12. Symbiosis
TWELVE
SYMBIOSIS
Rose
“There.” Brit sets the platter, holding the perfectly golden turkey, to the left of her mother. “What do you think of that?” For someone who was near tears a little more than an hour ago, Vance’s sister looks pretty smug.
Though it could also be due to the four beers we drank out back while we waited for the turkey to fry.
“Wow, Mom.” Jacob, sitting one seat over to my right, smacks his lips while holding a knife in one hand and a fork in the other. “That looks good .”
Everyone’s situated around the mahogany dining table.
The matching chairs are ornate with upholstered seats and wooden backs.
There’s a china cabinet to match, filled with long-ago collected knick-knacks and the extra place settings of good china we aren’t using.
As is usual with older houses, the formal dining area is its own room, separated from the rest of the living spaces.
And although it has that untouched, slightly museum-like quality of a room used mainly for holidays and big family gatherings, with our casual attire and everyone’s relaxed attitude, it’s like I’m part of a long-standing tradition. It’s homey.
It's awesome.
“You know, Brittany”—Helen, looking very matriarchal in khaki slacks and a sweater set, surveys the bird as Vance carves it—"I was wary of this whole fried turkey fad, but it does look delicious.” It’s hard to believe that this is the same woman I hug a pole with every Sunday morning.
“Yes,” Matt says, catching his wife’s eye. “Just like Pinterest said it would.”
He jumps in his seat across from me at the table, Brittany having no doubt just kicked him in the shin, though his smile never wavers.
“Well, to give credit where credit is due, it wouldn’t have turned out half as well if it weren’t for Rose’s help.” She nods graciously at me.
I smile, my cheeks tight. The whole point of challenging both Brit and Matt to a chugging contest was to beat them into submission so they wouldn’t be able to mention anything about my turkey procurement.
The last thing I want is to make this day about anything I did.
Or about how much money I spent. It should be about Thanksgiving. About family.
Helen pats my hand, and my face heats. “Yes, such a good girl, my Rosie.”
I can’t remember the last time I blushed.
“But isn’t your family missing you today?” Helen asks me, her concern only making my cheeks hotter.
I finger the napkin on my lap with my free hand, trying to muster up some levity. “Oh no, my brothers are with their womenfolk today.”
“But what about your parents?” Jacob asks.
“I tried asking Mom if I could go to Billy’s house today.
” He leans in conspiratorially. “He got a new hoverboard rider for his birthday,” he whispers, as if that explains why he should’ve been allowed to miss a family holiday.
He straightens. “But she said kids were required to be with their parents on Thanksgiving.” He finishes with a masterful pre-teen roll of his eyes that encompasses both his exasperation at not being allowed to go and his appreciation at being wanted by his mother.
“My parents are dead.”
Jase’s eyes bug out, and Jacob looks down at his plate. “Sorry.”
Well, shit. I hadn’t meant to say that. “Ah, don’t be.” I smile widely as if proving just how okay I am with my parents’ passing. “It was a long time ago.”
“Here you go, Mom.” Vance serves her a few slices of breast meat. His eyes are soft on me before he winks and asks the table, “Who wants a leg?”
The sad tangent forgotten, Jacob and Jase raise their hands and call out, “Me! Me!”
Brittany pouts. “Between the two of you, I’ll never get to have a turkey leg on Thanksgiving again.”
I catch the boys’ eyes. They blink and sit up.
“You can have my leg, Mom.” Jase elbows Jacob, who nods fervently.
“Yeah,” Jacob adds. “You can have mine too.”
Brittany and Matt stare at their boys like they’ve each grown another head.
“Isn’t that nice?” Helen beams. “Such gentlemen you two are turning out to be.”
“True gentlemen are feminists,” Jacob says with a solemn look on his face. “And should always make sure a woman has the first choice when he can.”
Jase nods. “Especially as most of their choices were taken when patriarchal societies were first established to suppress female rights and power.” He looks at me. “Isn’t that right, Rose?”
“That’s right.” I roll my lips in to keep from laughing and raise my water glass to them. “Always knew you boys would make great feminists.”
Jacob and Jase beam at me and raise their water glasses in return. “Cheers!”
Brittany turns to me as I sip, her mouth open. “I’m just saying”—she leans across the table, resting her hand on one of Helen’s, which is still on one of mine—"that if my brother’s an idiot and doesn’t put a ring on it, I’m going to marry you.”
My face heats again. I search for something smart-ass to say to deflect, but my mind blanks. I can’t meet Vance’s eye.
“I’m that replaceable, huh?” Matt nudges his wife, saving me from having to respond. “Thanks for that, babe.”
Unrepentant, Brittany sits back, smirking at her husband. “Any time, honey.”
“Here you go, Brit.” Vance hacks the legs off the bird and tosses them both on his sister’s plate. He throws his sister an indecipherable look.
“Ah…” Brittany frowns at the massacred legs. “Thanks?”
Before I can shake off whatever awkwardness is taking control of my brain and further assess Vance’s expression, Matt lifts his plate for turkey. “White meat for me. You know I’m a breast man.” He chuckles while Brittany rolls her eyes, looking very much like her sons.
“Jeez, Dad.” Jase shakes his head at his father. “Don’t be such a mis-o-gin-iss.”
“Yeah, Dad.” Jacob rolls his eyes with dramatic disgust. “Really.”
The whole table laughs.
“Seriously, Rose.” Brittany toasts me with her wine glass. “We can elope right now.”
“Victory is mine!” I stand as tall as my flat sandals allow me in the inch-deep shag carpet and raise my game controller in the air.
“She’s like a Jedi Master of Fortnite,” Jase whispers to his dad.
“Undefeated I am.” I try to nod sagely, but it’s no doubt ruined by my shit-eating grin.
What can I say? I love winning.
“Har, har,” Jacob deadpans.
Vance’s lips twitch, but he’s still pouting from when I took him out in the first round. He may be able to put shit together in space, but he sucks at video games.
My stomach churns from my sudden movement, so I sit back on the well-worn sofa.
If I’d known there were going to be three kinds of pie for dessert, I wouldn’t have had seconds on everything at dinner.
But not wanting to be rude (and unable to help myself), I still managed to eat a slice of each flavor before settling in to whoop on some Bodaway butt in a knock-out round of Fornite.
“Just you wait, Aunt Rosie.” Jase, sitting on the floor next to his brother, waves his fist in the air with mock anger. “I’m gonna practice so hard that when Christmas comes, I’ll take you down!”
Aunt Rosie. Christmas . His words hit me like a gut punch from his little fist.
I blink back a sudden wave of emotion. Seriously, between the blushing and the wet eyes, it’s like I’ve become a different person.
“Practice never hurts.” I grasp for my normal smart-ass self. “But you’ll need more than a few weeks of it to beat someone on my level.” I point to Vance, sitting in the recliner. “Just ask your uncle how to overcome such overwhelming defeat. He’s gotten loads of practice since meeting me.”
“Har, har,” Vance mimics his nephews’ earlier sarcasm. Then, lightning-fast, he pounces on Jase and Jacob, wrapping a long arm around each and pulling them to the floor. Then the tickling starts.
Matt gets pulled into the pile by his older son, letting Jase hold him down so Jacob can jump on top. Brit and Helen watch from their spots next to me, sipping on their wine, wide smiles on their faces, giving me the impression that what I’m witnessing right now is a rare sight.
I’d jump into the wrestling/tickling pile myself, but as I’ve already reached under the hem of my shirt and popped the button on my waistband, I’ll sit this one out. Besides, I’m gonna pass out in a food coma if I don’t leave soon.
“Ahhh, no…. Uncle Vance—ahh!” Jase’s peals of laughter ring out over the video game’s soundtrack.
“Get ’em, Vance, get ’em!” Brit eggs him on. She catches my eye and mouths Thank you .
I don’t know if she’s thanking me for the turkey again or for something else, so I just smile.
Then I ponder how serious she was earlier at dinner and whether I should book us a flight to Vegas.
Because I can’t remember the last time I had this much fun at Thanksgiving, and I very much would like to find out what a Bodaway Christmas is like.
Vance
Rose falls asleep during the car ride back to my place.
It’s odd sitting next to a sleeping Rose. She’s usually so vibrant, reverberating spontaneity, fun, and enthusiasm for life.
Rose snore/snorts, turning her head toward me. “Victory…” she mumbles.
Smiling, I make the turn toward my apartment.
The quiet is nice too. It’s peaceful occupying the same space as her.
It reminds me of this cool astronomy project NASA is doing at the Marshall Space Flight Center in Alabama.
They’ve been studying the star R Aquarii, which, originally thought to be just one star, is actually two—a dense, white dwarf star and a cool red giant star.
R Aquarii is a volatile stellar relationship, or symbiotic stars. Stars so close that they interact with one another in a similar way.
The white dwarf is about ten thousand times brighter than the red giant, and has stronger gravitational fields, though it’s smaller.
A red giant star is a dying star in the last stages of stellar evolution.
As the star exhausts the helium within its core, the shell containing the gases burns carbon, getting hotter and hotter, heading toward supernova.