18. Reid
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
reid
LAST NOVEMBER
H appy Thanksgiving!” Isa’s singsong voice rang through the phone.
“Happy Thanksgiving, Isa,” I replied, my voice falling a bit flat.
“Are you doing anything fun today? Any plans for dinner? I’m planning on stuffing myself full of turkey and mashed potatoes until I can’t move.” She laughed, seemingly ignoring my lack of enthusiasm.
“Nah, Colter’s siblings are in town and they’re all having dinner at his mom’s place, and Jake, Mikey, and Hayden are all out of town visiting their family.”
“Oh. You didn’t go home?” her voice faded. She didn’t know how much I hated the big holidays, so it was a natural response to be sad. If one of my friends said the same thing, I’d probably feel for them too.
I’d told her earlier in the year that I didn’t like celebrating my birthday—after she gave me shit for not telling her about it. Plenty of people didn’t care about their birthday. And for a multitude of reasons. But holidays? Holidays were supposed to be the time families spent together. Holidays were supposed to be happy , not a time where everyone argued and tensions rose.
They weren’t supposed to be a time of loneliness—hopelessness.
The timer on the stove went off again, the sound cutting through the silence in the house.
“Reid! Turn that shit off!” Mom groaned from the same spot on the couch she was always in. She was still drinking; she was always drinking.
I sighed, heading into the kitchen. I opened about five different drawers before I found the oven mitts. The smell of slightly burnt crust wafted out of the oven as I opened the door and grabbed the frozen pizza my mom had put in and clearly forgot about.
Normal kids got a big feast of turkey, mashed potatoes, gravy, and vegetables on Thanksgiving. We got burnt pizza and whatever else was in the fridge.
“Is Dad coming for dinner?” Kacey pulled on my arm. At the age of eleven, this was all she’d ever really known for holidays. She would have been too young to remember a time when the holidays weren’t dysfunctional.
“I don’t think so, Kace,” I sighed, trying to ignore the defeated look that clouded her eyes. “Sit down and I’ll cut you a piece. Cooper! Ryker!” I called for my brothers, and they came tearing out of their bedrooms.
“Ooh, pizza, my favorite.” Cooper snatched a piece of pepperoni off the top as he skirted by the counter on the way to the table.
I put a slice on three plates and set them on the table in front of each of their chairs. Then I grabbed one for my mom, realizing she still hadn’t gotten off the couch.
“Mom?” I called to her, but she didn’t answer. My shoulders dropped a little as I walked over to the couch to give it to her.
Please be awake , I thought.
She wasn’t.
Of course she wasn’t. She’d passed out again from drinking too much.
I set the plate down on the coffee table next to her and picked up the bottles littering the floor. Coop and Kacey were getting older, but they didn’t need to see the constant state of disarray the living room was in. I was always cleaning up after her.
“Let’s eat.” I put on a brave face for my siblings as they dug into their pizza, just excited to be getting something other than peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. Before taking my own bite, though, I sent up a prayer that it wouldn’t always be like this.
I was going to get them out of here, with or without her.
“Reid?” I must have gone quiet on the phone, because Isa’s voice broke me out of the memory. “Are you still there?”
“Yeah, yeah, I’m still here. Sorry.” I paused. “No, I’m not going home. Cooper is overseas and Kacey and Ryke are celebrating Thanksgiving with their friends in Goldfinch.”
When I was in college and my siblings were still at home, I made an effort to go back for holidays because I didn’t want to abandon them like my mother had. But once they had graduated and moved out of the house, I didn’t really have a reason to go home. From what I understood, they themselves tried to find another place to be than home for the holidays after what we’d been through.
“Oh, okay. Well, happy Thanksgiving.”
“Yeah, you too.” I bit my lip as the line went dead. Perhaps it was selfish, but a small part of me wished I told her the whole truth about why I wasn’t going home. That even if nothing would change, I’d at least have someone to talk about it with.
But I couldn’t do that. Not today and not to her.
Knowing Isa, she’d try to spend more time on the phone with me than with her own family, and as much as I wished I could spend the day with her, I wasn’t going to be the reason she missed out on time with them.
Instead of spending the entire evening alone, I decided to head into Miles City. Most of the businesses were closed, but I found myself walking into Rudy’s. The building was practically empty, except for a few people sitting alone at the bar.
I took a seat at the end, away from the others.
“Reid, my boy, what are you doing here? It’s Thanksgiving!” Rudy came over to me, his voice bellowing in the silence.
“I stayed home this Thanksgiving. My siblings are all doing things on their own this year,” I replied.
“Ah, I see.” He nodded like he understood.
“I don’t have any other family,” I lied. It wasn’t a complete lie if I thought about it—I hadn’t talked to my dad in a long time and I honestly didn’t even know where he was. He could have a whole other family for all I knew, under the guise he was traveling for work. It was unfair to think, but other than sending occasional checks in the mail, he really didn’t come home or reach out often.
“Well, my boy, I’ll gladly be your family today.” Rudy gave me a somber smile.
I sat, taking my time drinking the beer I ordered, and eventually, the few people in the bar left until it was only me and Rudy.
“Why haven’t you kicked me out?” I jokingly asked. “I’m sure you’ve got somewhere better to be than entertaining some lonely kid on Thanksgiving.”
He shook his head. “This is exactly where I need to be.”
I hesitated for a moment, but asked the question burning in my mind. “Where’s your family?”
“It’s just me. My wife passed a couple years ago and we never had any kids,” he replied as he walked around the bar to take a seat next to me.
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s all right.” He let out a deep breath. “It’s never easy, but you get used to it over time. My only regret is that I didn’t value the time we had together more.”
We didn’t talk much after that, simply existing in each other’s company. Rudy poured himself a beer and refilled my glass.
I gained a lot of respect for the old man that day. He could have kicked me out, told me to go home or find somewhere else to spend my evening so he could leave, but he didn’t. We didn’t know each other’s story, but we didn’t have to know to realize we were more alike than it seemed.