24. Gabriela
Chapter 24
Gabriela
T his has to be the saddest Thanksgiving in the history of all Thanksgiving’s. I miss mom so fucking much, and I am struggling to keep a smile on my face for my sister’s sake. Mireya sits on the floor at the coffee table in the living room, making a paper bag handprint turkey. I’m watching her from the kitchen, hovering over the stove, attempting to make a traditional American turkey dinner. Let’s just say it’s not going very well. Lucky for me, I opted to go with just a turkey breast rather than a whole bird.
Cooking is not something that comes naturally to me. I struggled to learn all the traditional Sonoran-style dishes that my mother said I had to know for when I had a family of my own. "Mija, it’s how we keep our culture alive, through food and stories.” Never did I think I would struggle to make sure that this turkey wasn’t dry or how to make stuffing. What the fuck even is stuffing, moist bread? I’m nearing the point of tears and about to throw in the towel and just make enchiladas.
Two seconds away from saying fuck it, the doorbell rings, and I have never been so happy to have unexpected company. I switch the burners off and head to the door, checking the peephole and smiling. Unlocking the door and throwing it open to Nat and Cora, holding tin-covered baking dishes and a cooler.
“Happy Thanksgiving!” They say it in unison.
“We thought you could use some help with dinner. Our moms made some stuff for us to bring over to you guys.” Cora gives me a warm yet telling smile, probably knowing that I have been struggling to get this food made.
Grateful to have them here, I invite Nat and Cora inside, feeling a wave of relief wash over me. As they set down their containers and coolers on the kitchen counter, I can’t help but feel a glimmer of hope that this Thanksgiving might turn around after all. The three of us unpack everything, and as I pull out the last container, there is a note attached to it.
Estás haciendo un trabajo maravilloso. Tu madre estaría muy orgullosa de ti. (You’re doing a wonderful job. Your mother would be so proud of you.)
I lose it, dropping to the floor, feeling my body shake with all the emotions I’ve kept buried all these months. Cora drops to my side and pulls me into her arms. Mireya comes from the living room; her eyes find mine, and she stares at me.
“Gabby.” She walks over and sits down in front of me, her little hands grabbing mine. “Why are you sad?”
I sucked in some air to calm myself before responding to her. “Because I miss mom. I’m sad that she isn’t here with us.”
Mireya starts to squeeze my hands, like I do with her when she gets overwhelmed. Sometimes I forget that even though she is on the spectrum, she can be so observant and can pick up on emotions better than most people. She is trying to calm me down, like I do with her.
“Better?” Her smile makes me smile because she is showing me comfort in the way she knows how.
I bring our hands to my lips, kissing hers. “Much better. Thank you.” I get up from the floor and help her up as well. “You ready to eat?”
Mireya looks at the food over my shoulder and gives me a scared look. “ Yo no se. (I don’t know.)”
With their mom's homemade dishes covering the table, the aroma of comfort fills the air, replacing my earlier frustration with a newfound sense of gratitude. Together, we gather around the table, Mireya proudly displaying her paper bag handprint turkey, and we devour the delicious food. I look around the table at my two best friends that have stuck by me through all of this and have been the support system that has held me together. I couldn’t ask for better friends.
* * *
Silently shutting Mireya’s bedroom door after putting her to bed for the night with a movie on her tablet, I head back to the living room, where Cora and Nat are waiting for me. Nat has three cans in her arms as she leaves the kitchen. “Time to unwind!” setting the hard seltzers on the coffee table. I sink into the chaise of the couch, rolling my shoulders to relax a bit.
“Thanks you guys,” reaching for one of the cans, cracking it open, and taking a sip. “You saved the day, for real. I was so close to throwing in the towel and just making enchiladas de pollo.”
Cora takes a long drink from her can, then laughs. “Well, that wouldn’t have been so bad. I’m not a huge fan of turkey, so I probably would have fucked those enchiladas up.”
“Same,” Nat nods. “But I fucking love Thanksgiving. My mom’s sweet potato hand pies are to die for. I could eat those and be content.”
I chuckle at their responses and take another sip of my drink. “Now we have these to unwind. And besides, I kind of think Mireya would have felt disappointed if we hadn’t had a traditional Thanksgiving turkey dinner. Her school has been talking about the holiday for weeks, and she was so excited about it.”
Nat raises her can in agreement. “You’re right. It’s all about the tradition and making sure she has a normal childhood. Plus, I’m not gonna lie, the leftovers tomorrow are going to be amazing.”
Cora grimaces, scrunching up her face in disgust. “Oh, definitely,” her voice full of sarcasm. “Turkey sandwiches and turkey soup for days. What’s not to love?”
Four seltzers later, and I’m tipsy, needing to lie down before I pass out for the night on the couch. Cora only had one drink so she could drive home, but Nat is even more drunk than I am.
“I fucking love you, Gabs.” Oh yeah... She is completely drunk. Calling me Gabs and everything. “I wish things had gone differently, but you are killing it at being a mom. Now we just need to find you a hot guy that can help you.” She hiccups, pulling me into a tight hug. “You know, a Daddy to help with the whole stress of it.” She winks.
Ah, that kind of stress.
“Yeah, I don’t know about all that.” I help, horribly though, in getting Nat in Cora’s car. I slam the rear passenger door shut and turn to find Cora staring at me.
“Is that because you’ve found someone already?” eyeing me suspiciously. “Someone who’s very territorial over you, even though he’s an asshole?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Lie.
"Sure, you don’t. Just know that if he hurts you, my cousins can get rid of him pretty easily.” Cora has three cousins in the Los Muertos Vivos MC, and they are known for doing some shady, very illegal things.
“Noted.” I lean in to hug her. “Get home safe.”
“Will do! I’ll text you tomorrow.” She breaks our hug and gets in the driver’s seat, starting the car and driving off.
Once I’m back inside, I stumble through, cleaning up the cans from the coffee table. Then I head back to bed, stripping down to just my underwear and a baggy shirt. I collapse onto the sheets and pull the comforter up. I’m not so drunk that I’ve got the spins, but the light “fuzzy” feeling is nice, helping me drift off to sleep.