Chapter 22
Thanksgiving Day is both wonderful and horrible.
And I don’t know how to land with the message that I get from Katrina.
For years, Patrick called on every holiday, announcing who he was and where he was calling from. As if I didn’t know.
“This is Patrick, calling from Cleveland, wishing you a happy …”
This year is different, and thankfully, I am not alone in this bed, but in someone’s arms when I listen to a voice message from Katrina. Her voice is exuberant. Vibrant. Maintaining Patrick’s tradition.
“Hello, my friends! This is Katrina, calling from Cleveland to wish you a happy Thanksgiving! And here is Tommy to send you some love too.”
I laugh and choke-sob as I watch a video of Tommy toddle around and blow kisses per his mom’s request.
“Hi, DiNah! Hi, BobBob.”
His little-man mispronunciation of our names is charming.
After I watch more video of Tommy playing with toys and such, she switches to a video of just her.
“Sorry I can’t do more right now, but I wanted to at least send you something.
” She tries to smile, but rubs a sleeve against her nose.
“You guys are too much of a reminder of him. I love you. I’ll try to do better next time. ”
RobBob texts me a few minutes later.
RobBob: You got the same message I did, I assume?
Me: I did. You as broken up as I am?
RobBob: Absolutely. This shit hurts too much.
But we both text her back with love, incredibly thankful for what she sent us. Reaching out to us was not easy.
Curling up in Dave’s arms helps so much, but I’m worried when I get up that I could be wobbly and weird.
At least Dave seems equally wobbly and weird when he wakes and makes us coffee.
“Are you not into Thanksgiving this year?” I ask. “You haven’t mentioned me to your parents? That’s okay. I can stay here.”
He laughs, but it seems forced. “Oh, I most definitely did mention you. As did ten other people.”
“Ah, that’s why you look so nervous.” I move behind him and wrap my arm around his waist. “Bringing home a girl and all?”
“That’s part of it, yes.” He takes a big sip of coffee.
“What’s the rest?” I ask.
“It’s fine.” He tries to give me a reassuring smile.
Fine never means fine, but I don’t press.
I take my time picking out an outfit and end up in a flowy, deep green mock turtleneck and matching pant set. At least I can sculpt my hair properly now, but it still takes me ages to feel confident enough to leave the bathroom.
“Hey, can you record me reading a few books for Tommy before we go?” I ask. “I’ve been falling behind.”
Dave sort of inhales sharply when I step from the bedroom. “I’m tempted to film other things, but sure.”
I laugh and sit down as I open a book. “Just the story. For now, okay? Apologies in advance for the title, which carries a different theme than what you hoped for.”
He glances at the hardcover of Chicka Chicka Boom Boom and chuckles. “Perhaps not, but this looks cute.”
“The audio is damn cute too.” I wink.
After I send this off to Katrina and fend off advances from Dave for our own videos, it’s rather delightful and beautifully disarming when his parents open their front door and beckon me into their arms.
While I’ve only seen his dad on video, I recognize him immediately. His hug is immediate and so welcoming.
“Ah, finally! The Diana! I’m Dave’s father, Jeremy, and this is my beautiful wife, Georgia.”
He passes me off to Dave’s mom, who also embraces me.
She then sort of pushes me back, her hands on my shoulders, to get a good look at me.
“Jeremy? She’s even more beautiful than we heard! Not that we care, but it’s a cool bonus, on top of hearing how lovely she is.”
They really do know who I am?
Dave’s words soar over us, and I laugh as he says, “God, Anjanette called you both, right?”
His mom moves her hands to snuggle in her son. “She did, that sweet angel.” She pats him on the back and whips around as she leads me through the house. “Follow me. Our spread this year is maybe too much.”
Georgia is not exaggerating. Their entire dining room table is overflowing with, well, everything Maine. Before I can even ask, his mom has her arm around my waist and is grinning proudly.
“Yeah, go ahead and shoot. I’d be upset if you felt this wasn’t worth sharing. And of course I know who you are. Been following you for years. Not trying to plug anything here, just happy to share my home cooking.”
“My absolute favorite.”
I pan across crab legs, trays of clams casino, and the baked oysters Rockefeller. Damn, even trays of split lobsters, cooked Thermidor style.
“Your son is really sweet. Kind of exceptional. He’s so fortunate to have parents that don’t completely suck.
” I can’t help myself. “Dave reads books to my stray cat. I planted that odd idea, but he’s been on board.
Not everyone would. Not sure if he told you.
He’s too modest, so he probably didn’t, but he’s been looking after me and my difficult cat for months. ”
“I’ve heard about the cat and the books. And you. Not all from him, but I’ve heard.” His mom smiles. “From the moment I found out I was pregnant, I read to him.”
“Dave shared that with me. He hasn’t forgotten.”
“I’m just glad it somehow took. And that it’s one of the things that’s helped you two connect. Something special here. But I’ll try to refrain from pushing.” She raises up her plate and moves us through the crowd. “Diana? We are not missing out on the Thermidor, so get in here!”
The guests before us are still hovering over the table, but I don’t hesitate to step in, lest I miss anything, but I turn and wander for a second to grab Dave’s hand so he’s with me as we attack this table.
And his mom is all smiles as I get the three of us to load up plates of this gorgeous seafood and all the sides.
“More German potato salad,” I call out. “And the spicy aioli for the fried calamari that I suspect is Dave’s doing.”
“How did you—” he tries to ask.
His mom about whoops as she rounds the table and adds another crab leg to her tray. “This girl knows your food. More importantly, she seemingly knows you,” she adds. “Will you be here for Christmas too?” she asks.
Jeremy shows up and raises a glass.
It’s not something I’ve thought about, so I have to take a moment—but not a long moment. It’s then I realize and accept that I don’t have an actual home to go home to. At least not one I want to revisit. I survey this family, and while I’m so happy for them, I know I will never have this.
Finally, I answer and affirm, “I will be in Snowshoe.”
This all feels like too much. Too beautiful.
This family is clearly so close and loving and …
well, healthy. Things I cannot relate to in any way.
Amazing parents who love their child wholeheartedly.
Who love each other. I cannot imagine that they’d ever be able to welcome me and my damaged history into their realm.
Dave’s father frowns. “Not just in Snowshoe, but here, yes? At our house? With us?” Jeremy tries to speak softly when he talks to his wife. He has to yell over the crowd. “She doesn’t really have a family, right? That’s just not okay. We’re her family, yes?”
Much to my delight, Georgia nearly jumps up and down. “Damn, yes! And thank God!”
“Okay, crazies.” Dave steps in, and though he’s clearly embarrassed by his parents, he wraps a sweet arm around my waist. “She will absolutely be with us on Christmas Day.”
I lean into him, my security once again. “So, Dave’s dad, I have to ask about you and your mom. She’s how many years old and still on the boat three days a week? Sorting lobsters?”
“Yes.” Jeremy beams. “She’s a hero. Not the oldest hero. We lost that icon a few years ago.”
“Virginia Oliver, yes?”
“Yes,” he says solemnly as he raises his glass.
Virginia was a captain and worked until she was one hundred three and passed not long ago.
I’ve read everything and watched everything about that lobsterwoman and posted about her so many times.
She was truly an icon. It was pleasing to see how many of my followers knew and loved her and how they mourned her passing so deeply.
“Such a loss,” I agree. “But she represented your industry, right? The dedication?”
Jeremy nods. “This is a family business that we love. We’re all in this.”
A rather drunken voice interrupts our conversation. “Yeah, but too bad David copped out, right? He was a great lobsterman.”
Wait. Dave was a lobsterman?
“Killer boat, killer crew, hauled in the cockroaches of the sea and the money. He ran away for no good reason.”
Anjanette must have just arrived, but she scuffles through the crowd and pushes this person out the door. The nameless and faceless voice fades away, but we all heard his words.
“There was a good fucking reason, so you shut the hell up!” Anj calls back, her words and voice loud and clear.
Someone changes the subject fast, but David ambles outside, trying to move casually, but visibly upset, and we all hear glass smash outside.
I’m lost about what is happening.
His father is distraught and takes me aside. “He’s just angry with himself. There was an accident. That’s all. It could have happened to any of us, but he won’t forgive himself.”
I’m totally confused. What are they all talking about? But my heart sinks because something really painful is being resurrected. I just don’t know what.
Anjanette joins us, and before I can say anything, she tells me to go to David.
“It’s not my story, but Dave surely needs to get it off his chest. He’s probably feeling it hard for the first time, as he’s never talked about it, as far as I know, but you are probably the one to hear it.
The person he can finally talk to. To help him through it. ”
Georgia joins us again and nods. “It’s never too late to recover. To thrive. He’s done that. He just doesn’t accept it. Accept how wonderful he is.”