Thanksgiving

This is it. This is when you’re going to do it. You’ve given yourself three months to prepare. It’s enough. It has to be done, or you’ll be stuck with this life forever.

Looking at yourself in the mirror. You see your bloodshot eyes filling with fear and confusion. Fear for what your parents and relatives are going to say; and confusion, for you aren’t sure if this is the right decision. 99% of you are certain, but it is that 1% that is haunting you.

You look down, your fingers are gripping tightly onto the edge of the sink, turning so pale you’re not sure if your hands still exist, or if it’s just the marble white sink you’re seeing. Slowly, you raise your shaky hand and turn on the tap. Your fingers tremble as you put your hands under, splashing the cold water onto your face. The ice cold pierces your skin but you only feel the numbness. Water droplets dripping down your face, you look up at yourself in the mirror again.

Closing your eyes, you take a deep breath. Inhale through your nose and exhale through your mouth. You do this three times and tell yourself it’s alright. That everything is going to be fine; you’re just overthinking.

Gripping the door handle tightly, you turn it a few times before you can get yourself to open it. Instantly, you find the brown cabin walls staring at you, an audience waiting for you to embarrass yourself. You tell yourself you’re just being delusional, but the weight of their silent judgment was dragging you down. All you want is to sink into the floor and disappear so no one can find you again.

As you lift your foot and place it in front of the other. You shake your head at yourself and feel their invisible eyes boring into the back of your head. Fleeing seems like a really good option at the moment, but when you raise your head, you are already standing at the doorway. You pause, they don’t notice you yet. Running away is still an option…

Not anymore.

They see you. Gesturing for you to sit down, you have no other choice but to comply. You sit, and there’s no escape as your grandparents bring in the boiling hot dishes. The smell of the usually comforting food is only making you nauseated. Your heart is pounding fast; your legs are starting to twitch; your hands are sweating. Clasping your hands tightly together, you try to steady yourself. Somehow, you manage to squeeze out a smile as they pile food onto your plate.

The clanging sound of metal against champagne glass made your head snap up. You perk upwards as your father stands at the head of the table and prepares to give his yearly speech. You know what’s going to happen and you are terrified. You can feel goosebumps forming on your arms as he opens his mouth.

Not being able to bear the anxiousness anymore, you push yourself away from the table and stand up next to your father. Everyone’s eyes immediately shifted to your direction and you start to panic. Your fists are clenching and you are shaking uncontrollably. You open your mouth but nothing comes out.

The cabin walls are closing in. You squeeze your eyes shut and struggle to block out the world. Suddenly, someone is tugging at your wrist. You yank your hand away instantaneously. You open your eyes and see that it’s just your mother. She is trying to get you to stop this humiliating act.

You can’t do this. Not here. Not now. Not ever. You will just be forever stuck with this life…

But you don’t want to.

All the adults are still gawking at you. Your younger cousins are focusing on their food, awaiting the second they can dig into this meal. You don’t want to cause a commotion, but you need to do this. You turn your attention away from the rest of the people that you can still call family and face your father. He is frowning, giving you a look of disapproval. Shakily, you take deep breath. Not being able to look at him directly, you look at his shoes and brace yourself for his wrath.

“I’m sorry… But I don’t want to… work at… at Bluebell for the rest of my life,” your quivering voice rang through the silent room.

Still. The room was still. But you can already feel some of the weight of the world lifting off your shoulders. The whole room is holding their breath as you peer up at the man at the head of the table. He is still frowning, but he nods and signals for you to sit. You sit. The room is no longer closing in on you, but all your family members are now giving you glares for ruining the one time of the year you are together.

He gives his speech and everyone devours their cooling meal. The usual buzzing conversations are more hesitant. Speak, pause, look over to him, pause, speak. Soon, the friendly talks turn into whispers; whispers turn into quietude. All that’s left is the noise of chewing and metal forks on fine china.

At last, the dreadful banquet is over. They all disperse back into their rooms as they try to hide from the brewing storm within him. Sticking your hands in your pocket, you hold onto the fabric for dear life. Your pounding heartbeat is returning as he leads you out back. Sitting through that ghastly dinner has left you with a sickening feeling in your stomach; the bad kind of butterflies. His speechlessness is spreading into you like a bug, as you attempt not to throw up the turkey you stuffed down.

He stands in front of you and puts both his hands on your shoulders. You are shivering. Not from the cold, but from the nervousness. Soon, you can’t hold it back anymore. You break down into tears. Letting out a sigh, he pulls you into his embrace.