"I was born a house cat by the slight of my mother's hand."

Rick and Sharon Nichols, Alex's maternal grandparents, lived in a quaint house in Natick, Alex's favorite city after New York. Every time she walked into their house, she felt like a child again. Her grandparents spoiled her and, once they found out she had a girlfriend, they started spoiling Olivia as well. As the only grandchild, there were pictures of her all over the house ranging from pictures of her as a baby to pictures of her and Olivia in their Halloween costumes. Alex was surprised to learn that wasn't the only picture of Olivia her grandparents had. There were now pictures of her in her high school basketball uniform and one of her working in the tool shed with Alex's grandpa Rick. The two of them assembled a shelf for Alex's grandma, which wasn't a particularly difficult task, but Alex enjoyed seeing her girlfriend wearing a tool belt.

Alex spent the entire Thanksgiving morning helping her mother and grandmother prepare dinner. She was a horrible cook and the two of them wished Alex would watch football with her dad and her grandfather instead of making a mess in the kitchen. Alex's mind was on Olivia the whole time, which caused her to nearly drop a bowl of mashed potatoes and burn her mom's pumpkin bread. Alex started crying when she smelled the burned pumpkin bread and her mother rushed over to her side.

"Alexandra," she said as she held her daughter close. "Sweetheart, what's wrong? Is it Olivia?"

"I'm so worried about her," Alex admitted. "I invited her over here, but she wouldn't come. She said she had to visit her mother."

Alex's grandma Sharon made her way over to her daughter and granddaughter. "Honeybee, I know you love the girl, but she needs to be with her mom."

"Mom, there's something wrong with that woman," Mrs. Cabot said. "I don't know what it is, but something about Olivia's home life isn't right."

"Alexandra!" Alex's grandpa called out.

"You better go see what that man wants," Mrs. Nichols urged her.

"What, Grandpa?" Alex called out on her way to the living room.

"Come look at cheerleaders with us," he insisted.

"Rick, she doesn't like cheerleaders," Mr. Cabot told his father-in-law.

"Sure, she does," Mr. Nichols told him. "Alexandra likes broads and anyone who likes broads likes cheerleaders. Grab yourself a beer, Alexandra."

Alex looked at him nervously. Was this a trick? It had to be a trick. "No, thanks, Grandpa. I don't drink."

Mr. Cabot shook his head at his father-in-law. "She's only eighteen. Alexandra is too young to drink."

"Eighteen is plenty old enough," her grandpa argued. "By eighteen, you had already knocked up my little girl."

"He didn't knock me up, Dad," Mrs. Cabot shouted from the kitchen. "We were married."

"Just barely," Mr. Nichols told his daughter. "I may not be the smartest man in the world, but I know Alexandra was born nine months after your wedding day."

"Maybe I will stay in here," Alex told her grandpa in hopes that it would calm him down.

"But no drinking," Mr. Cabot told her.

"Why not?" Alex's grandpa asked him. "Let the girl drink beer and look at broads. It'll be good for her. You don't want her to grow up—weird—do you?"

"I'll watch the game with you, but cheerleaders aren't my type," Alex said as she made herself comfortable on the couch. "I like basketball players—one basketball player in particular."

"Alexandra isn't attracted to feminine young women," Mr. Cabot told him. "They aren't her type."

"I really don't have a type," Alex informed them. "If I have a type, it's Olivia and only Olivia. She's the only girl I've ever kissed and the only girl I've ever wanted."

"She's a good kid," Mr. Nichols told Alex. "Well, as good as you can get for a Yankees fan. Smart kid, though, knows her stuff when it comes to the sport—every sport, really. What d'ya know, I finally met a native New Yorker I can respect."

"Alexandra!" Mrs. Cabot called out. "Come here."

"But I'm looking at broads with Grandpa," Alex said and winked at her grandpa.

"Dad, what did I tell you about that word?" Mrs. Cabot asked. "It's demeaning."

"No, it's not," Mr. Nichols argued. "We used it all the time in dubya dubya two."

Mrs. Cabot just shook her head. "Dad, you weren't born until 1947 and Mom told me all about you two when you were Alexandra's age. You both were pacifists. You burned your draft card. You even dropped out of college and lived on a hippie commune just outside of San Francisco—where I was born out of wedlock and delivered by a midwife and then cared for by all the women in the community instead of just my parents."

"Count your blessings, young lady," Mr. Nichols told his daughter. "It was a hippie commune and we named you Jolene when you could have been named Moonbeam."

"You wanted Alexandra's middle name to be Starlight," Mrs. Cabot added. "Alexandra Starlight Cabot. I could just imagine that."

"Oh and that's worse than Alexandra Miriam Cabot?" Mr. Nichols asked. "That sounds like the name of a stuffy old broad or even worse—it sounds like the name of a lawyer. I swear to you, Jolene, if Alexandra grows up to be a lawyer it would be the death of me—the death, I tell you. It's bad enough you have her at Harvard and you married a CPA. Jolene, you never even taught Alexandra how to cook. That girlfriend of hers is an athlete—she's in training and she needs a home-cooked meal every now and then."

"Olivia is actually very independent," Alex told her grandpa. "She doesn't need me to do everything for her."

"It's not about needing you to," Mr. Nichols began. "She's like the man in the relationship and you're supposed to be taking care of your man. That's how society works. When you two are older, Olivia is going to be the breadwinner while you work until the children are born."

"You're amazing, Rick," Mr. Cabot said in his daughter's defense. "How is it that you managed to go from being a hippie to being a male chauvinist in a matter of minutes?"

"I think this is my cue to leave," Alex said in hopes that her absence would prevent an argument. "I have to call Olivia."

Alex grabbed her phone from her purse and hurried upstairs so she could have some privacy. When she checked the screen, she noticed only one text message, which was a 'happy Thanksgiving' message from Amber. There was nothing at all from Olivia and Alex was becoming even more worried than she already was. It wasn't like Olivia not to text her. She realized Olivia was with her mother, but Alex knew, regardless, she should have a few seconds to send her own girlfriend a text message. An internal debate began as to whether or not she should call Olivia. She missed her and she wanted to hear her voice, but what if calling her would upset her mother? Then again, why would it? It was going to be a quick phone call and it wasn't as if Olivia and her mother had guests; it was only going to be the two of them. With that in mind, Alex quickly pushed number two on speed dial and heard Olivia's phone start to ring. After ringing four times, it went to voicemail. Alex could have left a voicemail and gotten on with the rest of her day—but that wasn't good enough. She now had an even stronger need to hear Olivia's voice and to make sure she was okay. After the twentieth phone call, she finally received a response from Olivia.

"Stop calling me" was what the text message said.

"Why? I need to hear your voice."

"Leave me alone Alex."

"How do I even know this is you"

Less than thirty seconds after sending that message, Alex's phone started to ring. She looked at the screen and saw that it was Olivia calling her. As much as she wanted to hear her voice, she was hesitant to answer her phone for fear of Olivia saying something hurtful.

"Liv?" Alex asked.

"I'm so sorry," Olivia responded. There was something different about her girlfriend's voice. Alex could have sworn she was whimpering, but she didn't want to assume anything.

"Are you okay, babe?"

Olivia avoided the question. "Go spend time with your family. I'll see you on Sunday. I love you, Alex. You're my girl."

Alex wanted to tell Olivia that she loved her, too, but before she could get a single word out, Olivia had hung up. Alex found their entire conversation unsettling and she had no idea what to make of it. Why did Olivia even go over there? She doesn't need her mom for anything. I know Olivia loves her, but why? She's verbally abusive and she doesn't deserve Olivia's love. Before Alex could even attempt to stop herself, she felt a tear drop fall. I need to do something about this. My girlfriend can't spend the rest of the weekend with that woman. What if she's hurting her?

Alex wiped her tears and slowly left the room in hopes that her parents and grandparents wouldn't notice that she had been crying, but she knew there was no use in trying to hide it. Before Alex could even make it to the staircase, she saw her mom waiting for her.

"Come here, my little honeybee," Mrs. Cabot said to her daughter.

Alex didn't care how childish she might have appeared. She hurried over to her mom and started crying the moment she felt her mom's embrace. "How did you know?"

"I just know when my little girl has something on her mind," Mrs. Cabot said, gently running her hands up and down Alex's back.

"Why can't Olivia's mom treat Olivia the way you treat me?" Alex managed to ask through her sobs. "Olivia has so much love to give. Why can't her mom see that? Why can't she love her?"

"What happened to Ms. Benson isn't Olivia's fault," Mrs. Cabot began. "But she can't see that. She can't see the beauty that came out of what happened to her. Olivia is a good kid; she's a blessing, if you ask me."

"I know this sounds selfish, but I feel like Olivia was made especially for me."

"That's not selfish at all," Mrs. Cabot assured her. "I'm sure Olivia feels the same way about you. If she didn't, she wouldn't have given you that ring. I know it's only a matter of time before she gives you an engagement ring and your father and I are helping you two plan your wedding. If you want a wedding, I mean. Don't feel as if you have to have one."

"I want one," Alex told her. "I want to wear a beautiful dress and look like a princess for Olivia."

"None of that princess talk," Mrs. Cabot teased. "You're my princess. I'm not letting any other woman have you."

Alex started smiling. "You have to, Mom."

"Don't remind me. It's bad enough I know you're not a virgin anymore."

Alex's eyes bulged. "Mom!"

"I'm sorry," Mrs. Cabot told her. "Your father and I still like to pretend you're wearing a chastity belt."

"Mom?"

"Yes, Alexandra?"

"I don't know what to do about Olivia. I know I should try to enjoy this holiday, but I can't get her off of my mind," Alex admitted. "I'm so worried about her."

"There's nothing you can do," Mrs. Cabot told her. "Olivia isn't going to let you go over there and neither am I. She knows she's welcome here and, if she's ready, she'll come to you. You can't do anything to convince her."

It wasn't the answer Alex was hoping for, but she knew her mom was telling her the truth. There was no way her parents would let her go over there and, even if her mom were to join her, Olivia was far too stubborn to leave with them. The only thing Alex could do was try to enjoy the rest of the holiday and hope for the best for her girlfriend.