Thanksgiving 1989

My oven let out it's final chime as I finished cooking a very small turkey for me to eat for Thanksgiving dinner. School was out, and I planned to hunker down in my apartment until Monday when school started again.

My friends at the chapel had asked me what my holiday plans were, which I always tried to steer clear of. I told them I was leaving town to visit my aunt... who doesn't exist.

I made myself a little turkey, some mashed potatoes, Brussels sprouts, baked some rolls, and a pumpkin pie. A small spread that I spent all day making while listening to the soft tunes of Nat King Cole and Ella Fitzgerald on my record player while enjoying my time alone. It was already growing dark outside, so I popped a bottle of Martinelli's sparkling apple cider to kick off the holiday season and turned on the television.

Besides the food, my apartment smelled divine. I had a mulled cinnamon candle burning, and I had a bowl of pine cones which gave off a sweetly sharp fragrance on my coffee table. A delicious bouquet of bright sunflowers, radiant orange roses, and burgundy chrysanthemums with huckleberries and oak leaves sat in a glass vase on my orange clad dining table, but I was planning on eating in front of the television on my comfy couch.

My phone rang as I was preparing my plate, and I almost answered. I ultimately decided not to, since I wasn't supposed to be home in the first place, and I was giddy to sit on my couch and watch a movie.

The movie was only a couple minutes in when I heard keys jingle outside my door. I figured it was just my neighbor, but my door swung open and it was Tom. He was wearing his brown leather jacket over a nice green shirt, holding his car keys in his hand. One of the keys on his key ring was the key to my apartment that I recently gave him.

I froze with bread in my mouth. He looked about as surprised to see me as I was to see him. I set my plate down on my coffee table and stood up while mumbling, "Tom?"

"What are you doing here?" He asked, putting the keys in his pocket.

"In my home?" I asked after I swallowed.

"I thought you were going to Colorado," he said.

"What are you doing here?" I asked him, ignoring his question.

"I saw your light was on and figured that I should check it out, 'cause I didn't think you would be home and all. I didn't want your lights on all weekend. I called and there wasn't an answer," he said. I almost had forgotten that I gifted him a key to my apartment a bit ago. We spend so much time at his place, we are never at mine.

"How did you call me?" I asked.

He shoved his hands in his pockets. "Phone booth across the street."

"Oh, well, Thanksgiving was cancelled last minute," I excused.

"Thanksgiving was... cancelled?"

"Yep."

He raised his eyebrow and asked, "and you managed to get an entire Thanksgiving meal the day of?"

"Funny, isn't it?" I said while scrunching my nose. "I was going to order KFC, but the bucket lacks dignity."

"Mickey," he said and put his hands on my shoulders and looked me in the eyes. He knows me too well. "What's going on?"

I opened my mouth to deliver another lie, but I finally exhaled and came clean. I ended up spilling about my entire family situation in almost one breath. He already knew about my brothers death, but he didn't know much else. We were not in any contact with my mother or her side of the family, and my father didn't have any siblings. I lost contact with my father when I was eight years old. His parents are dead, so I really have no family. It's never bothered me much, it's my normal.

"Mickey—" he said with a sympathetic tone.

"It's okay," I reassured. "It's been like this since... I can't remember when."

"You've been alone for every holiday?" He asked. The compassion in his voice was at the point of pity, which was what I did not want. If I had an issue with my situation, I would have told him a long time ago. But this was my burden, and I did not need everyone to know of my problems. Besides, I did not think it was that important anyway. I did not see it as a problem like everyone else did.

"I lived with Jenko for a bit and I spent the holidays with him. It's fine, I'm fine. Why would I miss what I never had in the first place?"

"Oh my god."

I paused. "That came out a little more pathetic than I anticipated. But I actually tracked down my dad a bit ago. He lives over in Routeville. I'm thinking about seeing him soon."

I think about my dad often. Too often. I often wonder what his life is like. Perhaps he has taken up piano, or he spends his time watching football on a big television screen. I bet he collects things, like coins, or art, or even antique books. I like to imagine that he has a dog, and takes him on walks around his neighborhood. But, his one mistake in life was letting me go. Maybe he wakes up every single morning thinking how he will be better for me so I can come back into his life. He wants me to come back. I certainly want him back.

Tom smiled. "I think that's a really good idea."

I beamed up at him. It felt good to be able to talk about it with another person. "Me too. I haven't seen him since I was a kid, so I think he will be happy to see me. I just hope he's clean and doing well. Maybe I could spend Christmas with him this year."

"That would be nice," Tom said. Then he asked, "why didn't you tell me?"

"I am. This is me, telling you," I replied satirically.

"You were just a kid... you were supposed to be safe. I'm sorry no one protected you," he said to me gently. "Why don't you come with me to dinner? My mom is making a spread, and I just know that she will adore you."

"Are you sure?" I asked. "I don't want to impose."

"You can meet my moms boyfriend, and my uncles and aunts," he said.

"You want me to meet your family?" I asked. It seemed like a big step in our relationship. It's not like he can meet mine.

"They already know who you are," he said. "They've asked about you."

"Really?" I asked.

"Really." He smiled. "I talk about you a lot."

"What should I wear?"

"Absolutely nothing," he replied with a smirk.

I rolled my eyes and chuckled, "no."

I walked into my room and threw on a black tank top with a dark green fleece jacket over it, I replaced my pajama pants with baggy jeans and I put on my taupe suede clogs after my cream colored socks before I met Tom in the living room. Tom had put away all my food for me to be eaten as leftovers throughout the week. Together we walked out the door together and headed down to his Mustang.

____________________________

Tom knocked on the door of a nice suburban home and we waited for the door to open. The air was getting colder, and a small pile of crunchy leaves had blown to the porch. A woman with dark brown hair opened the door and greeted Tom with a kiss on his cheek.

"And you must be Michelle!" His mom said to me excitedly. She radiated kindness, and her dark eyes looked similar to Tom's.

She hugged me without a warning and I handed her my gift of a bottle of wine with a warm smile and said, "you can call me Mickey, Mrs. Hanson."

"Please, call me Margaret. Come on in, you must be freezing out here."

Tom and I took a few steps inside and closed the door behind us. There was a nearby coatrack with lots of coats and hats hanging from it, as well as a neat line of shoes. I kicked mine off and added it to the line-up. The dining room was to the right, where we saw a long table with Tom's family gathered around it. It wasn't until I was seeing them all that I felt nervous. I was so confident before I walked through that door, so being nervous was not on my mind at all.

"This is Mickey, Tom's girlfriend," Margaret introduced me.

"Hi, nice to meet you all," I said as pleasantly as I could.

They all said versions of, "welcome, Mickey," in bubbly tones.

Tom pulled out a chair for me, and when I sat he pushed me closer to the table before taking the chair beside mine. A plate was soon in my hands, and everyone began passing food around the table. They had a green bean casserole, stuffing, lots of turkey, cranberry sauce, mashed potatoes with gravy, and lots of other delicious foods that I was very excited to try.

"Mickey, would you like a glass of wine? We have red, white..." his mother asked.

"You are old enough to drink, right?" An older lady at the table asked. Her hair was so gray, it was almost a lavender color. She wore thick rimmed glasses, and a vibrant blue eyeshadow with flaking mascara. A cigarette balanced between her fingers, and she took a puff which brought attention to the large beauty mark above her lip.

I chuckled, "yes, I am."

"Grandma..." Tom grunted.

"Mom, what did I say about smoking in the house?" Margaret scolded.

Grandma rolled her eyes and stubbed her cigarette out on the ashtray by her plate. She said, "I only ask because you only work with students. And you said that you met her through work."

"It's not like that. She's a coworker," Tom explained.

"I'll have red," I said to Margaret. I was so nervous, I knew I wasn't going to drink it but I thought it would be impolite to decline.

"We've got Chardonnay, Franzia, Giesen..." she listed.

I stammered and said, "just red." I had no idea what any of those brands were. I was sure that they would all be delicious to a wine connoisseur, but it all sounds the same to me.

She chuckled, "all right. What about you, Tom?"

"Red." He nodded. "Red is good."

"I'll be right back." She smiled and went off to the kitchen to grab us glasses.

I relaxed a bit until one of his aunts spoke up in a raspy and nasally New York accent, "oh, Tommy, she's even more beautiful than you described her."

His aunt had big brown hair with lots of makeup. Her accent was so thick, I barely believed that they were related until I realized that she was married to Tom's dad's brother.

Tom looked slightly embarrassed but I chuckled and said, "thank you."

Margaret came back and handed Tom and I our glasses of red wine and had gotten herself one too. I thanked her, and pretended to take a sip before I set it on the table. I was thankful that there was a water glass already there that I could drink that throughout the meal instead.

"So, Mickey, Tom tells me that you have been his favorite partner at Jump Street," Margaret said after she settled back in her chair.

"Did he?" I asked while looking at him. His brown eyes met mine with the side edge of his finger between his lips. His finger slipped out and he waved softly with a shrug.

"How long have you worked there?" She asked.

"It'll be five years in June," I stated.

"That's incredible. You must be enjoying it."

"I really do." I smiled. "It is very rewarding."

"Hey, Tommy, what did you tell the folks down in Virginia about that job?" His aunt asked. She was referring to the position at the DEA that Tom was offered recently.

Tom reached over and took a gulp of wine from my glass before he said, "I turned them down. I don't think I'm ready to leave Metro just yet."

"Since you're staying longer, why don't you let Ronny stay with you two for Christmas," his aunt suggested.

"Who's Ronny?" I asked.

"He's my cousin," Tom answered while rubbing his temple, as if he was getting a headache.

"My son," he aunt said without acknowledging that Tom already answered. "He's off to college now and he's got to have a place to stay when he comes home."

"What about his room at your house?" Margaret asked.

His aunt took a sip of wine and said, "we cleaned it out. It's my craft room now. What do you say, kids? Wanna have a third roommate?"

"Are you two living together?" His grandmother asked.

"No, Grandma, we aren't," Tom answered.

"I was afraid of that." His grandma sighed as if she just heard that she was just delivered the worst news. "How am I supposed to get grandkids at this rate?"

"Oh my god." Tom rubbed his eye while I started laughing.

"Mom, it's fine. They're going at their own pace," Margaret defended.

"If I could have lived with my boyfriend when I was their age, I would have," his aunt said. "How about it? Ronny?"

"Sorry, Jeanne. I don't have the room," Tom said and took a big bite of his turkey and gulped down his wine so he wouldn't have to answer another question soon.

"What about you, honey?" She asked me. "He can stay with you."

"Well, I don't know your son." I tried to use reasoning as a way to politely say no.

"Then this is a perfect opportunity to meet him," she said back.

"Come on, Jeanne, the girl said no. Don't push her," Margaret laughed a bit.

"All right, all right. I'll just clean out his old room," she said glumly.

"Mickey, did you grow up here?" Margaret asked me to change the subject, taking another sip of her wine.

"In Metro? Yeah. I graduated from Jefferson High."

"She graduated the same school that Doug went to," Tom added. Then, he started gobbling down his turkey and green bean casserole like he was heading to the electric chair. He switched our wine glasses, so it looked like mine was empty.

I don't think Margaret noticed that Tom switched the glasses, but she did notice mine was empty. "Want some more wine? I can bring the bottle out here, honey."

"No, thank you."

"I've got an extra room that you two can stay in for tonight if you want," she offered.

"Thanks, Mom. But we will be okay," Tom promised as he sipped his wine.

I took a few bites of what appeared to be a chicken pot pie slice, but tasted like tomatoes. It was nothing like I have had before, and I really liked it. After swallowing, I complimented, "this pie is delicious."

"Why, thank you. It's a green tomato pie. I'll have to give you the recipe! It's been passed down in our family for generations, and it's Tom's fathers favorite," Margaret said.

I smiled softly, wishing I had the chance to meet his father. It was clear to see that they all missed him, but kept his memory alive by eating his favorite foods on holidays. It was obviously important to Tom and his family.

"He also said that you are studying criminal justice," Margaret said, continuing to eat the food on her plate. The clanks and clinks of silverware on the plates never subsided.

What didn't Tom tell them? They practically knew my life story. I nodded and finished my bite before I said, "yeah. I'm really enjoying it."

"Do I know your mother?" Margaret asked. I could tell that this was not her first glass of wine, unless she is naturally this talkative and nosy.

I shook my head. "I don't think so."

If I haven't met her, I strongly doubt she has met her.

"Well, there is a woman who goes to my jazzercise class that looks just like you," she said, "her name is... Jill."

"Must be a coincidence," I chuckled and took a sip of my water. My mother's name is Susan, so I already knew it wasn't her. Even if they had the same name, the chances that she is still in Evergreen state are astonishingly low.

"What do your parents do?" She asked and I fell silent. It wasn't exactly a question I was ready for, and I did not want to tell Tom's family the nugget of information that took me over a year to tell Tom. I didn't even have a pre-planned lie for this question.

Tom cleared his throat and spoke up, "say, mom, why don't you tell us about that trip you went on in August."

"Oh! Bob and I went up to Canada. It was magnificent! We walked around Vancouver and saw so many geese..." she blabbed on excitedly.

"That's great, mom," Tom said. I mouthed to him, "thank you," and he smiled back. He reached over and grabbed my hand under the table, resting our interlocked fingers against my thigh.

After the dinner, we were all relaxing in the family room with the television turned on. Tom sat next to me on the couch with his arm resting against the back of it. He had his wine glass in his hand, that I think he refilled once more. He said, "I'll be right back." He handed me his wine glass and got up to use the restroom.

His uncles asked me a few questions about myself, and I was able to ask his family questions too. Mostly regarding what they did for work and then we bounced off of that. Eventually, Margaret came out to the family room holding a baby book.

"Tom never brings his girlfriends to meet me. He must really like you," Margaret said and sat down next to me. She opened the photo album and let it lay over both of our laps.

"Is this Tom?" I asked, pointing to a photo of a boy cheesing at the camera. The photo was only of a close-up of his face, with the biggest smile I've ever seen.

"Yes. This is a picture of him... I believe on his first day of preschool," Margaret said and finished her wine. She set the empty glass on the coffee table and flipped the page. She pointed out another photo of Tom as a kindergartener holding his blue lunch box and standing in front of the front door, wearing a Batman shirt.

We flipped the page again and Tom came out of the bathroom. He frowned and walked over to us before he noticed the photo album. He groaned, "what's this?"

"I'm showing your girlfriend what your future kids are going to look like," Margaret said. I bit my lips together to keep myself from smiling.

"Mom," Tom muttered flatly.

"Oh, hush," his mom said with a flick of her wrist.

Tom sat down beside me to look at the photos with us. He took his wine glass back and took a gulp. I pointed to a photo of a man holding a baby, but the man looked just like Tom. He held the adorable baby on his lap, and he was smiling at the camera while the baby was looking off in the distance.

"Is that your dad?" I asked. Underneath the photo was written, "Tom and T.J. 1966".

"Yep, that's my pops," Tom said softly.

"You look exactly like him," I said, shocked by the resemblance. My eyes darted between the photo and Tom multiple times, seeing barely any difference.

"So handsome," Margaret added.

"No, I don't," Tom said, waving off our compliments.

"If it weren't for the year written right there, I would have thought it was you," I said. I peered at the names and asked, "why T.J?"

"Tom Jr." Margaret elaborated.

"Tom Jr., that's cute. You were such a cute kid," I said as I continued to watch him grow up on the pages.

I had no idea why I was so nervous to meet Tom's family. They were so kind, and welcomed me with open arms. I had no reason to feel intimidated, but now I just hoped that they actually liked me. Tom is lucky, he doesn't have to worry about that with me. He's off the hook in that department.

We said our goodbyes and Tom and I got back into his Mustang and drove away. The sun had long disappeared, with the velvet sky covered in a blanket of sparkling stars.

"I really liked your family," I told him.

"They liked you too," he said, not taking his eyes off the road.

"It was so much better than spending it alone."

"You'll never be alone, I'll always be here," he promised.

"And thanks for not getting mad earlier. I should have told you the truth a long time ago," I said. I was embarrassed because I should have admitted this to him much earlier.

"There is nothing in this world that you should feel obligated to tell me," he said kindly.

I truly don't deserve him. He's so understanding and compassionate. He always validates my feelings, even if they can be irrational. It feels like I haven't lived until I met him, and my heart is very sure it will never love someone as much as I love him.

"Still, I should have told you the truth. But I promise, there is nothing else I can think of that I'm hiding from you."

Tom chuckled and let his eyes wander in my direction as he smiled warmly. I turned up the radio and relaxed into my seat, feeling happy just being near him. I was so incredibly thankful for him. This Thanksgiving, I give thanks that he belongs to me and I'm beyond thankful that he opened my door. When I was with Tom, I was home, and there really is no place like home for the holidays.

Next chapter is Mickey getting assigned to investigate a mall Santa! 😁
Don't forget to vote and comment 💕