Chapter Twenty-Three Thanksgiving #2
“So, Mom met and married Jonathan a year or so after the divorce. He’s a nice guy, just boring and fussy, and I don’t really get along with his kids and grandkids.
He’s older than my mom by a little bit—nothing wrong with that.
They were both married to ‘adventurous’ people, and they found their ‘stay home and chill’ people with this second marriage.
He has Darcy, Dillon, Jamie, and Janice, but I don’t think all of them will be there.
They’re all married and have a bunch of kids.
I’m the only single one in the family, and it pisses them off.
Like if they have to be tied down and always cancelling plans because of little Becky’s strep throat and baby Charlie’s ear infection, then I should be miserable, too. ”
“Oh.”
I swallow my beef jerky and toss a piece to each of the dogs, my throat sticky, and not just because I chose the honey barbecue flavor.
Kids and being tied down? Miserable?
I hear lots of guys start praying when they’re about to meet the in-laws. My prayers are a little different.
God, I don’t care if I can’t skate again. Make me the best boyfriend. Best husband. I want her to feel like having a family with me is awesome. I want her to think that being with me is fun, even though I’ll never be perfect. It’ll never be perfect.
Ingrid continues, her beautiful face pained and her voice holding an exasperated undercurrent.
“Janice had a huge meltdown when my mom tried to insist that I be her maid of honor, and she didn't want me to be. She’s like ten years older than me, too, and we’d met like.
.. five times. Why would I be her maid of honor?
I was a stepsister who didn’t even grow up with her! ”
“Your mom was just trying to make the family more blended?”
“Yeah, but some things don’t blend, like chocolate and dog treats.
Anyway, the joke’s on them; I didn’t want to be in the wedding, either.
I had a trip to Turkey planned for months.
The day of the wedding, I was with a tour group, hanging out at the Hagia Sophia, and I was touring the ruins of Ephesus during the rehearsal dinner.
Mom, Janice, Janice’s husband, and Jonathan are still mad at me for ‘causing’ the argument. ”
“Oh.”
“Am I trauma dumping too much?”
“No, baby. Go ahead.”
“I just don’t know who all will be there.
My mom’s sisters, their husbands, and their kids might be there.
My mom and her sisters have a hot-and-cold relationship.
They didn’t like her moving around with Dad, and then when she came back, they didn’t like that I didn’t stay nearby.
That’s all. Well, no, that's not all. Sometimes people have different goals. Don’t follow the path you expect.
” Her fingers drum on the wheel as a light rain starts to fall.
“Is this about not becoming a nurse?”
Ingrid winces. “All that money on a college degree that I don’t use...”
I reach over and rub her back. “You’re happy, and you help people. People love you. I love you. Kevin and Marina love you. Mrs. Y, and Mrs. Felice, and Steve, and Lester... You’re my family.”
Her hand comes back to my knee. “Don’t worry.
There’s not going to be any big drama. Just no warm holiday magic.
Civil, pleasant stuff. Tomorrow and the weekend should be easy.
My mom is going to ask you a thousand questions, but then I’ll distract her by telling her I want to help put up the tree, and we’ll have the ‘one holiday’ at a time argument, eat a walnut-cheddar cheese log, and go shopping.
” She looks at me with a tired smile. “Poor you. Left at home with Jonathan and the nature channel.”
“What are you talking about? I’m coming with you. I’ve never had a girlfriend to shop for, and I’ve got a whole truck bed I can fill up.”
“You’re supposed to be saving money!”
“Do I go to Victoria’s Secret, or should I search up Baltimore’s adult novelty stores and get you something naughtier?” I tease.
“You can not!”
“What about a jewelry store? Hmm? If I were to get you something sparkly...”
“I have you. That’s enough.”
My heart swells up, hard and fast, emotion clouding my eyes and my chest.
Such a mess.
So broken.
Don’t know what happens next with my career, or all the little plans I’m trying to put in motion...
“You love me like this?”
“Like what? Sexy as hell and twice as sweet?” Ingrid laughs.
It takes me a few seconds to find the right words. “I think when you’re in love, you stop seeing all the things that are wrong. You sure about me?”
She nods. “Sure. Are you sure?”
“Incredibly positive.”
Ilove my mother. I even love Jonathan, in a sort of ‘you’re my family, so I must love you’ way, and I love him for being a good, steady (boring) hubby to my mother.
I don’t dislike anyone there—but it’s not how I want to spend the holiday.
I miss my brother. I miss joking and board games, and I know he and King would bond over hockey and football.
“Dogs, Ingrid... Such big dogs. Did you hear about that two-year-old who lost three fingers? I don’t know why you couldn’t have something smaller since children are going to be present,” Janice tsks and whisks, a bowl under her arm.
She trots around the kitchen, shimmering in a champagne silk blouse, a frilly apron, pearls, and heels.
Why am I in jeans? Why am I in a Lumberjacks ringer shirt?
No, why is everyone else in business casual?
“Chip and Daisy are well-trained. They even volunteer at the local senior home. King is taking them into a second-grade classroom next week, too.”
King stands behind me, arms around me. Under his shirt, I can feel a small circle radiating heat—a glamour he got from Madge’s, something that provides extra protection from eyes that might see through the “Mist,” or as I call it, “being totally oblivious.”
He is quick to defend our fur babies. “Chip and Daisy are so sweet. They’re totally going to be our kids’ furry guardian angels.”
“Kids?” Jonathan looks up from the carrots he’s peeling. “You two aren’t even married!”
“Dad, shush. Some older women try to get pregnant first. Ingrid’s... what? Forty?”
I’m going to kill Dillon.
I can hear King’s snarl, and it’s oddly comforting. “I should say that I hope that’s the way it is.”
“Ingrid, come and help me with the potatoes. I saved enough that we’ll have plenty for mashed potatoes.”
“Mom, how many pounds is this?” I gasp.
“Just twenty.”
“Might as well be cooking for an aircraft carrier crew,” I mumble.
“Training or not, I still don’t think it’s wise to have a dog in the home until a child is five or six.
You know how they put things in their mouths.
” Janice shudders. “Dog hair, feces on their paws, slobber... Honestly, I can’t believe the American Academy of Pediatrics hasn’t given suggested guidelines about allowing dogs in homes with infants and toddlers. ”
King picks up a potato peeler. “I thought we avoided this by getting here at ten?” he whispers.
“Shh.”
“And Tyler was sooo happy when you made him send his dogs away to live with his parents, right, sis?” Dillon steals a brownie out of the pan, and my mother sighs.
“The dogs will come back when the kids are older,” Janice says, heat in her voice, her whisking turning vicious. Splatters of pumpkin decorate her apron and the sleeves of her blouse. “Oh! Dillon, get out of here. Go help your wife with your babies.”
“My seven-year-olds? They’re playing on their laptops.”
“You brought laptops to a family dinner?” Janice hisses. “Daddy!”
“Ingrid, take the bowl from your sister.” Jonathan looks up, his mild, sheep-like face confused. “ You’re not dressed to help in the kitchen, Jan. Let Ingrid do it; she’s dressed to get messy.”
I wordlessly hold out my arms for the bowl, which Janice passes to me with a fixed smile. “Daddy, that’s not the issue! My nieces are being ruined with screentime!”
“You wouldn’t let them help in the kitchen!”
“They could be playing with their cousins.”
“Speaking of that, you keep popping them out, Janice. The oldest is eight, the youngest is three. Gonna have another one so you can keep the dogs out of the house for another decade? Unless Tyler’s dogs are some kind of magical breed, they’re gonna be—”
“Enough! Dillon, out. Jan, there’s some stain spray in the laundry room. King, you have to excuse our silly little family squabbles. Sit and put your feet up. How did you hurt your leg?” My mother takes charge, shoving people gently where she wants them to go. She nudges me towards the stove.
I’m beginning to wonder if it would be less painful to crawl in with the turkey.
The doorbell rings, and King and I exchange a look. “Should I answer that?” I ask with as much sweetness as I can hang onto.
“Oh, it’ll just be Aunt Lillian and Uncle Luke. Both of their boys are with their wives’ families this year. I’ll get the door, you get that in the pie crust.”
Mom flees, and King and I close ranks.
“I’m sorry.” I give him my best soulful eyes. “I understand if you want to go find a nice, quiet city dump to sit in.”
“Shush. I love being with you. Would it be bad if I smeared Janice's kids with gravy and let the dogs lick them? Would she clutch her pearls until they broke, or just hyperventilate while spraying them with Lysol?”
I jump up and kiss his jaw, not quite making it to his cheek. “I love you, and I need a stepstool.”
“Oh, my goodness. Where’d they grow him at?” Uncle Luke walks in and stares. “Ingy, where’d you find Stretch?”
“This is King, Uncle Luke. I found him in my waiting room with a bad knee injury, and I liked him so much I decided to keep him.” I hope my teasing tone will make up for the rude way my uncle is staring.
Shit, does his glamour not work? Is Uncle Luke one of the rare people with the ability to see paranormal people?
“I guess I should have said, ‘Why is he with you?’ What’s prime rib doing with a day-old burger?” Uncle Luke laughs, wrings King’s hand, and then hugs me.