choosing sides.

“That’s what you are bringing?” I was staring dumbfounded at my severely misguided, newlywedded husband who was standing in our kitchen showing me what he had decided to cook for Thursday’s festivities.

“To my best friend’s first attempt at Friendsgiving? The meal she has been texting me about for weeks?” I looked at his phone one more time and shook my head. “The one event she insists is going to be “by-the-book” traditional? And by the book, I mean her mom’s cover-falling-off copy of the Joy of Cooking, that she left her in her will, traditional?”

“Yes! It’ll be great! Just like my abuela used to make.”

“Poor Dakota. I think her head may explode.”

His face fell. He now looked at his phone with the consternation of a little boy whose balloon had just popped and whose ice cream had fallen off the cone and landed on the hot sidewalk beside the shredded balloon guts.

“It was traditional on Thanksgiving at my house.” He said lifting his big brown eyes up to look at me from under his unfairly long, perfect, black eyelashes. He had engaged his deep Hispanic accent.

I couldn’t take it. I had never been able to say no to that face. Nor the accent.

“I will tell her that we are bringing the mashed potatoes and the stuffing.” I conceded. He smiled and wrapped his arm around my waist and pulled me into a long kiss. “But when she sees that it isn’t traditional stuffing, I can’t be responsible for what she does to you.”

“She does not need to know that it is chorizo cornbread stuffing. And she will love it. Because she loves me.” He winked.

“She doesn’t really love you. Or trust you. She told me to stop dating you! So how much lower can you sink in her estimation?” I laughed. Alejandro did not think it was funny.

“I don’t understand why she has never liked me. I am always kind to her. She is your best friend.”

“Maybe too kind to her. I think she thought you were flirting with her in the beginning, not me. And when she found out that you had asked me out, she never trusted you again. And this stuffing is not going to help the whole situation. She’s expecting her grandmother’s side dishes, not yours.”

“Wouldn’t it be nice if we all brought a piece of our traditions to Friendsgiving? It’s eight friends bringing part of their story to share and making a new story.”

“That’s not it at all. Dakota is bringing her friends together because we are responsible for replacing her family on the hardest holiday since her mom died and her dad married a girl who is Dakota’s age, three months later giving her three new siblings and a Stepmonster. She doesn’t know it yet but even if things go off perfectly, who are we kidding? Thanksgiving is built for emotional trauma. She is going to be fighting so many demons about her mom, her dad, her “new Mom” that sticking her hand in the cavity of a frozen bird to get out a bag of innards is going to be the highlight of the day! You’ll be lucky if she doesn’t stab you with a sweet potato covered pairing knife. But bring whatever it is you want to, to go with my super traditional mashed potatoes.”

**

Dakota pulled open the door and there were already tears in her eyes. She was wearing a voluminous parka, a hat with a little pom-pom on top and oven mitts on both hands. She grabbed my hand and pulled me into her apartment with some force. Alejandro followed behind laden with a stack of dinner sides: potatoes, brown gravy, cranberry jelly and the spicy stuffing.

He had started to say, “Why is it so cold in…” but Dak had dragged me unceremoniously into the kitchen leaving Alejo standing like a food covered statue in the middle of the antiseptically clean living room. He didn’t dare sit, set down the food or take off his shoes near the front door. He was unsure if he was to follow us. Dakota’s husband Seth was nowhere to be seen. Alejo thought he must be hiding from whatever beast they were running towards in the kitchen.

I immediately could smell something burning. The smell was worse in the kitchen. “Dak, what is on fire…?”

“It’s the dishwasher!” She shouted. She grabbed me by the shoulders and turned me toward the gaping black hole next to the sink. “Last night, I was washing all my dishes for today and it exploded into flames. Stupid, cheapass builders who put in whatever dishwasher they can get for under $12 to put in all sixty-four units in the building! It was full of my wood handled silverware. It was like a forest fire in here!” Her eyes were bulging out of her face like a cartoon character and the hole where what was left of the dishwasher had been, looked like a crater had fallen to earth in the center of the kitchen. The white foam from the fire extinguisher made it look like snow had fallen for a couple of hours following the crater’s drop to earth.

“Why don’t we just…?”

“The windows have been open all night with a fan running. This is the house after eight hours of mountain chill has been blowing through and it still smells like we are camping in Yellowstone.” She pulled me nearer the sink. She knocked on the white lump that was filling it from side to side. “I had the turkey out to thaw but because of the wind chill factor, it is still solid as a rock.”

“Oh hon. Okay. Let’s make a list of what we do have.” I started with what we had brought with us which was still in the very cold living room.

“I was going to make rolls from scratch but by the time we got the fire out and the fan going, the dough wouldn’t rise. I sent Seth into the city to see if there were any pre-cooked turkeys anywhere.” She opened the oven door. “I didn’t know what to do. So, I baked the pie.”

Once she opened the door, I could see and smell the apple pie bubbling lightly under the crust. It was a thing of beauty. I hugged her around the shoulders. “It looks amazing. I’ll eat that! I don’t need any of the other stuff.” And for the first time, Dakota laughed as she wiped the tears from her eyes.

“I do have salad, sweet potato casserole, and green beans.”

We heard the front door open in the other room. We went back to the living room and found Alejandro standing in the center of the room with the bags scattered at his feet. Seth was standing in the doorway. He, too, had a heavy coat and gloves on. He had a bag in his hand. His head was down, and he was looking at his feet. “I couldn’t find a turkey anywhere. I combed the city. I didn’t know what else to do. So, I brought this.” He held up the bag.

Dakota went to him and looked in the bag. She started to giggle. And then the giggle became a chortle and finally a full-blown laugh. She snorted. Which made her laugh even harder. She handed the bag to Alejo. He laughed too as he handed the bag to me.

I looked inside. It was perfect. “I’ll get these in the oven!” As I turned for the kitchen, I was struck with an idea. I told the others.

Everyone agreed.

We set the table with all of the side dishes. The other guests had arrived, and we added their food dishes to the table. I had sent a quick text to Sadie, and she picked up a bag of rolls on her way to the apartment. Everyone was ushered through the kitchen to see the dishwasher crater. We set the plastic cutlery on either side of Dakota’s grandmother’s fine China plates which she had hand washed before starting the dishwasher. Her centerpiece of live flowers was perfectly preserved in the cool apartment. Her matching linen napkins and tablecloths were draped elegantly to the floor just as her mother had done it every year before.

And when the oven beeped, I brought out Seth’s contribution to dinner: a heaping platter of animal- shaped chicken nuggets.

Our group of eight were seated around the table. We were all wrapped in our coats, a few spare blankets, and a beach towel.

Everyone was quiet as Dakota took the lid off of Alejandro’s stuffing. She took a long sniff. “What is this?” she said with a lifted eyebrow. “This doesn’t smell like traditional stuffing!” she said. She stabbed her very bendy plastic fork into the stuffing and took a bite. She closed her eyes. She drew a long, deep breath. “Oh.” she said and stabbed her fork in the dish again, taking an even larger bite. “Mmmmm.” She hummed with her mouth full. “This is all mine! What are you all having for dinner?”

Everyone laughed and reached for their favorite side on the table to go with their chicken nuggets.

Conversations started around the table. Dak turned to me and asked, “how did he know? I don’t think I ever told you.”

“How did who know what?” I said with my mouth crammed full of warm apple pie.

“Alejo. How did he know what to bring for dinner?”

“I told him not to. I told him you were trying to go traditional for your mom.”

“That’s just it. He got it exactly right.” Her eyes welled up with tears.

I slipped my arm around her shoulders again like I had in the kitchen. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know if I ever told you. When I was young, we had a single woman who lived next door. Her name was Maria Guitierrez. My Dad traveled all of the time. She came over to watch us when my mom worked nights. She was like a second mom to me. My mom invited her to Thanksgiving every year. And every year, she brought chorizo stuffing. It’s like Alejo knew. Knew that this is what I needed. It’s like a message from Maria. And from my Mom.”

“She’s so proud of you Dak. And she would’ve laughed so hard today. And you have been a champion of this crazy day.”

Tears streamed down Dak’s face. “I’m crying over stuffing!” We laughed through our tears together.

I looked up at Alejandro. He and Seth were deep in conversation. I can never tell him this. He will be insufferable if he knows how right he was.

I laugh and shake my head as I realize that I’m married to a man who is perfect at choosing sides.