Chapter 7 – Hippie Thanksgiving
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"My parents called me. Their flight arrives at noon," Sara told Nick as she put her jacket on and shut her locker.
"Are we picking them up?"
"No, they said they'd cab it. They're staying on the Strip. Bally's."
"Who's staying at Bally's?" Catherine asked as she walked into the locker room.
"My parents," Sara answered.
"They're not staying with you?"
"No!" Sara said a little too forcefully, getting a look from Catherine.
"You know, we kept your bed and put it in the spare bedroom for a reason. It's called a guest bedroom. For guests," Nick playfully chided.
"They said they didn't want to hassle us."
"You didn't even ask them," Nick gave Sara a look.
"Well that's what they would have said if I did," Sara replied.
Nick rolled his eyes. "You off tonight Cath?" Nick turned to Catherine.
"Yep. Lindsey and I are going to my sister's," Catherine said as she grabbed her purse and jacket from her locker.
"Well have fun," Nick smiled.
"Happy Thanksgiving," Sara added.
"Thanks, you too," Catherine said as she headed out. "Hey Warrick, Happy Thanksgiving," she said to Warrick as he was coming in.
"Yeah, it'll be real happy around here, I'm sure," Warrick replied sarcastically.
"Oh, poor baby," Sara teased with a pouty smile.
"Hey, we can't all have Thanksgiving off. Crime never takes a holiday, you know," Nick said.
"Yeah, yeah," Warrick grumbled.
"We worked last year," Nick pointed out. "We'll see you later, man," Nick patted Warrick on the back as he and Sara headed out.
"Later. Have a good Turkey Day," Warrick said goodbye to the two.
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"I think my arm is about to fall off," Sara complained as she shook out her arm to relax her muscles. She stared at the bowl of partially mashed potatoes in front of her.
"You're the one who insisted on real mashed potatoes." Nick stood at the stove stirring the gravy. He let a ladleful drip back into the pot and wrinkled his brow in dismay when he noticed it was lumpy. Maybe if he sliced up some mushrooms and threw them in, nobody would notice.
"It's the only way to make mashed potatoes. Those soap flakes in a box are not potatoes."
"They taste the same."
"They do not."
A loud cheer erupted from the TV in the living room. "That better have been a Miami touchdown. If Philly wins the Cowboys drop two games back in the division," Nick explained as he wiped his hands on a dishtowel and went to check the score. Sara continued mashing her potatoes, having no idea what Nick was talking about.
"Damn!" Nick cursed when he reached the TV. A few seconds later he came sulking back into the kitchen.
They continued cooking in silence for several minutes before Sara spoke. "I think I should apologize in advance," she said.
"For what?"
"For my parents."
"Would you stop with that already? Seriously, it can't be that bad."
"Would you stop saying that it can't be that bad?" Sara countered. "Because it can. And it will."
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Nick and Sara were cleaning up the kitchen when the doorbell rang. Sara let out an audible breath. Nick smiled reassuringly at her as he took her hand and they went to answer the door.
When Sara opened the door, Nick was immediately struck by the peculiarity yet familiarity of the two people staring back at him. The peculiarity lied in their unique fashion sense; while it wasn't like they were stuck in a time warp and wearing tie-dye and bellbottoms, their bohemian manner of dress left little doubt that they were products of the hippie generation. Sara's mother was wearing a long, floral printed dress and sandals, her frizzy red hair extending halfway down her back. Sara's father was wearing a vibrant button down shirt that Nick could only describe as a 60s version of a Greg Sanders shirt, khakis and Birkenstocks, his gray-streaked brown hair, which was almost as long as Sara's, pulled back in a low ponytail. The familiarity lied in their physical features; there was no doubt that these people were Sara's parents. Sara's prominent cheekbones and pointy chin she got from her mother, while her eyes, nose, and tall, slender build she got from her father.
Sara's mother immediately smiled upon seeing her daughter. "You look…skinny. Have you been eating? Does she eat?" she looked at Nick, who just smiled.
"This is Nick," Sara introduced.
"It's nice to meet you, Mr. and Mrs. Sidle." Nick gave them his best smile.
"Ooh, very nice teeth. You probably drank your milk when you were young like your mother told you. I could never get Sara to drink hers," Sara's mother rambled. "But please, it's Rosemary."
"And Lou," Sara's father added, extending his hand and giving Nick a hearty handshake.
"Please, come in," Nick smiled again.
"Are you joining us for dinner? Sara didn't mention anything about company. She never tells us anything. Oh, not that we mind," Rosemary quickly added as she stepped inside.
"Uh…" Nick didn't know how Sara wanted to tell them they were living together.
"So these are your new digs?" Lou asked Sara, glancing around the living room. "Nice. Homey."
"Actually, I live here with Nick," Sara said calmly.
Rosemary's head quickly snapped toward Sara. "Did you get married? Without telling us? Again?"
Again? Nick's eyes shot a glance at Sara, which Sara either didn't notice or pretended not to.
"No," was Sara's firm yet simple reply.
"Are you pregnant?" Rosemary asked.
"No!" Sara scoffed resentfully.
"You still have a job, don't you? Working at that lab? Criminal science or whatnot?" Sara's mother continued.
"Criminalistics," Sara corrected. "And yes, I still work there," she sighed, trying to suppress her mounting frustration. "Why don't you guys sit down," she gestured toward the living room couch. "We're not quite ready to eat yet."
"Do you need any help?" Rosemary offered.
"No, no, we can manage. You just relax," Sara forcefully insisted.
"Oh, almost forgot. We brought wine. Napa Valley's finest," Lou handed the bottle to Nick.
"Great, thank you. I'll go open this up and bring you each a glass. Make yourselves comfortable," Nick said as he and Sara headed for the kitchen.
As soon as they entered the kitchen, Sara started pacing back and forth and rubbing her temples, exhaling audibly.
"That wasn't so bad," Nick teased.
Sara shot him her iciest glare, the one she usually reserved for only the dirtiest of scumbag suspects she faced in the interrogation room.
"Well it can't get much worse," Nick tried to comfort Sara as he opened the bottle of wine.
Sara scoffed at Nick's naïveté as she continued her pacing.
Nick poured a glass and Sara immediately grabbed it and started to guzzle it down. "Hey," he reached for the glass to stop her. "Calm down." He took the glass from her.
"I can't do this."
"It'll be fine. We'll face them together. I'm not going anywhere." Nick leaned in to give Sara a gentle kiss.
"That's what I'm afraid of."
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"So, Nick. Is that short for Nicholas? Can I call you Nicholas?" Lou asked.
"It is. And, uh, sure, I guess," Nick replied.
"So Nicholas, what do you do?" Lou continued.
Sara let out a small but audible groan. Let the games begin.
"I work with Sara," Nick answered.
"Is that a Texas twang I here?" Rosemary asked with an exaggerated drawl.
"Yes ma'am," he played up his drawl with a grin. "I grew up in Dallas," he added, his voice back to normal.
"Is your family still there?"
"Some. My parents and most of my sisters."
"Do you still visit?" Rosemary looked at Sara when she spoke.
"Yeah, when I get the chance."
"Most of your sisters? How many do have?" Lou asked.
"Five. And one brother. All older."
"Ah, good strong sperm. You should be proud son!"
Nick smiled awkwardly; Sara reached for her wine glass and emptied it in one swift gulp, immediately pouring herself some more.
"You know, just because I had only one child doesn't mean I don't want tons of grandkids!" Lou winked.
Sara almost choked on her wine. "Can we talk about something else please?"
Sara's mother either didn't hear or chose to ignore Sara's plea. "Speaking of, are you two getting married? You know, you're not getting any younger Sara. I'd like to see at least one grandchild before I die."
"Look, we're not married, we're not getting married, and I'm not pregnant." Sara snapped. "Can we just drop it?" Sara's anger was evident.
Nick looked at Sara as she scowled down at her plate and poked at the scraps of food. Everything her parents had said since they arrived had struck a nerve with Sara, but the issue of marriage and kids seemed to be particularly sensitive. When Sara said 'we're not getting married' that just meant that they didn't have any plans as of yet, right? She wasn't discounting the idea entirely, was she?
He and Sara had never openly talked about it with each other, but the thought had crossed Nick's mind a few times. No brain-racking profundities, just a few brief musings here and there. Since he never put much thought into it, he knew he was in no way ready to get married yet, but he wasn't ruling it out by any means, and he hoped that Sara wasn't either. He'd put more serious consideration into the idea when the time was right, but for now he was just enjoying being in love with Sara.
"You do have sex, though, right? That's always key to a healthy relationship," Rosemary said. "Have you tried tantra? Lou and I found that-"
"Okay!" Sara abruptly stood up. She had had enough. "Who wants coffee?" she blurted out the first thing that came to her mind, anything to get her parents to stop talking. "I'll go put some on," she offered before anyone could answer. She turned and practically ran into the kitchen.
After a few seconds of silence, Rosemary turned her attention to Nick to continue the conversation as if nothing had happened. "So Nick, have you and Sara ever tried-"
"I think I'll go see if she needs help," Nick quickly said as he excused himself and went to the kitchen. He walked in without Sara noticing him, and he stood back and watched as she noisily clattered around the kitchen, slamming drawers and cupboards as she made the coffee. When she finished she crossed her arms and stood glaring at the machine.
Nick approached her and wrapped his arms around her waist, resting his chin on her shoulder. "You okay?" he asked after holding her for a few seconds.
"Great," she replied sarcastically through gritted teeth, her tense body failing to relax in Nick's comforting embrace.
"I'm sorry," Nick comforted her as he kissed her cheek.
"It's not your fault."
"I wish there was something I could do."
"You can tell them to leave." She wasn't trying to be funny.
"They're your parents," Nick replied, knowing she was serious.
Sara let out a sigh, her body finally relaxing as she leaned into Nick. "Then can we leave?" she joked.
"Not until after dessert," Nick teased. "Nobody leaves before tasting the great Stokes Family pumpkin pie."
"I don't see what's so great about. It looks like a regular pie to me," Sara glanced over at the pie sitting on the counter.
"It's all in the secret ingredient. Passed down from my great-great grandmother. Family secret."
"I bet I can figure out what it is," Sara challenged.
"How?"
"I have ways to make you talk," she teased as she turned around in his arms and kissed him, pulling away quickly just as Nick started to get wrapped up in the kiss.
"Oh, so it's like that, huh?" he raised an eyebrow.
Sara only smiled as she removed herself from his embrace and headed out to face her parents once again.
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The rest of the night progressed without further damage, mostly due to the strenuous efforts of Nick, who asked Sara's parents every question he could possibly think of, not because he particularly wanted to know the ins and outs of running a bed and breakfast or how to successfully grow yellow squash during the damp Bay Area autumns, but because it took the heat off Sara and prevented them from asking their rather candid questions.
Sara closed the front door and peered out through the peephole. She let out a giant sigh of relief as she watched the cab drive off. She turned and leaned back against the door to face Nick, who was standing behind her.
"You survived," he smiled at her.
"Barely," she replied with her head back and her eyes closed. She was exhausted, physically and mentally.
Nick took her hand and led her to the couch, plopping down next to her as he put his arm around her. Sara's head instinctively dropped to rest on his shoulder.
"Thanks," Sara said after several seconds of comfortable silence.
"For what?"
"I know you couldn't care less about how sage and thyme aromatherapy can lower your cholesterol."
"Hey, you never know when that might come in handy," he teased. He waited a few seconds before speaking again. "You know earlier, when you told your parents we were living together?"
"Yeah?" Sara knew where this was going. She knew he was sharp enough to pick up on that one word her mother had said, and she knew he'd get around to asking about it eventually.
"When your mom asked if we got married…" he wasn't sure how to ask.
Sara sighed. "It was in college," she started. "It started freshman year, first semester. There was this grad student TA I had for physics. I ended up doing really well in the class, and Johnny got me a job working under the same professor that he was studying with."
Johnny? If Nick had said it out loud it would have sounded smug.
"And that's how my interest in physics started. Johnny taught me more than I ever learned from my classes. Brilliant, brilliant guy. So I kept working during my four years and I helped out on this project he was working on for his thesis. And I kind of developed this crush/idolization thing. I never acted on it or anything, I guess because I had him on pedestal and was too scared to. And I figured he only saw me as some overachieving undergrad anyway."
Sara paused to take a breath before continuing. "So this goes on for four years. Jump to senior year, just after graduation. My friends and I wanted to celebrate so we took this impromptu trip, to Vegas, actually. So the last night we're here, we're having this pretty wild night, and we run into, of all people, Johnny and his friends, who were there celebrating someone's birthday. Well the rest of that night was fuzzy, we were all pretty tossed, but the last thing I remember before passing out was running down the aisle inside some cheesy little chapel, clinging to Johnny's arm to keep my balance, our friends throwing rice at us."
Sara looked up at Nick, but received only a blank stare. "We had it annulled when we got back to Boston."
Nick thought for a minute, letting it all sink in. An older guy. Really smart. Taught Sara a lot. She worshipped him and pined over him for four years.
Hmm. Oddly familiar.
He let it go. That was in the past, over and done with. And it was beside the point anyway.
"Well say something," Sara said impatiently when Nick remained mute.
"I don't know what to say."
"Well are you upset? Do you hate me now? Do you think I'm crazy? What?" Her gaze turned cold as she looked at him.
Nick looked at her, taken aback. "What? No, it's nothing like that. I don't hate you. I'd never think any less of you, no matter what you've done." Nick couldn't believe Sara would think he'd be angry with her.
"So you're no upset." It was more of a confirmation than a question.
"No, of course not. I'm just a little shocked. I'd never expect you to do something like that."
"So you just think I'm crazy," she smirked.
"I always thought you were a little crazy," he teased. "But that's why I love you." He gave her a kiss.
"I was drunk," Sara reiterated, in a last ditch effort to defend her actions.
Nick rolled his eyes and smiled. "Well we all do crazy things we regret. Especially for love."
"We do, do we?" Sara challenged with a raised eyebrow, wondering what kinds of stories Nick was keeping from her.
"Um…no. Maybe later," he grinned.
"Oh, c'mon. After the hell I went through tonight, I could use a good laugh," she begged.
"Later," he said again as he got up. "Besides, we have a kitchen to clean up."
Sara groaned. Now she remembered why she never really liked cooking. The cleanup.