AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Some of us would like champagne with their turkey,” Sunny protested. “And yes—” she changed the subject “—Buster is smart. He’s got an application on him. I’ll do a home visit tomorrow and he’ll probably be all settled. Nice couple. No kids.”
“Good deal. I’ll open the wine.” Pete dug the corkscrew out of the correct drawer, first time. He knew Sunny’s house and grounds as well as she did.
Once they were all seated, Roger, as hungry as he was, asked to say a blessing. Constance dropped her phone and bowed her head to join in. She’d been cooking up a storm all morning, but now that the creative process was over, she looked deflated and worn out. Sunny almost asked her what was up; usually Cici was all about the food when a meal was on the table. She worked too hard to have people act distracted and ungrateful. But once the pleasant sound of forks clinking plates filled the air, she decided to let it go. This was their first holiday season celebrating without Daddy, and Constance’s first in three years without Josh.
Sunny’s gaze connected with the two empty chairs the men would usually occupy. She glanced at Constance and saw that her sister had been doing the exact same thing. Sunny offered a smile.
Constance just looked away.
“What’s that dinging sound?” Mel’s voice came from across the room, where Rhett had her on speakerphone. “Please tell me that’s not the microwave.”
“Okay.” Rhett pulled out his platter of turkey cutlets and mashed potato buds. “It’s not the microwave.” He threw a handful of kale, which he kept in the fridge for smoothies, on the plate.
“You skip coming home for your father’s beautiful Thanksgiving meal so you can microwave some trash?” Mama’s voice soared over Mel’s like a rocket launcher.
“You know how I love trash.” Rhett had learned long ago not to argue with Mama. You just couldn’t win. He drizzled some olive oil and vinegar on top of his kale. There. That should do it.
“Don’t you get smart with me. You’re not too old for me to go fetch the belt.”
Rhett sat at the table and faced his Thanksgiving dinner. “That’d be one hell of a long belt, Mama.” Not to mention, Rhett couldn’t recall one single time in his life being hit by that belt. He was convinced that Mama used it as a tool to get her children to run like crazy. Not only would they get exercise, they’d get out of her hair and stay far away for hours. At least until the streetlights came on.
“Don’t listen to her,mijo.” Papa’s soft tone managed to ride over the women. His calm voice and gentle personality had always provided an anchor of stability for Mama’s storms. “If you want microwave food for Thanksgiving, that is your right. I’ll freeze some of what I make for you.”
Rhett had always wanted the softly accented English of his father, but no such luck. He could sound like Papa if he wanted to, but he had to fake it. Only when he spoke Spanish did they share that lyrical quality. Just listening to his father speak made his pulse slow. He was probably the only person Rhett could tell, “I woke this morning to the sound of Katyusha rockets, Papa,” and have him not react with shock and concern and orders to get into therapy.
“Did you,mijo?” Papa would say, his voice a salve on the old wounds.“Digame.”
But Rhett didn’t tell him that. They were on speakerphone, and everyone was listening. “How are you feeling, Papa? How’s the back?”
Papa made a dismissive noise. “It’s good.”
“It’s tight,” Mama chimed in. “More than usual. I told him he needs to retire, but you know how he is about his plants.”
“I’m not going to retire, Meara,” Papa said. “Not yet.”
Mama started a new protest but Rhett cut her off. “He doesn’t want to retire, Mama.” They had to stick up for each other. It was the only way to survive Mama’s determination to control everything. “And neither do I. Which is why I’m here for Thanksgiving. Christmas, too. I’ve spent my whole life in the marine corps and now I’m doing something else. I can’t get away.”
“Good for you, Rhett,” Papa said. “You do what you have to do. We support you.”
“But you’re keeping the reservation,” Mama said quickly. “At the cabin. I told you, your father and I stayed there one night last time we visited? Three years ago? It’s fabulous. Just fabulous. You go and enjoy.”
Rhett made a noncommittal noise that was neither agreement nor a lie. He was not keeping the Christmas reservation his mother had made for him at some random local cabin, which was her way of punishing him for not coming home. But Mama didn’t need to know that. Let her think he was going.
“I already made a donation to the dog rescue,” Mama said, as though she saw right through him. “You donate to the rescue and you get to attend the Christmas Eve banquet. There’s food and music. You can mingle with other people.”
Just the wordminglesent a crawling sensation up Rhett’s spine as he imagined having to spend Christmas Eve talking politics and religion with drunk strangers.
“Oh, and a massage! You get a free massage, too.”
Rhett groaned. He couldn’t think of anything worse than being alone, in a dark room, naked on a table, at the whim of a stranger. At least the massages in physical therapy had been clothed, in a chair, under a bright light, the only body part bared his wrecked thigh.
“You’re going to love it.”
Love it? First, a party. Then, a massage. He’d rather be back in Fallujah.
Mama made a suspicioushmmsound, but was quickly overshadowed by the clanging and banging of Rhett’s nieces. Brittany and Josephina were a wild pair. Rhett loved to rile them up when he visited, not only satisfying his need for physical activity by getting the girls running, jumping, screaming and being as obnoxious as possible, but also irritating his baby sister as much as he could in the process. They dominated the conversation after that, saving Rhett from any more argument over holidays and food. By the time he hung up, he faced his pathetic Thanksgiving dinner with a sigh.
He really wanted to go into the gym now. He’d wanted to since he woke, but had convinced himself to stay home and enjoy a rest day, despite the stir-crazy feeling and the stiffness in his thigh. “You can do this,” he told himself. “You can sit here and enjoy a relaxing day, and some food, like a normal person.”
