New Way to Celebrate Thanksgiving

New Way to Celebrate Thanksgiving

By LuAnn Williamson

      “Don’t make me go!” Andrea knew her voice sounded whiney and petulant, much like a spoiled child, and she didn’t care.

      “Andrea, we’ve both got to go,” Josh, her husband, said while making sure the diaper bag was packed and the deserts were stacked on the table and ready to go out the door when the baby woke up from her nap.

      “It’s your Father,” Josh said, trying to keep his voice level and reasonable.

      “Sperm donor,” Andrea corrected him. “Father is as father does.”

      “I know you’re still angry with him and you feel deserted. Even when you’re an adult, with a family of your own, it doesn’t make what you see as betrayal any easier to take.”

      Andrea though she should have known that Josh would take his side. They’d been buddies ever since Andrea started dating him.

      He picked up a tote bag from the bedroom and put it on the floor next to the table.

      He brought out a small box with a bow on the top. “I’m not totally unsympathetic.” He held out the box.

      Giving him a skeptical look, she lifted the lid. There was a small joint of marijuana.

      “It’ll take the edge off,” Josh said, checking off the list on his cell phone. He went over to where she was sitting on the big, overstuffed chair, perching on the wide arm of the chair. He lit the joint for her.

      “This is as close to an olive branch as we’re going to get,” Josh said as he slowly exhaled.

      “I’d rather have that olive branch sharpened into a stake and run through his cheating heart.”

      “I know. All we have to do it is to show up, eat a little bit. I have a “way out” planned, if we need to take it.”

      “What?”

      “You’ll see,” he smiled mysteriously. Andrea was ready to say something cutting but his dimples seemed to wink at her. She decided to use her mouth for something more interesting. She kissed him instead.

      Josh tried to keep Andrea distracted as they drove to her Father’s house in the next town.

      “Are you sure this is the place?” Josh asked as he pulled up to a modest house, painted white, neatly maintained.

      Andrea double checked the address. “Yes. Besides, it’s white. You know how my Dad has a thing about white houses.”

      Josh laughed. “Yeah. He says “I live in the white house.” He did a good imitation of the man.

      Andrea laughed despite herself.

      They climbed out of the car, with Josh getting Lexi, the baby, out of her car seat. Andrea waited, not wanting to face going to the door alone.

      Standing together, Josh loaded down with packages and Andrea with the wiggly seven month old in her arms, rang the bell. Westminster chimes sounded from the bell. “Yep, Dad’s house, alright,” Andrea said. She had a vision of her father rewiring the bell to play his favorite tune.

      They heard sounds of footsteps, shuffling feet and cries of, “I’ll get it!”

      The door was opened by an average woman, chubby and smiling with long, hair so dark it was almost black. Dark brown eyes crinkled as they smiled and thick lips smiled but also betrayed a twitch of nervousness. She looked like she could be any age with just a tiny bit of wrinkles near her eyes and corn furrows between her brows. Andrea knew she was forty two. And much too old to be having a baby let alone her half-sister, just three months older than Andrea s own child.

      “Thank you for coming, Andrea, Josh,” she said. Her hands fluttered as if they didn’t know what to do. In one sweeping realization, Andrea knew this meeting was difficult for her, too. It couldn’t be easy to meet the daughter that your husband had left his marriage for.

      “Welcome! Come in,” her hands seemed to have found their purpose at last. She directed them into a living room decorated in a style her Mother would call “Early Garage Sale.” But it was neat and exuded a homey feeling.

      Her Father was sitting in a battered rocking chair with the baby that was her half-sister.

      “Excuse me if I don’t stand up,” he said gruffly. He gestured to the infant almost asleep in his arms.

      “Please sit down,” Rhonda gestured to the sofa. “Can I get you some wine?"

      “No thanks, I’m still nursing,” Andrea said. Rhonda looked toward Josh.

      “Beer, please.”

      “Coke, if you have it,” Andrea felt the distinct urge to bolt. She reached for her husband’s hand. He gave it a reassuring squeeze.

      Rhonda came back a moment later, their drinks, along with a beer for her husband.

      There was an awkward silence for what seemed like forever.

      “Would you like to meet my sons?” Rhonda asked hopefully.

      “Yes,” Andrea managed to say, through a throat that seemed reluctant to form words.

      “Boys, please come out here,” she called. Two boys came out of their room at the end of the hall. Both had their mother’s dark eyes but the older had dark hair and the other had brown hair, both with the popular short haircut.

      “This is Jerome,” she touched the older boy lightly on the arm. “He’s twelve and in the sixth grade at Jefferson.”

      He looked to his mother for a clue. She nodded. He walked forward, extending his hand, first to Andrea, then to Josh.

      “Happy to meet you,” he said in a strong voice. His handshake was firm.

      “This is Peter,” she rested her hand lightly on his back. “He’s eight years old and in second grade.” She gave him a little nudge. He didn’t move from her side. “He’s a little shy.”

      “It’s OK,” Andrea said gently. “I’m happy to meet you. Hopefully you’ll feel more comfortable when we get to know each other better. I want you to meet Lexi.” Andrea held her wiggling baby up for them to see. The baby smiled at them. She did the magic only babies could do by melting hearts. Jerome came over to them right away and started to play with Lexi, making faces and making her laugh. Peter joined him and started to make faces.

      “Bart, why don’t you put Jenny in her crib? We’re almost ready to eat.”

      The chairs didn’t match each other and none matched the table. However, the table was set with lovely china, even if the silverware didn’t all match. Cute hand drawn, neatly lettered place cards were at the table, telling everyone where to sit.

      “These are so adorable,” Andrea exclaimed as she touched the construction paper turkeys. 

      “We did,” both boys said virtually in unison.

      “I did the cutting out,” Peter said.

      Both of them launched into a detailed discussion of the how they created the decorations on the table, on the wall and the refrigerator. Peter showed a talent for art.

      Her Father cried as he said grace. He usually did. Andrea managed to feel a bit of sympathy. It couldn’t have been easy, the path he’d chosen.

After waving away Andrea’s offer to help, Rhonda served a lovely meal. The food was delicious, worthy of a fine restaurant.

      Of course, in the way babies are prone to doing, Jenny woke up in the middle of dinner. Rhonda went to get her and proceeded to nurse her as she tried to eat around her.

      Once Peter got over his shyness he became quite the chatterbox. Andrea and Josh heard about their schools, which Ninja Turtle was the best and the eternal contest, Batman versus Superman.

      They were just putting away the leftovers when Josh’s phone rang.

“Josh. This better be important.”

      Andrea couldn’t hear the other half of the conversation.

      “Yeah. Did you hit the reset button? Check the flow? Yeah. We’ll be there but it’ll be at least an hour, probably more.”

      Josh looked sheepish. “I wish we could schedule our crisis better.” He started to pack up their things.

      “Do you have to go?” It was almost a chorus. Even Bart said it.

      “I’m afraid so,” he looked sad.

      “When can you come back?” Jerome asked.

      “Soon,” was his non-committal reply. “Maybe your family can come see us. We can see the holiday lights downtown.” He shouldered the diaper bag. “In the summer, we can go to the zoo.”

      Once they were in the car, Andrea turned to her husband, “Was that the way out that you had planned?”

      He grinned and looked a little smug. “Yeah. Always leave them wanting more.”

      “I’d say that for an olive branch, it was quite tasty.”

      “Are you ready to forgive and forget,” he asked hopefully.

      “In a perfect world, yes, but this world is far from perfect,” she snapped.

      They rode in silence for a few minutes, the baby asleep in the back seat.

      “The kids are cute,” Andrea finally admitted. “Maybe we can ask them to come over and see the holiday lights.” They rode on, into the gathering twilight. “Maybe Christmas shopping can be my own olive branch, just let me save the mistletoe just for you.” She gave him a sly smile.