I suppose almost everybody who posts here has a story about how Thanksgiving was strange in different lives, but the truth of the matter is that Thanksgiving is strange for us every year. Firstly, Kutter's birthday is in the last week of November, and has fallen on the day of the holiday a couple of times. It's led to some jokes about how, even when it doesn't actually fall during the break, Thanksgiving is "Kutter's Birthday (Observed)".
The other reason is that, six years and one week after Kutter was born, the boys' mother died. It was an accident of the most incredibly fluky nature, and I hope that readers will understand that I not only don't want to go into the details on this blog because it still hurts but because it's something could be used to uncover the kids' full names, rather than just the nicknames I use here. This year, Thanksgiving came late enough as to be uncomfortably close to the anniversary.
So that's why our holiday celebrations at home are kind of unconventional; we made a habit of forgoing the traditional turkey dinner to have a birthday party, with a fancy cake and Kutter's favorite foods (which has progressed from chicken nuggets to pizza to last year's Ethiopian), maybe going to the movies while everyone else is gathered for dinner, so that he doesn't feel overshadowed by everything else. As the kids grow up and their classmates don't really have birthday parties anymore, it's starting to seem unusual, but we don't have much in the way of extended family to complain, and it was probably going to evolve into something else when Kutter went to college.
This year, we had been girding ourselves for scattering to visit the girls' families for Thanksgiving, but that never came to pass - being able to work holidays was a condition when I took my job at the bookstore, Monica's family is on the West Coast and chosen to expect her at Christmas rather than Thanksgiving ever since she started college, and Kutter just doesn't hear much from Katey's folks at all. I half-joked with them about not getting into any trouble during the long weekend while I was at the bookstore, finally putting in as many hours as they did. Enjoy the Macy's Parade or something.
Which they did. And then they came home and started on Thanksgiving Dinner.
Obviously, they weren't going to surprise me with this - it's not like either could fit a turkey into the dorm fridges in their bedrooms and I do most of the cooking, so I know the contents of what's in the kitchen refrigerator better than they do - but I was surprised nevertheless. After their troubles just making some burgers, I'd kind of figured on them giving up for a bit, but instead Kutter did what Kutter does, looking stuff up and plotting the whole day out, with separate responsibilities for herself and Rusty, a chart that showed what would be using the oven and the stove's two large burners when, and notes on what stores would be open should they need to quickly grab a pie or cranberry sauce or the like should they mess up.
But they didn't mess up. I got home at 12:15am, still a bit buzzed from one of Rusty's energy drinks at 6:30 or so (they actually do taste all right once you get used to them, though they would probably have dangerous amounts of caffeine even if I were my proper size, and I am not my proper size as Emilia), and saw the table set with three places, the turkey carved, a boat of gravy, mashed potatoes, stuffing, rolls, cranberry sauce, some green beans, and a bottle of wine. Rusty was just taking a pumpkin pie out of the oven, setting it on the counter to cool, but gesturing her hands to the table. "Ta-da! Thanksgiving dinner!" Then she pointed at Kutter. "My girl could manage a restaurant."
Kutter laughed. "I mean, we're mostly talking about sticking things in the oven and watching them."
Rusty shook her head. "Do not believe her. You know Kutter is an anal freak at the best of times, and she had alarms going off all over the apartment to make sure she basted regularly."
"Dude, please, do not call me an anal freak while we're like this. How many times do I have to ask?"
I tried not to snicker as we sat down at the table. It's more or less square so it doesn't really have a head, but they sat on opposite sides so I was between them, and both looked in my direction. I took a breath and let it out.
"Okay, we haven't done this in ten years or so and we didn't really say grace then, so I'm not really sure what I'm supposed to say here. It feels kind of silly for you to be looking to me for any words of wisdom right now, since you're the ones who have mostly been paying the rent and keeping things going, right down to cooking this meal. But, then, I guess that's what I'm thankful for - that the two of you could rise to the occasion when I couldn't do everything a father should. I'm thankful that for all the dangers a young woman can face in the city - which I must admit to having been too dismissive of in the past - we have so far avoided most of them. I'm thankful that the family living our lives have more or less kept them in good order, and haven't made any noises about keeping them." The girls laughed, and somehow the pause gave me a moment to get a little more choked up. "But most of all, I'm thankful that, if this had to happen to any us, it happened in a way that we were able to stay together. Because, guys, I don't think I could have done this if I had to worry about you two being off with some strangers."
Rusty and Kutter nodded their heads. "Yeah." "I don't think I could have done it without you two either." Rusty tried to give a little half smile and lifted his glass, and we clinked them together before taking a sip and digging into our meal. Which... I mean, the girls did a good job, but it was mostly turkey and mashed potatoes and white rolls - the cranberry and gravy was doing a lot of the work.
So that's how my sons and I had our first proper Thanksgiving in a decade at one in the morning in a small Brooklyn apartment, as three young women who aren't genetically related to each other at all, and have been eating leftovers ever since.
-Aidan/Emilia
1 comment:
Those girls are killing it!
Post a Comment