for a month or whatever. I’m kind of dreading it, but she promises me that they’re normal.”
“If she’s inviting you home, they can’t be that bad or she wouldn’t let you meet them.”
“That’s true.” He pauses. “Blythe, do you think I’m supposed to wear a suit?”
“I doubt it. Maybe a dress shirt and tie? You better just ask Angie. What if they’re all wearing jeans and football jerseys? You don’t want to show up in formal wear.”
He actually laughs. “True. I’ll ask. What are you doing tomorrow?”
“Having dinner with some friends in the dorm. It has a kitchen and a lounge, and we’re going to do what we can to make it festive. My friend Eric has a huge menu planned, so we’re just going to follow orders and hope we don’t get in trouble if we forget to fold the napkins into turkeys or whatever.”
“And definitely don’t forget to take the paper package of guts out of the turkey,” he says.
Now I laugh. “Remember how pissed Mom was when Dad did that? And to make matters worse, he cooked it upside down.”
“Right, because he said his instincts took over and he was positive it would produce a juicier dinner.” I can tell James is smiling, and it’s a great feeling.
“I don’t recall it tasting any different, do you?”
“No. Although it looked freaky when he brought it to the table.”
“And Mom threw a kitchen towel over it so that we wouldn’t lose our appetites!”
It’s the first time we’ve reminisced about our parents since they died. This is a small moment, and yet a huge moment.
“James? I wish that Lisa had given us more notice that she was going to be out of town for Thanksgiving.” I pause. “I’m pretty pissed.”
He perks up. “I know, right? What the hell is wrong with her?”
“I mean, what did she think we were going to do?”
“She didn’t think. She never thinks about us.”
James and I have never acknowledged what a completely insensitive moron Lisa is. Until now. “Seriously. Did she… Did she tell you about the house? Mom and Dad’s?” I ask.
“In an e-mail. Can you believe her? What a bitch.”
We spend fifteen minutes tearing apart our aunt. It’s mean, but awesomely fun because we are on the same side of something.
