You make arrangements with your mother to come home with Brittany for Thanksgiving. It makes you feel so strange, knowing she'll spend this holiday with you, but strange in the best way. Last year, you'd been so lonesome for her, even when surrounded by your family, but this year…this year you'll be able to hold Mariana in your arms while she sleeps, and look across the room, seeing Brittany tucked into the bed in your family's apartment. This year, you'll take her to see the balloons, you'll have her sitting near as you help your mother cook the meal, you'll have her at the fireside while you wash the dishes. She'll be close, and you'll feel content.
Brittany takes the day before Thanksgiving off. You insist that she doesn't have to, that you can take the evening train into the city when she's through, but she's adamant about it. So, when you wake up that Wednesday morning, you gather the remaining things you need to pack, and you dress warmly, knowing the winds will whip through the city streets, much in the same way they whip off the big ocean before your home. Brittany dresses too, wearing long-johns beneath her trousers, and you smile at her, watching her set her cap atop her head. You're glad she hasn't chosen to wear a dress, you're glad she's yourBrittany, and when you hug her, you breathe in the scent of the soap you wash your clothes in, feeling very much at home in her embrace.
The train is fuller than it typically is, and you sit close to Brittany, valises beneath the seat. She subtly plays with the folds of your dress, and you sit contently, adoring the way she fidgets so much when she knows she ought to keep still. When you arrive in the city, your father is waiting for you again, and you watch his look of surprise when he sees Brittany step off the train beside you. You assume your mother and the little girls have spoken fondly of how she appears, and you assume your grandmother had something less kind to say, but it still doesn't shock you that he looks surprised, for hearing and seeing are not quiet the same.
"Santana." He murmurs, his hand resting on his cane. "Welcome home."
"Hi, Papa." You hug him tightly, feeling much like you did when you saw him last. "This is Brittany."
"Brittany." He extends his hand, and he shakes it firmly, making her stiffen up her spine and forget the ways she often slumps.
"Dr. Lopez." She nods, eyes more nervous than you've ever seen. "Thank ya for your service. It's so nice to finally meet ya."
"My daughters all speak so fondly of you, so the pleasure is mine."
"They did have a rompin' time when they came out to visit. It was swell to have 'em."
"School was out of session today, so I nearly had a gaggle of them with me. But their mother preferred they do quiet studies this afternoon, as they won't have much time for it this weekend."
"I'm lookin' forward to seein' em."
"So am I." You smile, feeling the pang in your chest that you get when you consider how much they will have grown in just a few short weeks. "And Mama and Abuelita as well."
"Then we ought to move quickly. Come now, we'll find a cab outside."
Your father sits in the front of the cab, and Brittany insists upon loading your things into the trunk while you settle in the back. She finds her place beside her, and you give her a small nod, letting her know that you can tell by your father's inflections that he's as fond of her as the rest of your family. It makes you breathe more easily, it lets you know that he won't challenge your decision to stay, particularly if he thinks that you'll be safe in Brittany's presence.
The girls are on the stoop playing jacks when you arrive in front of the house. Mariana's jacket is off, and you shake your head a bit when you notice it. She always complains she's warm, until night falls, and she curls into bed with another warm body. When they notice the cab, Carlotta drops the ball, and it rolls down the steps haphazardly. They run to you, and as soon as you step out, you gather them up into your arms, crying tears of joy as you hold them close.
"Mama said we could wait outside for you!" Mariana cries out. "We knew you was comin'!"
"Were, love." You correct gently. "And we're so happy to see you all."
"Hi, Brittany!" Concetta beams, sidling up to her. "Tonight you get to sleep in my bed, and I'm going to sleep with Carlotta."
"Thank ya for that!" Brittany grins, tipping her cap. "I'll make sure to return it to ya in tip-top shape when I'm done with it."
"Britt-any, that's funny." Mariana giggles, though she stays in your arms.
"You, Miss, ought to have your jacket on." You tell her, bending to lift it from the step, and drape it over her back.
"We all ought to go inside." Your father's voice booms. "We don't need any sick little girls, or any sick big girls for Thanksgiving."
"Mama got the biggest turkey, Santana!" Carlotta beams. "I helped carry it!"
"Did you, Nina?" You stroke the top of her head. "I see you're helping out, just as I've asked of you."
"I'm the tallest girl now. Even though Concetta is oldest. I can carry the biggest bundles."
"I know you both carry your burdens well. Come on, let us listen to Papa and go on inside. Once we're warmed up, we'll hear all the stories you have to tell us."
When you go upstairs, your mother is making lunch, and you immediately abandon any other plans you'd had in order to help her with the hot soup and fresh bread. She tries to shoo you away, but you won't allow it. You dish out the soup, while she slices the bread, and she smiles warmly at you, the sort of affection you'd imagine from a mother to her new bride daughter. Perhaps it's in your head, but you feel it, like you share something in common with her now, this deep love for another human being. Your love may never bear children, and may never be recognized by anyone else, but it's real, and it's deep, and you imagine, if you could ever tell your mother, that she'd understand.
Through the afternoon, Brittany plays board games with the little girls, sitting with Mariana on her lap, and you help your mother prepare for the next day. While they'd come here as immigrants, your parents had embraced this American custom wholeheartedly, and each year, their small home fills with aunts and uncles and cousins, the product of a shared dream. So, you work with your elbows touching your mother's, cooking sausage for stuffing, setting yeast rolls to rise, peeling potatoes and storing them in a large pot of water so they won't brown before the day is out. When cooking for so many, it's easier to begin before the day comes, and you love doing this with her, you love the smell and the taste and the feel of the kitchen of your childhood.
After you serve leftover soup for dinner, the little girls begin pulling their shoes on. Mariana scarcely remembers last Thanksgiving, but she's bubbling with excitement from the way Carlotta and Concetta talk about the balloons. Your parents won't go uptown with you, the relish the solace that you taking the children brings to the home, but they bid you to keep them close, and your father insists upon giving you a few dollars for cab fare to get them to and from without riding the trains.
This time, Brittany sits in the front seat, and you hold Mariana on your lap, as the two bigger girls spread out beside you on the backseat. You catch a glimpse of your love in the mirror, and she grins at you, winking in such a way that no one can see but you. Your heart swells with love, and for once, you don't imagine if these children were yours. You simply feel her love in spending time with the little girls you love so much, and gratitude overtakes you as the driver whizzes up Fifth Avenue, and toward Central Park.
There's a small crowd gathering when you arrive, and Mariana squeals when she sees Felix the Cat, larger than life. The older girls too press their faces to the window, and you think of Brittany wasn't trying to be grown, she would do the same. They're a sight, when they all scramble out of the car, and you insist the Mariana keep a firm hold on your hand so she doesn't get lost in the bustle. Your father took you to see Felix when you were smaller than the girls are, and you still remember the wonder you felt watching the Macy's employees prepare for the biggest day of their year. Things have changed in the past few years, the war had made things difficult, but standing back and watching this, seeing the American flags that drape from the floats that line up, you remember the blessings the year has brought this country.
"Real fine lookin' things." Brittany says to you, taking your arm as Carlotta and Concetta keep a few steps ahead of you. "That's some cat, huh?"
"You don't know about Felix?" Carlotta turns around, surprised.
"I don't at all, little miss. Ya wanna tell me about him."
"They show 'im before the movies!" Mariana grins, and you squeeze her hand, always appreciative of her excitement.
"Well then, I've never been to the movies, so that explains it!"
"You've never been to the movies?" You gasp, though you don't mean to embarrass her.
"Not ever." She shakes her head. "I used to ask my brother to take me with 'im when he'd go with Mary Ann, but I don't suppose he wanted his little sister taggin' along. I haven't thought much about it since then, if I'm bein' honest with ya."
"Santana! Santana!" Concetta bounces up and down. "Can we take her? Can we?"
"We'll see what Mama says on Friday." You smile at the little girls as the bounce around, making plans, but truth be told, you're as excited for the idea as they are, always wanting to watch Brittany experience something new in the same way she's shown you a new world. "I think perhaps she'll let us go, maybe she'll even join us."
"That'd be swell, Santana." Brittany beams, still spellbound by the festivities that surround you.
You spend another hour there, letting Brittany and the girls take it in. Then, you buy them hot pretzels on the street, and Brittany shares hers with you, giving you the knot in the center because she knows it's the best part, and you swoon a little. Mariana falls asleep before you make it to a cab, and you hold her in your arms, realizing she'll soon be too heavy for you to hold. They're all growing so quickly that it astounds you, and in a way, you feel almost as if they're you're own. The little babies you've cared for since infancy. The sweet little children you kissed goodnight when your mother was taking laundry and mending. The fact that you haven't lost them simply because you've moved away means the world to you, and you're so grateful to your parents that they haven't shunned you for choosing to go without finding a husband.
Mariana sleeps in your arms in the cab, and Brittany sits in the front, and she looks back at you, smiling softly at the sight of you holding the little one, with Carlotta falling asleep with her head in your lap. It's far past their bedtimes, and when you get home, you lay Mariana down, and send the bigger girls to change while you take out your think, laying your nightgown out on the bed. Brittany gives you privacy to change, as is proper, and you do the same to her. You feel her eyes on you as the girls fall asleep, and you cuddle Mariana, looking directly across the room in the dim light that streams through the window. Brittany is only a few feet away from you, and you smile, waiting to see what she does.
"Thank ya." She mouths, holding her hand to her heart.
"For what?" You murmur back, heart fluttering.
"For today. 'S real nice to have a real holiday."
"It's only just begun, Brittany. Wait until tomorrow."
You wake early the next morning, and you leave Brittany and the little girls asleep while you wash up and dress before heading into the kitchen to find your mother already hard at work on yeast rolls. Quickly, you roll up your sleeves, and you stand beside her, helping to portion them out. She insists you stop to have a cup of coffee, but instead, you set it beside you on the counter, sipping as you work on the evening meal. Eventually, you leave her to work on the squash, and when you hear footsteps in the bedroom, you turn on the stove to make eggs, and you pour hot mugs of coffee for your father and Brittany.
She comes out of the bathroom dressed in new slacks and the shirt you'd heavily starched last week. Her hair is in a long braid down her back, and you smile at her, thinking of how beautiful she looks in her boyish way. You're glad she hadn't chosen to secretly pack a dress to wear, worried about the impression she'd make, and she grins at you as you set her coffee before her, and go to put slices of bread in the oven for toast.
"Can I help ya at all, Mrs. Lopez?" She asks, trying, you know, not to lean back in her chair as she does at home.
"That's quite alright, Brittany, you're a guest, and you should behave as one. Santana and I will have our preparations done before long, and when the relatives get here, we'll have more hands in the kitchen than we can handle."
"Alright, well, I could take out the girls if ya wanted, case they were to get underfoot."
"If you'd like to, you may." Your mother nods approvingly, and Brittany flashes you a grin.
"I'd like to very much, anyway I could be'f a help. I'm real good at running errands too."
"Just taking them out would keep them out of trouble. I do believe we've spoiled the young ones, for Santana has been at my side in the kitchen since she was about Mariana's age."
"Well she sure is somethin' special. She's been a real blessing, havin' her around the house since I built it. Couldn't ask for better."
"Brittany." You flush profusely, though you know it's the sort of adoration one might lay on a cherished boarder. "I like to be as much help as I can, my mother raised me so."
"I certainly did." Your mother kisses your forehead, flour covering her arms and right cheek. "And it's so wonderful to hear it's appreciated out there. I much prefer Santana to be in a home with another woman, than living in that apartment as she did. Seemed a bit improper to me, especially among all those men. My heart rests easier now, knowing that she stays with you."
"The timing sure did work out well." Brittany shrugs her shoulders, and though you feel a small guilt for the stories you must tell, to hear your mother say she's at ease with you living with Brittany settles your oft-churning stomach.
Once the eggs and toast are served, and your father retires to read in the sitting room, you help the little girls with their dresses and their hair. Before the leave with Brittany, you urge them to keep themselves neat, and you kiss each of them goodbye as she herds them off to the park. Your heart feels so strange whenever she's with them, and your smile is right on your cheeks as you close the door behind them and hurry back to the kitchen for help.
"She certainly is a different sort of girl." Your father appears in the kitchen, and your stomach swoops, nearly making your knees give way. "Reminds me of some of the nurses I met abroad, so full of ingenuity and ready to work as hard as they can, however they can."
"Her mother passed when she was very young." You tell him quietly, feeling as if you're sharing an intimate secret. "Her father was a captain in the navy in the first world war, and she grew up on boats in the harbor. Seems only natural she'd turn to fishing to make her living. She's certainly got a talent for it."
"Seems as such, a girl of your age building a house of her own. She looks barely older than a child, and your mother has told me of her great successes."
"She would have probably remained the first mate of her brother, had she not lost him, but circumstances had her take over the boat. The men on the island respect her deeply, and I feel safer for that, being her intimate friend."
"I'm glad for that, mija." Your father nods. "I'll have to thank her for assuring that your safe."
"Papa." You shake your head, embarrassed. "It's alright."
Brittany and the little girls come back before company begins to come. Your mother allows Brittany to help peel potatoes while the girls set the table. You brush shoulders with her as you dice bread for stuffing, glad to share the counter in your mother's kitchen with her. It feels like home, and coupled with the smell of roasting turkey and the sound of your mother humming an old hymn, you're content.
When you're through in the kitchen, at least for the time being, you go to wash your face and arrange your hair. It's warm inside, and you're more than flushed, so you relish the cool water on your face. After you're through, and you come back out, your Aunt Rosa and Uncle Tito stand in the entryway, and little Louisa and Marco are quickly finding their place with the little girls. Brittany, for her part, stands off to the side, and you gently brush her arm with your hand, before leading her to greet your aunt and Uncle with you.
"Tia." You smile, letting her embrace you. "It's so good to see you."
"The teacher." She beams with pride, holding your face in her hands. "Ana, I always knew you'd teach children. The little ones have always adored you."
"I've always done what I could do help keep them up from under adult feet." You reply modestly, though you can almost feel Brittany's smile behind you. "TiaRosa, this is Brittany, she came with me from the beach to celebrate with us"
"Ah, of course. Maribel told me all about you, it seems my little nieces can't get enough of you, and wanted to visit."
"I think they just wanted to see Santana." She shakes her head shyly, and looks down at her toes. "It's so nice to meet ya."
It surprises you how shy Brittany is as she talks to your family as they come in. Though it's warm in the apartment, you can tell the pink in her cheeks is a blush, and you wish you could assuage her nerves. But instead, you try to stay with her as much as you possibly can. As you eat dinner, you sit across from her, and when she drops her napkin, you lean down to pick it up for her, squeezing her hand beneath it when you return it to her.
After dessert is through, you end up in the kitchen washing dishes while the men sip brandy on the fire escape, and the other women sit conversing in the sitting room. Brittany pads in, startling you, as you'd thought she was playing with the children, but a smile spreads across your face when you see her. She comes up at your side, and she takes the dish towel from your hand.
"Can I help ya with these?" She asks, tickling the inside of your wrist with her pinky.
"If you'd like to, I wouldn't mind the help. I wanted Mama to sit down and have a rest after all she did today."
"Ya really are so good to everyone. I'd've come in earlier had I known. Carlotta had me showin' the other little ones my jacks trick."
"You'll have them all knowing it before we leave, that's for certain." You hand her the turkey platter, and she dries it, careful not to drop it. "I never knew you were shy, Brittany."
"That's 'cuz I've known most everybody around for my whole life. But whenever I meet someone new, I'm real shy." She confesses, not pretending otherwise. "It wasn't so much with your parents, because they were just one at a time, and I felt like I knew a whole lot about 'em, but today was different."
"Would you like to take a walk together after this?" You offer, scrubbing out the gravy boat. "Get a little air?"
"I don't want ya to walk out on your family. I'll be alright."
"It's alright, I usually retire to my bedroom with a book later on in the evening, when Mama and the aunts talk about their children, and Papa and the uncles drink brandy. I think a walk would be really nice, if you'd like to take one, of course."
"I'd never say no to a walk with ya. I really miss bein' able to touch ya all I like, and I'd like to at least hold ya by the arm."
"I'd really like that too, Brittany."
Together, you finish up the dishes, and then put them away. Once you tell your mother that you're going out for a walk, you manage to gather up your warm things without alerting the little ones to your departure. As much as you love them, you'd rather not have seven small children to watch outside. And beyond that, you'd like just a few moments with Brittany, where she doesn't have to be shy around company, and you don't have to be quite as reserved in your affection for her.
You walk a few blocks in silence, and she takes your arm. There's something about the way she holds it, even if it could be seen by anyone else as just a gesture of friendship, that makes you know just how much she loves and cherishes you. You squeeze her forearm, and she cocks her head to the side, looking into your eyes as you turn the corner.
"I cannot even explain how happy I am that you came here with me. It means everything that I get to spend the holiday with you."
"Feels like somethin' outta one of your storybooks, like the Marches with all the sisters on Christmas Day or somethin'. I never knew Thanksgiving was quite like this, even Mrs. Karofsky doesn't put on such a spread, but it was real lovely. I liked the ice cream best."
"Tia Cristina never forgets to bring the ice cream. It's Papa's favorite too." You rest your head on her shoulder for just a moment, before you lift it back up. "I'm sorry you missed out on Mrs. Karofsky's dinner though, I didn't mean to break your tradition."
"It's not broken if I'm startin' a new one with my lady love. And I think, perhaps, if ya really meant what ya said about stayin' back for Christmas, she'll have us over then."
"I really did mean what I've said, Brittany. I know Mama would have us both back again, but I suppose I'm beginning to feel a bit grown up, as if I should be making some Christmas traditions of my own."
"We're sure got enough trees around our house to cut down a real good one to haul inside, don't ya think?"
"I'd love to do that with you, Brittany." You sigh happily, and you play with the fringe on her scarf. "I love the idea of a cozy Christmas Eve by our fireplace, where perhaps we just wear pajamas and eat Christmas cookies and drink hot cocoa."
"Ya know, for a fancy city girl, ya really are simple."
"It makes me laugh that you think I'm fancy. Papa is educated, but you see how I've lived my life. We're not wealthy by any means, and the fanciest thing about me is that I went to a private school."
"It made ya real smart, that's for certain. But ya know what I mean, ya grew up with all these things around ya, not like me with just the water and sand. But ya still like to do things as I do."
"Nothing makes me more content than the idea of being by the fire with you, Brittany. I've always been satisfied with just my books and the quiet, but now to have you by my side makes it all the better."
"Did ya have fun today?" She asks, looking into your eyes. "Ya seem like ya really are the apple of everyone's eye."
"Both of my parents are older by quite a bit, so I was the first baby in the family. Mama…lost a few babies after I was born." You whisper, not sure you should speak your mother's stories like that, though you remember the times of great sadness. "So I was the only little one for a very long time. I think to see me grown means something to them."
"I wish I had aunts and uncles and cousins. 'S just me and Pop left, so it's awful lonely in our family. Suppose that's why he never cared much for holidays. It was nice to feel a house full today though. I do like your family somethin' fierce, Santana. They're real good folks."
"They like you as well. This morning, my father told me that he's very impressed with you, and he wanted to thank you for keeping me safe."
"Aw, shucks." Brittany blushes profusely, biting her thumbnail. "That's real nice of him. I wasn't sure what kind of impression I'd make on him, being different from other girls, and him havin' such proper ladies around."
"He said you remind him of some of the nurses he knew overseas."
"I really wanted to go, ya know. After my brother went, I thought I coulda been a real good nurse. But I was only sixteen, and then…I stopped bein' so brave after he was gone."
"I think you're so brave, Brittany. Sometimes being brave means staying back and caring for things at home. You had your father and the Alcott to look out for, a whole crew of boys who needed the work you gave them."
"I never thought of it much like that…I just figured the bravest thing ya could do was to serve your country."
"It certainly is brave." You nod slowly. "But Papa told me such a thing, when I talked of becoming a nurse too. He said I was needed more at home, and I did that, sending money to Mama and the girls while he served."
"I sure am glad the war is over." She looks off into the distance, worried, perhaps, that another will come some day and take away someone else she loves. "Feels much better not worryin' all the time."
"So much to be thankful for this year, isn't there?"
"There sure is." She squeezes your hand, just for a moment, and your knees wobble. "'Specially havin' ya as my gal."