INGREDIENTS OF THANKSGIVING

THE MEAL ITSELF

It seemed to be going really well. Going back… well, months, at least, Jeff had very occasionally imagined introducing Annie to his mother as his girlfriend. In his imaginings Doreen varied from doting on Annie, who was of course the best person in the world, to carping at Jeff about how she was too young for him, to complaining that Jeff would ruin her life the way he'd ruined his own, to pointing out flaws of Jeff's that Annie hadn't noticed and thus prompting a breakup, to enormous vistas of awkward silence punctuated with terrifying demands for grandchildren. But it seemed to be going much better than he'd imagined it would.

There were enough people that dinner was a multitable affair, with mostly Shirley's family at one table, mostly the Greendale people at another, and the kids at a kids' table. Abed and Britta and a woman whose name Jeff hadn't learned were arguing about Apples to Apples, for some reason, but Jeff was, of course, far more interested in the conversation with Annie and his mother. She was peppering Jeff with questions about the last few years of his life, who the people who weren't Annie were, and so on. Troy, on Doreen's other side, did his best to charm her with anecdotes about Jeff being alternately lazy and dashing.

Annie was being atypically quiet, Jeff had noticed, but other than speaking less and listening more, she seemed fine. Jeff's mother was on her best behavior, as well; Jeff was canny enough to realize that Doreen wanted Annie to like her; if she didn't then it would be another excuse Jeff could use for not visiting more often. At least for as long as he was with Annie, which (don't think about it, finishing this thought leads to stress, think about scotch and breasts, scotch and Annie and breasts, scotch and Annie's breasts). He snapped to attention.

Doreen was laughing at Troy's story about the time he and Jeff had found a trampoline, and the strange janitor. "And you just believed him?" Doreen asked Jeff, smiling.

"Well, it's not like you encounter actual Nazis every day," Jeff said. He smiled sheepishly, which his mother had found charming for going on thirty years now. "Neither of us questioned it. He said he was getting a maze tattoo… okay, maybe I should have realized something was up, but there was a trampoline. I was distracted."

Doreen chuckled, shook her head and turned to Annie. "Did you know about this?"

"Um, after the fact," Annie replied. "Pierce broke both his legs on the trampoline, so, yeah."

The genial mood dampened abruptly, as Doreen's smile faded.

"He recovered," Annie assured her. "He was addicted to painkillers for a while," she added reluctantly, "but he's fine now."

"He's in Las Vegas this week I think," Jeff interjected, to take some heat off her. "Because what could be more Thanksgiving than that, right?"

"Obviously I must meet this Pierce," Doreen said, gamely shifting the mood. "He sounds like a real character. I didn't know there were lasers in Buddhism at all."

"Pierce's version, anyway," Annie said. She leaned over towards Troy, and changed the subject. "Tell her about the pillow-blanket war."

"Pillow-blanket war?" Doreen glanced at Jeff before turning to Troy. "Yes, tell her about the pillow-blanket war."

"Not much to tell," Troy said, and immediately gave lie to that assertion by spinning out the entire seventeen-part documentary drama of pillows and blankets that had engulfed Greendale for two days the year before.

Doreen interrupted him with laughter several times. "What were you doing during all this?" she asked Jeff, at one point. "Were you a pillow or a blanket?"

Jeff shook his head. "I spent the whole time bugging Annie. She set up a nonsectarian first aid station."

Annie nodded slowly. "But you ended the war."

"Only because you made me," Jeff retorted. "She does this thing… I've told you." He pointed to Annie with a fork while addressing Doreen. "She looks at you, and… well, not like that," he said, noticing Annie was glowering at him.

Doreen grunted in a manner that Jeff interpreted as yes you've told me many times how she prods you into doing the right thing, and smiled at his girlfriend.

"It's true, it's true, he's wrapped around my little finger," Annie said to Doreen with a smile that didn't make it all the way to her eyes. "Now if you'll excuse me, I need to use the restroom real quick." She rose quickly and almost ran out of the room.

At this point Britta tried to bring Jeff, Doreen, and Troy into the Apples to Apples argument on her side — something about cultural literacy and whether the choice of which cards to include was in itself a political statement. Also whether a child born after 9/11 could be expected to know who Ginger and Mary Ann were.

Jeff, like all reasonable human beings, couldn't care less. "I'm going to grab a refill," he said, standing and waggling his empty wineglass.

On the way to the kitchen he saw the bathroom door was open and the room dark. In the kitchen he texted Annie.

JEFF to ANNIE, 1743:

Are you ok?

ANNIE to JEFF, 1743:

Don't text at the table! [Shocked face emoji]

Who raised you?

Oh yeah supermom

JEFF to ANNIE, 1744:

I'm in the kitchen

Are you ok?

ANNIE to JEFF, 1744:

Garage

Seconds later Jeff opened the garage door and entered. Annie stood, arms folded, staring thoughtfully at Shirley's garbage cans.

"Hey," he said, closing the door behind him. "What's the problem? My mother loves you."

Annie turned. "Of course she does, because I have your approval and she adores you," she snapped.

Jeff gave her a perplexed look. "What's the problem?" he asked again.

"Your mother is sweet and even though you barely talk to her she's just happy to be here and included. And she's laughing at all the jokes." Annie shook her head. "When you got up before? She asked me how you were doing, because she wasn't sure that you were on track to graduate and you wouldn't tell her if you weren't, and she just wants to… she just wants to be part of your life!" Jeff saw angry tears forming as she tried to blink them away.

"Ah." Jeff nodded slowly, thinking he understood. He walked to her and embraced her; she rested her head against his chest and let him hold her.

"Why do you get to have that?" Annie whispered. "Why don't I get to have that?"

"Do you want her?" Jeff offered. "You'd take better care of her than I do. Go on walks with her, get her the nice canned food, play with her…"

She pulled back from his embrace and swatted him in the chest. "No! Did you hear what I said? She asked me if you were going to graduate because she didn't know and she didn't trust you to tell her!"

"I am going to graduate," Jeff protested. "Four years, as per the usual."

"That's not the point!" Annie swatted him again. "She didn't know… she didn't know Britta's name!"

"She knew your name," he pointed out. It seemed weird that Annie would even want Doreen to know Britta's name; wasn't his mother's ignorance yet another piece of evidence that he adored Annie?

She tilted her head in a way he recognized as signaling anger. "Only because apparently you couldn't describe the last four years even glancingly without mentioning me. Not because you've made any effort at all to tell her about your life!"

"Okay, yes," Jeff admitted, stalling so he could think for just a moment. "But she knows Britta now, and Shirley, and Troy and Abed and especially you, the brightest star —"

"Oh!" cried Annie. "You are not trying to sweet-talk me!" She spun around and stomped away from him a few feet. "You were at Greendale for a whole semester before she even knew you hadn't actually been to law school!" she added, over her shoulder.

"Annie," Jeff said, sighed. "I know I haven't been the best son. I was ashamed when I flunked out, and I didn't want to let her down, and…"

He trailed off when she turned and eyed him coldly. "We're going to talk about this more later. Right now we're going to go back inside and make sure your mother has the best possible time. Then you're going to make plans to see her again. Specific plans! Don't you smile at me," she warned.

"I can't help it," he said, rubbing the back of his neck and grinning at her. "Okay. You're joining us for whatever we're doing, though."

"Well, obviously." Annie smiled shyly at him, then set her jaw. "I'm still mad at you, mister," she said, pointing at him.

"I know, I know." He cocked his head at her and tried not to think about how quickly he'd caved. "You're just really cute."

COFFEE AND DESSERT

Shirley had made five different pies, of course. Pumpkin, apple, pecan, some kind of custard, and lemon meringue. Abed's first dessert was pumpkin pie with a scoop of vanilla ice cream. There was no obvious reason not to take a second dessert, he decided; there was plenty of food. He cleaned his plate and waited until everyone who wanted pie had already gotten some. For second dessert Abed took a small slice of each, excepting the custard, which he didn't like the look of, and another scoop of vanilla ice cream.

Ronette was still sitting across from him, even though everyone else had drifted away from the table. She sipped a cup of coffee. "Someone likes pie," she said, as he sat down.

"Pie's good," Abed said as he debated which of the four slices to eat first. Pecan, he decided.

"You know," Ronette said suddenly, "I never got a chance to ask — what's your major? Shirley said you were a student, but I never heard what you were studying."

"Film," Abed replied through a mouthful of pecan pie. He was pretty sure he'd said that, but decided against correcting her.

"Do you have plans for after graduation in the spring?"

"Not graduating." Abed took another bite of pie. "I'll be short a bunch of credits. Maybe next spring."

"Oh? Did something happen? I don't mean to pry," Ronette said. She made some kind of facial expression.

Abed tried to mirror it, and then her expression changed to confusion, which was one he recognized, so he stopped. "Nothing happened," he said instead. "I just haven't been in a hurry to finish. There's a bunch of distribution requirements I still need."

"Oh, I see." Ronette took another sip of her coffee and watched Abed eat. "I'm a junior at CU," she said after a minute.

Abed nodded. It made sense; she looked about the right age for it.

"Education major," she added.

"Cool." Abed dug into the pumpkin pie. "The pecan pie was pretty good, but the pumpkin is still better," he declared.

Ronette stared at him a moment. "You do get that Shirley was trying to set us up, right?"

Abed nodded. "Oh yeah, I caught on to that pretty quick. And even if I hadn't gotten it right away, seating us together at dinner was a dead giveaway."

"Okay." She stared at him a moment more, before shaking her head. "Well. I guess I'll leave you to your pie…" She started to get up.

"I'm sorry?" Abed offered, because sometimes that helped. "I'm getting the sense I've offended you somehow."

She paused. "I guess I'm not used to guys having such a palpable lack of interest."

Abed blinked. "You're very pretty, but we don't have anything at all in common," he pointed out. "Do we have chemistry and I didn't notice? I can usually tell."

Ronette shook her head.

"Should I have been faking interest?" he asked. "I thought that would just waste both our times. In media when a blind date goes sour they cut away so you don't get to see how the people deal with it. Although this isn't really a blind date."

She held up her hands. "You know what? I've embarrassed myself enough for one night. Bye, Abed."

"Bye," Abed said. He sighed as he moved on to the apple slice. Shirley was probably going to corner him and chew him out for being rude.

SOCIAL ANXIETY III

"I need to grab one thing. Two things. Three, tops." Annie rushed into her apartment and on into her room, leaving Jeff in the living area. He sank onto the couch and considered taking his shoes off — it had been a long day — but decided to wait until they were back at his place. He settled for leaning back and closing his eyes. Brunch with his mother on Sunday, he thought. What had happened to him, that he had become a man who made brunch plans?

A sharp knock at the door roused him. Thinking Abed or Troy had forgotten their keys, he rose and threw the door open without a pause.

The future stared him in the face. The Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come. Annie 2099. Future!Annie.

Future!Annie was the same tiny size, she had the same complexion, but she wasn't identical to the Annie that Jeff knew and loved. Glasses, for one thing. Also Future!Annie's hair was wavier, cut shorter, and she wore it loose. A dark pantsuit, and high heels. And, of course, she was older. How much older was hard to say — ten years, maybe a little less. Her face was sharp in places Annie's was soft, and there were dark circles under her eyes.

In a flash Jeff ran down the possibilities, settling on the one that seemed most plausible. Annie had an older sister she'd never mentioned. She was estranged, which was why Annie had never mentioned her. It was Thanksgiving and, in the spirit of having met Jeff's mother, Annie had invited her over in an attempt to reconcile.

For a microsecond and entirely against his will Jeff found himself cursing the universe for introducing him first to the firecracker girl whose life he was trying not to ruin, and only second to this ersatz copy who was clearly closer to him in age. If Annie were a decade older fully a third of his anxieties would probably be resolved. Although with another decade of life under her belt, Annie might know better than to get involved with a guy like him...

Behind him, Annie said something that derailed his entire train of thought: "Hello, mother."

Of course. Damn, she didn't look like she could be Annie's mother. Child bride? Really good genes? Annie was involved; it had to be the excellent genes.

"Annie." Annie's mother smiled with the lower half of her face. She extended her arms for a hug. "It's so good to see you," she said flatly, as though Annie were an old work acquaintance she'd encountered at a cocktail party.

Rather than embrace her mother, Annie stepped slightly closer to Jeff. He slid an arm around her.

Annie's mother lowered her arms. "Don't tell me," she said to Jeff. "You certainly aren't Troy Barnes, so you must be Abed Nadir." The woman extended a hand for him to shake, or possibly kiss; the gesture was ambiguous. "Sadie Parker-Edison, charmed."