21. Blake
CHAPTER 21
BLAKE
T hanksgiving morning, I baked up my pie, then I drove it to Claire’s place and exchanged it for Oli. I’d offered to take him to lunch, then the park, so Claire and her parents could focus on cooking. He ran out to meet me with Buster in tow, both jumping up on me. I patted both their heads.
We ended up at Pie Palace, on their patio, eating our pizza as Buster nosed for scraps. Oli watched as I ate, his eyes big and solemn.
“What is it, bud? You want more juice?”
Oli glanced at his empty cup. He shook his head. “We got the same lunch,” he said, and pointed at my plate. “Extra-cheese slice with pepperoni and mushrooms, orange juice, and an apple for dessert.”
I smiled. “Yeah, we did. Guess we like the same food.”
“We have the same shirt as well. See, blue and blue.” He pointed at his shirt, then pointed at mine. “Yours is light blue, but it’s almost the same. And our shoes are the same. Laces, not Velcro.”
“You’re really good at tying your shoes. I’d tie my own thumbs together when I was your age.”
Oli giggled at that, but he wasn’t done. “We look the same too. We both have big feet. And I heard Gramps saying our chins look the same.” He jutted his chin out and stroked it like a beard. “So, you’re really my dad?”
I nearly dropped my slice. “Of course I’m your dad.”
“But when you go home soon, will you still be my dad?”
I wanted to scoop him up and hug him right there, and tell him of course I would. “Dad” meant “forever.” But he looked scared already, and small and alone, so not wanting to startle him, I thumbed sauce off his cheek.
“Of course I will. I’ll always be your dad. And your mom has my number, so you can call me whenever.”
Oli looked at his plate. “Could I get a phone too? So I could call you at night, or at school?”
I didn’t know what to tell him, or what I should do. These were uncharted waters, and I was new to this game. What would my dad have done? Or how about Claire’s dad? I took a big bite of pizza to buy time to think, but it went down the wrong way, and I coughed and spluttered. Oli jumped down and ran up behind me, and pounded my back with his soft little fists.
“Thank you,” I said, when I’d caught my breath. “Guess I, uh, guess I forgot how to chew.”
“With your mouth closed,” said Oli. “And don’t talk with your mouth full.”
“Yeah. Good advice.” I gulped orange juice. Oli stole my pie crust and fed it to Buster, and he seemed to have forgotten the phone thing for now. But did he think I’d just vanish, and not be his dad? I’d go back to being… not in his life? It made a sad kind of sense, from his perspective: he’d gone three years without knowing me, then I’d come to visit. And one day, he knew, that visit would end. It wasn’t strange he’d expect life to go back to normal, and normal for Oli meant I wasn’t there.
“He’s doing the pee-pee dance.” Oli pointed at Buster. “We should go to the park soon, or he’ll go right here.”
“Right, yeah, of course.” I dug for my wallet. First thing tomorrow, I’d call up that fellowship. Let them know, yeah. I wanted an interview.
If Oli needed me, I had to be close.
The house smelled amazing by the time we got back, warm and savory, with a sweet hint of pie. Claire took Oli to wash up and I helped set the table.
“You should carve tonight,” said Alan, as he set out the glasses. “It would be a good thing for Oli to see.”
“To see you’re family,” said Sharon. “Not just a guest.”
Hot guilt surged through me. Had Oli come to them too with his fears I’d vanish? I didn’t dare ask what they’d said, if he had.
“I hope you do feel at home here,” Sharon went on. “It’s been so fun for Oli, having you back. He hasn’t stopped talking about the huge bubbles.”
“Bubbles!” Oli came charging in, and Alan caught him. He lifted him gently into his chair. Claire took her place next to him and poured him some juice. Sharon lit a few candles and turned down the lights, and Alan brought in the turkey, golden-brown from the oven. When he set it down, Oli stood up and clapped.
“A standing ovation.” Sharon chuckled. “I think that’s a first, even for me.”
“I want stuffing,” said Oli.
“And you’ll have all you want. But first, it’s Thanksgiving.” Alan stood up and took a deep breath. “Before we get to the food, let’s go round the table, and we’ll all say what we’re thankful for. I’m grateful for family, and for the good luck we’ve had. We have this great house and this wonderful food, and so much love there’s no room to put it all. I’m thankful for all of that, and all of you.” He smiled around the table, and his gaze lit on me. I thought he’d look away quickly, but he nodded instead, as though to assure me all of you meant me, too.
“I’m thankful for all that,” said Sharon. “And for our good health. And that we’re all together to share this fine meal.”
“Me next,” yelled Oli. He bounced in his seat. “I’m thankful Dad’s home, and he’s cooler than Mike’s dad.”
Claire pursed her lips. “Oli! Don’t say things like that.”
“What? He is cooler. Mike’s dad just works. He never plays with us, and he makes us be quiet.”
“Didn’t he take you all to the science museum?”
Oli looked pensive. “Well, that was cool.”
“So maybe cut Mike’s dad a little slack? We all have to work sometimes, and we all need some quiet.”
“Okay,” said Oli. “I’m thankful Dad’s home, and he’s as cool as Mike’s dad.”
“Better.” Claire gave him a one-armed hug. Oli wriggled, embarrassed, and she kissed his head. “I’m grateful this year to be back at work. And of course for this family, and this delicious feast. And I’m so glad we’re all here to celebrate together.” Her hand found mine under the table, and she gave it a squeeze. I felt my eyes prickle.
“It’s your turn,” said Claire.
I cleared my throat. Blinked. What could I say? I wanted to thank them all for being thankful for me. For including me in something so sacred. They were treating me like family, like I belonged. Like I had a home here, the kind I’d dreamed of.
“Family,” I croaked, and cleared my throat one more time. I grabbed my water and took a big gulp. “Sorry about that. I’m thankful for you all, and how welcome you’ve made me. I, uh, I… you know, I’ve missed out on a lot, but it’s so good to be here. I’m thankful for that.”
“Hear, hear,” said Alan. He nudged the turkey my way. “Now, since you’re standing, would you carve me a slice?”
Somehow, I managed to keep my hand steady. I took up the carving knife and filled all our plates, biting my cheek the whole time to keep my composure. My mind kept on racing with visions of could-be — meals I might serve at this very table. Lunches for Oli. After-school snacks. Birthday dinners, and Christmas, and Thanksgiving again. I saw myself older, around Alan’s age, and Oli with his girlfriend he’d brought home to meet us. Maybe he’d be in med school, or law school, or trades. Or he’d be an architect like his grandfather.
“More gravy,” said Oli. Claire poured him a drop. She poured me some too, and even that made my heart swell, that little act of kindness. Inclusion. I’d never had that anywhere else, not as far back as I could remember. I had a home here, and an actual family. A family who wanted me, who’d welcome me home. What on this earth could be worth more than that?
“You’re not eating,” said Claire. “You waiting for stuffing?”
I could only nod. My throat had gone tight. Claire served me more stuffing, and poured me some wine. She toasted to family, and to our good health, and I sneakily wiped my eyes while everyone clinked.
Oli conked out right after dessert, dozy from turkey and a long, fun-filled day. Alan dozed off as well, halfway through the movie. Claire spotted him snoring and gave me a nudge.
“Let’s go for a walk,” she said.
I smiled, flashing back to four years ago, our walk to the guesthouse. Our first kiss on the stoop. I could still close my eyes and see every detail, Claire’s cheeks flushed with cold. The light in her eyes. How she’d tilted her head back, and then I’d leaned in. I’d reached for her and she’d reached for me, and I’d kissed her until I felt my knees go weak. Now I took Claire’s hand and let her lead me outside, up that same driveway, to that same pool of porch light.
“We could go in,” she said.
“Back to the start?”
She cupped my cheek. Her palm was warm. I leaned into her touch.
“You remember what you said back then?”
I thought back to that night. “How you always look perfect? You still do, you know.”
Claire smiled. “That’s sweet, but no. I meant after that.”
My heart skipped a beat. “You mean about us? About wanting more?”
“You said you wanted that night to be the start of something. Not just some hookup, but a first date.”
Of course I remembered that. I’d barely got the words out. I didn’t want to come on too strong, but I couldn’t keep going without knowing she felt the same.
“I was worried you’d laugh at me. Or think I was weird.”
“I never thought that.” Claire stole a kiss. “I thought you were honest. And you were brave. It’s hard to put yourself out like that, to put it all on the line. It’s hard for me to stand here and ask you right now…” She bit her lip. Shivered.
“To ask me what?”
“Are we just hooking up now, or is this more? Do you see any future, or?—”
“I see it. I do.” I wanted to tell her I’d seen more than that. I’d seen it all over dinner, at least in my head, our whole lives spun out. Oli full-grown. Our pride as we welcomed him home for Thanksgiving, home to a life we’d all built together. I wanted to tell her I wanted all that, but she was pulling me into a kiss. Pulling me to her, and into the house.
“You really, you want that?”
“More than you know.”
Her kiss was like fire, one leg wrapped around me. I fell into it and into her arms, and we staggered together to the overstuffed couch. I wanted to tell her I’d be home soon for real. I’d apply for that fellowship. I’d do it first thing. And if that didn’t pan out, I’d find something that would. I’d make my way back to her if it was the last thing I did. I wanted to tell her, but I couldn’t think. Couldn’t half breathe, between frantic kisses. She pushed up my shirt. I squeezed her soft thigh. She bit my earlobe and kissed her way down my neck. I let the tide take me, rising desire. I was home in her arms. I was where I belonged. I’d never leave her again, no matter what.
She lay in my arms when we were done, warm and sleepy, her hair in my face. First thing tomorrow, I’d do it. I would. This was home; she was home. My family, Claire and Oli. I’d live out my life with them, whatever it took.