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Besides, this was Mitch’s turf. The woman instantly blended in with her family, where she checked in on her sister’s personal life and berated her brother for being a “fuckboy.” He bitched at her; she told him where to stick his head. Penny absolved herself of these sibling-oriented arguments now that everyone was a legal adult. Vanessa couldn’t believe how Mitch’s brother talked to her, but he always backed down when she leveled a metric-ton gaze on him.
As usual, Vanessa was the only guest that year. Penny made a big enough deal about her daughter’s partner that Vanessa was inclined to hide in her guest room or drive into town to collect the groceries on Penny’s behalf. She had taken it upon herself to cook every Thanksgiving dinner with minimum help since Mitch was far from a chef, and the boys would have rather stuck their heads in the oven than lift a finger to cut a carrot. Mitch’s sister was the only one who helped at all. The boys played a loud video game in the living room, and Mitch went over the family ledger at the kitchen table while her sister set the dishes around the checkbook. Vanessa was more than happy to help, but since she was worthless at cooking, she headed to the nearest grocery store to pick up more vegetable oil.
And a few other things.
“Jesus, Van.” Mitch peeked into the reusable shopping bag stuffed with random sundries that either went straight into the pantry or into Vanessa’s gullet. “What happened here? How many varieties of marshmallows are there?”
“I… I didn’t know if she wanted vegan ones. Or what size. They had these huge marshmallows, and I thought those were the ones, but then I remembered they might be for those desserts people make with graham crackers and chocolate.”
“You mean… s’mores?”
“Suppose so.”
Penny peered over Vanessa’s shoulder. “We have a new tradition, it seems. We can make those in the microwave.”
A loud explosion sounded from the living room TV. Both young men shouted in unison as they won their militarized video game campaign. Mitch winced. Only Vanessa noticed.
“Why don’t we go for a walk and get out of your mother’s way?” Vanessa suggested. “What time do you think it will be all ready? I’ll help plate it for you.” At least she could do that.
“Oh, it’s at least another hour. I’ve still got the mashed potatoes to finish and the apple pie to throw in the oven once the turkey’s out…”
Mitch closed the financial ledger in front of her. “Let’s go, before they start the campaign set in the ubiquitous Middle East.” Lest Vanessa assumed this was about PTSD from her time in the Marines, Mitch added, “The Arabic is absolutelyatrocious.”
Whatever she wanted, Vanessa granted.
The cloud-covered Thanksgiving sky occasionally broke with sunlight. Vanessa remained bundled in her fuzzy sweater while Mitch pulled up the hood on her sweatshirt and shoved her hands in the front pocket. Together, they slowly walked side-by-side in the neighborhood, joined only by dog walkers and the occasional carful of family members visiting another house.
“It’s nice to have the weekend off, isn’t it?” Vanessa asked, referring to how Club Night was closed that weekend so Candace could jet-set off to some remote place for “rest and relaxation.” Vanessa couldn’t quite remember where the woman said she was going. Either France or Monaco.
Mitch made it one step ahead before they reached the only stoplight in the neighborhood. No cars came in either direction, but Mitch didn’t care. She stopped at the red light and patiently waited for the walk sign to come on.
“It’s all the same to me,” she said.
Vanessa studied the back of Mitch’s hood before she stepped into the street.
This is going to be the death of us if I’m not careful.Mitch didn’t like to talk about the details of what happened in the club. For every evening she claimed it was because “nothing interesting happened,” there was another where she declared “it’s probably best for me to talk to Agent James about it myself.” Vanessa wanted to go with Mitch more but also realized that she got in the way of her slowly whittling Candace down into a puddle of self-destructive desire.
She doesn’t only want my pet. She covets the love of my life.
Vanessa hooked her arm around Mitch’s as they continued to walk through the neighborhood. The two of them were stiff enough that anyone looking in their direction might assume that one or both had no desire to be there, but the truth couldn’t be farther from that. Not even with Vanessa towering over her shorter partner. Her bushy curls may have been pulled back into a frizzy plait to keep it from getting in the Thanksgiving food, but there was enough static in the air that she occasionally shocked the woman walking with her. Mitch never minded.
Sometimes, Vanessa wondered what they looked like to other people. Did they even look like they belonged in the same room together…
During the day?
At night, when they performed as their alter-egos?
“Your brothers are the same as always,” Vanessa said, breaking the silence.
“They didn’t enlist into the military like they always threatened, so I take what I can get with their foul mouths.”
“It’s mostly the younger one who’s a bit much, isn’t it?”
“The older one eats it up. I’m glad they go to different schools. Maybe he’ll grow out of it.”
“I overheard your sister talking about UCLA. Do you know what she’s studying?”
Mitch was noncommittal for a moment. “I have no idea. We don’t talk much.”
