6. The Thanksgiving Industrial Complex
6
The Thanksgiving Industrial Complex
From Barry Wright’s manifesto:
Did you know that a single agribusiness, run by a billionaire, provides most of this country’s favorite Thanksgiving food items, from turkeys to table salt? What could a company do with that much power over the food supply? That’s why I’ll never eat a supermarket turkey again.
TESSA
M y electric SUV slid silently to a stop in front of a two-story home in suburban Sacramento. It wasn’t the one that interested me. I glared at the nearly identical house next door, the one with two cars in the driveway and another three on the street in front, including a red Porsche convertible.
Yet my friend was inside, alone.
The four of us had met a little over a year ago after we’d walked out of a self-help seminar, and now, they were among my closest friends. I’d do almost anything for them. Which was why I was in Sacramento on Thanksgiving, which I usually spent with my cats, being thankful my father didn’t believe in the holiday.
I took a moment to scroll up to today’s first group text.
Goddess Gang
Savannah
Can I vent for a sec? Jason invited *work colleagues* to Thanksgiving without telling me! The worst part is - they’re here, and he’s not.
Carly
Oh no! Do you have enough food? Need me to Red Rover something?
Lucie
Why are you even there? I should’ve invited you to Danny’s mom’s. There’s like 50 people here. They wouldn’t have noticed one more. It’s a lot, but at least your soon-to-be-ex isn’t here.
Savannah
My sons are home. I thought we could have one last family Thanksgiving.
That had pierced even my cold heart. I knew about wanting things my family couldn’t provide. I’d started to respond, but then Savannah’s next text had come through.
Savannah
Scratch that. The worst part is now Jason’s here…and so is his girlfriend.
I’d almost flamed up at that. Before I knew it, my keys were in my hand.
@Savannah, go someplace public and safe. I’ll pick you up.
Savannah
No! Don’t go to the trouble. I’m fine, just venting.
Be there in two hours
There was more after that, mostly Savannah trying to take back what she’d said and our other two friends trying to convince Savannah to leave (Carly) or to tell off her husband (Lucie). But like I’d promised, I was on the road.
The situation was untenable. Savannah had been a stay-at-home mom for the past twenty-plus years and had no separate funds to speak of. She thought she had no choice but to remain in the home she shared with her husband and put up with whatever bullshit he served up until their divorce was final and she got her half of their property.
She was wrong.
When I parked in front of the house next door, I sent a final text.
I’m here. Be ready.
I exited my car and stalked up the front walk. I knocked on the door but didn’t wait for an answer before I tried the latch. It was unlocked, so I let myself in.
The sunny foyer was spotless and pine scented. It emptied into an open-plan living room, dining room, and kitchen. When they bought the place, my optimistic friend must have imagined cooking meals while her family chatted with her from the cushy upholstered stools at the peninsula that divided the kitchen from the living room. Or that her family would be drawn into the airy kitchen to help.
But that wasn’t happening today.
Four men lounged in the living room, roaring at the football game. One propped his feet on the coffee table. Another wore a backward baseball cap and a mulish expression. A third clicked through his phone like he was wishing he were anywhere else. The one facing me jumped when he saw my expression and dropped his bowl of popcorn, spilling kernels across the carpet.
A woman perched on an armchair halfway between the guys in front of the television and the kitchen. She was younger, in her early 30s, with long brown hair curled into waves. She wore a silk dress the color of rust, heels, and a string of pearls like she’d somehow ended up at the wrong party. When she saw me, hope blazed on her face.
I shrugged. I wasn’t here to save her. I strode into the kitchen. Savannah had her back to me as she aggressively buzzed an electric knife into the golden-brown turkey.
“Dinner’s almost ready, Jason,” she said. “Could you turn off?—”
“Savannah,” I interrupted her, loudly enough to be heard over the drone of the knife.
When she startled, the knife rumbled against a bone. She flipped it off and wiped her hands on a towel. “Tessa! You shouldn’t have come. I’m fine.” Then, lower, she mumbled, “I was only venting.”
I tilted my head. “It sounded like a cry for help to me.”
“I—”
“Who the hell’re you?” a male voice slurred behind me.
It was Backward Baseball Cap. I asked, “Are you Jason?”
“This is my house, and I ask the questions,” he said, louder.
“Jason.” The girlfriend put a hand on his shoulder.
“Do you?” I said. “I’ve got some questions of my own. What gives you the right to think Savannah wants you and your friends here at all? This is her house too. Shouldn’t she be consulted on the guest list? And finally, if she’s graciously offered to cook, isn’t it only polite that you help?”
“Help?” he snarled. “It’s her job. I bought this house. I keep the lights on. I support her.”
Anger flashed through me like lightning. “Maybe that was your arrangement while she was having her emotional needs met, if that was ever true, but now you’re two people sharing space. She owes you nothing.”
“Screw that. Tell’er, Savannah. You wanted to host Thanksgiving. And I can invite who I want to my house.”
“I…” My friend’s eyes looked ready to pop out of her face.
“Come on, Savannah. Pack a bag. Let’s go.” I waited, half hoping she’d fight me, fight him, do anything but cave again.
She ducked her head, refusing to meet either of our stares. “Okay.” Leaving the half-carved turkey and the greasy knife on the counter, she washed her hands and walked up the stairs.
“Maybe you two would like to take over here?” Glaring at Jason and his plus-one, I gestured at the half-carved turkey, flesh still clinging to its ribs on one side.
The woman grimaced. “I’m gonna go.”
“Baby, don’t—” He swayed toward her.
Their drama was interesting, but my priority was my friend. I jogged up the stairs after her.
The front door slammed.
A few seconds later, I heard footsteps behind me on the hallway carpet. “Hey! What about dinner?”
I wheeled and Jason’s momentum carried him almost into my chest. We were the same height, and I stared him in his bloodshot eyes. “You’re a grown man. Are you incapable of feeding yourself?”
“No, but I…what about the kids?”
“Kids?” I glanced over my shoulder. Where were her kids?
“I’ll say goodbye to the boys,” she said from behind me, her voice low. “Abby’s at her boyfriend’s. I’ll text her from the car.”
That made me even more furious. Her kids had left her alone with her soon-to-be-ex and his girlfriend? What kind of children had she raised? If I had the kind of dad who’d make Thanksgiving dinner, I would’ve stood at his side. I’d have even listened to his screed about the Thanksgiving Industrial Complex.
I folded my arms and stared Jason in the eye. He took off his baseball cap, scratched the sweaty wisps of hair on top of his head, and jammed it back down. Behind me, a door opened, and electronic blaster fire boomed. It stopped as Savannah murmured something. She was answered by a couple of low voices. After a minute, I heard footsteps on the carpet.
“Excuse me.” A pair of gangly young men brushed past me. Both appeared to be about college age. One was an inch or two taller, but the other was stockier. “Let’s take a walk, Dad,” the taller one said.
“What’s she doing?” Jason peered around me.
“Leaving.” The stocky one grasped his arm. “Now, let’s give her some space.”
“What if she takes something that’s mine?” Their father’s voice was petulant.
“Mom wouldn’t do that.”
“She stole my car once,” he argued.
“California is a community property state. It’s her car too.” The taller one’s face was kind like his mother’s, but his jaw hardened.
“Come on,” said the other one. “We can go for a ride. I’ll drive.”
Jason glared at me. I lifted my chin. After a long beat, he let his sons guide him back downstairs. I turned and went the direction I’d seen Savannah go.
There was a crash followed by a shattering sound. “Crap!”
I followed the sound of her voice and found her in a bathroom off a good-sized bedroom, her ankles and the tiles splattered with something peachy pink. She looked at me, an expression of devastation turning down her lips. “I dropped my foundation.”
“It’s fine. We’ll get you a new one. In fact, leave everything except the things you can’t live without. We’ll replace the rest.”
She bent to pick up a piece of the broken bottle. “I can’t ask you to do that.”
“You’re not asking me to do anything.” When I stepped toward her, a piece of glass crunched under my boot. “Leave it. We’re going, and you don’t need to worry about anything.”
“But I…” She looked up at me, then nodded and stood, her knees creaking. “Okay. Just a sec.” She stepped over the mess in the bathroom and walked across the hall to a room decorated with K-pop posters and a couple of movie posters that looked like romantic dramas. She scooped four paperbacks off the nightstand and dumped the contents of two drawers into a duffel bag. She plucked three framed photos—the kind-faced boy in a cap and gown, the stocky boy looking strangled in a red-striped tie, and a young woman with Savannah’s blond hair leaning artfully against a brick wall—from the dresser. She laid them on top of her clothes and slung the bag over her shoulder. “Ready.”
That went better than I’d hoped. “Great.” I led the way downstairs, past the three men still entranced by the game on the big screen, to the front door. I was thankful Jason and his girlfriend were gone. But when I put my hand on the door latch, I realized Savannah wasn’t behind me. She was in the kitchen, staring sorrowfully at the copper-bottomed pans hanging over the peninsula. “Give me two minutes, and I’ll box these up.”
“No time,” I said. Who knew how long her sons could distract their father. “Besides, there’s no space for them at my place. I’ve got a cabinet full of pots you can use.”
She gave the rack a longing look. “But these are… Okay,” she sighed.
Outside, I breathed easier in the fresh air that didn’t smell like turkey and obligation. I’d never been gladder that, since Harry, I hadn’t let anyone trap me into a relationship, much less a marriage that would end in shattered trust and abandoned saucepots.