Chapter 31
Audrey
“Aren’t you supposed to be in bed?” I scolded my father as I walked into the kitchen. A bouquet of mouth-watering scents greeted me as I’d stepped into the house and, just as I suspected, Dad was standing over the stove, wearing his favorite apron.
“A little fainting spell and low blood sugar isn’t gonna keep me from cooking for Thanksgiving,” he replied as he glanced up at me.
“Dad, the doctor said you need to take it easy.”
“I have been,” he insisted. “Right, Rashad?”
“Yes,” Papa’s voice carried through the open doorway leading to the dining room. He poked his head around the corner and smiled at me. “Don’t worry, Audrey. He’s been taking lots of breaks.”
“Which is why dinner still isn’t ready yet,” Dad explained. “If I would’ve gone full speed, everything would’ve been finished and laid out by now.”
Papa shot a sharp look at his back. “Hush up, so you can finish that last dish.” His expression changed within a second as his eyes returned to me. “You go wash up, baby girl. By the time you come back down, the food should be done. If you want, you can help me set the table.”
Nodding, I turned on my heel and headed upstairs. I took a nice, hot shower, rinsing the busy day off of my body.
After my shower, I threw on a comfortable sweatshirt and yoga pants.
Our family never really dressed up for Thanksgiving.
Most of our day used to be spent in the kitchen cooking together.
But with me being low in seniority at my new job, I had to work the day shift.
I couldn’t complain though. At least I still had the night to spend Thanksgiving dinner with my family.
When I came back downstairs, Dad was sitting on the couch, taking a much-needed break.
I joined Papa in the dining room. He was standing over the table, fixing the edges of the tablecloth. Beside him was the small tower of china that only came out for holiday dinners.
“How’s he seem today?” I asked as I grabbed one of the plates and set it in front of a nearby chair.
“Okay,” Papa said with a shrug. “He definitely pushed himself harder than he was supposed to, but you know how he is about Thanksgiving. I couldn’t stop him even if I wanted to.”
“At least he’s happy, right?”
Papa nodded. “Yeah. I just wish he could be happy and know his limits. He always overdoes it this time of year, but he really needs to pace himself.”
I frowned at the reminder.
Dad overcompensated a lot on holidays. For Christmas, he goes all out on gifts. On Easter, he makes sure we all have new outfits and some goodies to pass around. And on Thanksgiving, he never failed to fill the dining room table with a plethora of dishes.
When I was younger, I used to think he did all of that for me.
I was the first child they ever had in their care, so I thought he was trying to recreate the magic around the holidays - one of the important duties of a parent.
Little did I know, the perfect days weren’t only for me. They were for him too.
“Has he told her yet?” I asked.
“No,” Papa replied, though it was more a sigh. “I’ve been trying to convince him, but he just… He always says he’s going to, but never does.”
“Have you tried getting in contact with her? Maybe if she hears from you, she’ll meet him halfway.”
“Nah,” his voice lowered. “She doesn’t want to hear from the demon who corrupted her boy.”
My brows pinched together. “She said that to you?”
“Mhm. Years ago.” He shook his head. “But, that’s not the point. The point is she wants to hear from her son, but after their last conversation, he’s not ready to reach out again. And as much as I want to push him to reach out, I’m respecting all the reasons he doesn’t want to.”
I understood where he was coming from, but the fact still made me sad.
Whenever Dad talked about his mother - my grandmother - he always spoke with the highest levels of admiration in his voice.
Even after all the years they’ve let pass by in silence, he still loved her.
If only she could look past her bias to see the life he’s built. To be proud of him for it.
A knock sounded at the door.
“I’ve got it,” Dad yelled before Papa and I could move from our spots. His heavy footsteps padded from the living room to the front door. “Now, I know you’re not disrespecting my house bringing this store bought shit in here.”
“Technically, it’s from the bakery over on Wallace Road,” Tatianna’s voice echoed through the hall. “And it’s freshly made! See, it’s still warm.”
“Girl, it’s still coming out of a box.” Dad shuffled into the room holding a round, white box in his hands. He held it up to showcase the sweet potato pie inside. “Y’all, look at this shit. I could’ve made this!”
Following behind him, Tatianna raised her hand and plucked him in his ear. “You are supposed to be resting,” she scolded. “And I couldn’t show up to a Davis Thanksgiving empty handed.”
“Then you could’ve bought some wine like you used to.”
“Oh, I did. What do you think Max is hauling out the car? The spirits store over on Cheltenham was having a sale, so I stocked up. I’ve got enough to last all of us through New Years.”
As if on cue, Max walked in behind them, holding a box full of various colored wines and liquors. “Where can I put this?” He asked.
Papa waved him over. “Come on. We’ll put some of them on the shelf downstairs.”
Max followed Papa out of the room, scrunching his nose up at me as he passed.
I would’ve popped him in his head if he weren’t holding a box full of glass and liquid.
“Mhm-mm-mm,” Dad hummed with a shake of his head. His eyes were back on the box in his hands. “So blasphemous.”
Tatianna plucked him in his ear again. “Boy, go put that away and sit yourself down somewhere.”
I giggled as Dad grumbled but complied. He drifted into the kitchen, leaving us alone.
Smiling, Tatianna walked towards me with open arms. “How are you, honey?” She asked as she gave me a tight squeeze.
“I’m okay,” I replied, melting into her embrace. “You?”
“I’m good.” Pulling away, she asked, “How’s work going?”
“Fine,” I replied with a shrug. I started placing the plates atop of the place mats around the table. “Always busy.”
She turned her attention to the wine glasses sitting in a box atop the tables. Carefully, she plucked out each one and set them in front of the chairs. “I’m surprised you’re still on your feet. After a twelve-hour shift, I’d imagine your feet are killing you.”
“Oh, they are,” I admitted. “But, I wouldn’t miss setting this table for anything. It’s been so long since we’ve all had Thanksgiving dinner together.”
“Yeah. So much has changed since then, haven’t they?” Her words sounded heavier than I think she intended.
“Not that much,” I said, trying to counter the weight.
“You’re right. Benny and Rashad are still the epitome of a perfect marriage, I am still happily single, and my boy is still making googly eyes at his best friend.”
I laughed. “Not googly eyes.”
“It’s a good thing. He seems better - happier - now that the two of you are hanging out again.” She paused her task to look up at me and smile. “You’ve always bought out the best in him.”
My cheeks warmed from the compliment. “I try.”
“So, should I start saving my money for a wedding or a baby?”
“Ms. Tati!” I exclaimed, almost dropping the dish in my hand.
“What?” She feigned innocence. “You two are grown now. I might as well start asking the real questions.”
“We’ve got time before we even start thinking about all that.”
“Take all the time you need. But, when the two of you are ready, just know we’re balling all out. Big wedding. Big baby shower. Bigger birthday parties for the little ones.”
Shaking my head, I let her and her delusions be.
We finished setting the table, and we all sat around it together to eat dinner.
For the next few hours, it felt like I was transported back in time.
Sitting next to Max, swatting and kicking him whenever he started with me, and watching our parents alternate between deep and playful conversations, made me feel like I was sixteen years old again.
In the past, I always valued the warmth of the home I had.
Moments like this felt like a snug blanket over my shoulders.
Now, after experiencing loss and reclamation, I appreciated it even more. With my eyes lingering on Dad, I prayed I wouldn’t have to lose anyone ever again. Another blow might knock me down for good.
After dinner, our parents drifted into the living room with their wine glasses while Max and I went into the kitchen to take care of the dishes. He washed while I dried.
We worked in a content silence until I suddenly felt a splash of water on my cheek. “Don’t start,” I scolded, smacking him with the dish rag.
He chuckled. “It’s no fun if I don’t mess with you.”
I yanked the last dish out of his hand and dried it. “Shut up and clean out the sink.”
“Why are you rushing me? Got a hot date or something?”
“Yes, actually.” I almost laughed at the swift turn of his neck and the high cock of his brow. “With my bed,” I finished before he could comment.
“Oh, you’re lucky. I was about to body slam your ass.”
I rolled my eyes. “You weren’t gonna do shit.”
Max’s brow rose again.
Before I could blink, his arms were around my waist and my feet were being lifted off the ground.
“Max!” I squealed, kicking my feet. “Put me down!”
He firmly plopped my ass down atop the counter. He slid his torso between my legs and planted his hands on either side of me, pinning me between his body and the cabinets behind my head. “When are you gonna let me take you on a date?” He asked.
“The other weekend wasn’t a date?”
“A real date. You know, when you get all dressed up and I take you somewhere nice.” His hands slithered from the counter to my legs. Rubbing his palms on my thighs, he added, “A lady as fine as you deserves to be wined and dined.”
I shook my head. “Alright, Casanova. Tone it down.”
He chuckled. “I’m serious, though. When’s the next time you’re free?”
“Saturday night. I’m working during the day, but afterwards I’ll be all yours.”
Grinning, he leaned in closer. “Mm,” he hummed. “I like the sound of that.”
“Aht, aht.” I put my hand over his mouth and pushed his head back before he could kiss me. “If Dad catches us making out on his good counters, he’ll kill us.”
Max dramatically rolled his eyes. He mumbled something underneath my hand, but I couldn’t make it out.
Before I could move my hand to hear him better, a soft knock rang at the door.
“I’ve got it!” I called, so our parents wouldn’t have to move from their seats. I playfully pushed Max away and hopped down off of the counter.
He gently shoved me back, sending me a few steps forward towards the doorway.
Giggling, I continued my trek towards the front door. The smile on my face fell almost instantly as I opened the door.
Behind it was a face I knew well, but didn’t. This one was etched in darkness, lit only by the red butt of the cigarette hanging from his mouth. “Buenas noches,” he greeted, offering me a half-smile. “Is Max around?”