Happy Thanksgiving! Again, Murphy's Law (or Sod's Law) says anything that can go wrong will, but not at your house.
A chocolate cigar for everyone who knows what's on the table besides shade, conflict and complaint.
I enjoyed writing this far too much and I'd like seconds ;)
As always, enjoy x
Wednesday 23rd November 2017, 8.19pm, Galah Apartments, Washington Street, West Village, Manhattan
Sometimes Joss stood in front of the mirror too long; picking at parts that weren't there before, analysing, overthinking. It wasn't the emerald midi wrap dress that bothered her because it had an adjustable belt to accommodate Evelyn's however-many dishes. It was the company and John knew it. The AirMerica flight carrying her aunt, cousin and nephew was landing in an hour and she wasn't looking forward to CeCe's salty side. The one that came out when she didn't give her money. If friends and money didn't mix, how much more for family?
"These or these?" She asked, holding up the silver and gold pairs of teardrop earrings.
"The first ones." He guessed.
"You always say that."
He rubbed her lower back. "You're nervous. Don't be."
"Easier said than done, or did you forget what happened in Summerville?"
"I could never forget." They both laughed. "If you feel guilty, don't."
She sighed and smoothed down her dress. It was the first time she'd dressed up in recent memory because Operation Neptune had her worn down and up all night on consecutive night shifts. "I'm trying not to. CeCe hates her job. Aunt Tullie told me."
"And your job is a cakewalk. She's not your problem, Joss. I am."
"Don't say that."
"I should've been a better soldier in Summerville. Stood by my squad. I know that now." She would never admit that that sentence took the air out of the deer story. "I got your back, Joss, whether you like it or not."
"I like it." She stated, for once and for all. "Very much."
8.25pm, Evelyn's Condo, Williamsburg, Brooklyn
"Hah!" Evelyn exclaimed with the sound of victory at her Thanksgiving dress zipping all the way up. "It fits."
"Of course, it fits. That's what happens when you cut down on sugar." Gregory hinted, because pre-diabetes was no joke.
"That's not a compliment, Greg."
He gave something to get something. "What size is it?"
"A 10 but if Cammie asks it's a-"
"9. Single digits."
"You know me so well."
Thanksgiving Day, Thursday 23rd November 2017, 2.10pm, Evelyn's Condo, Williamsburg, Brooklyn
Cammelia Frasier was big mad because the world was conspiring against her and the triplet of bad things that hit her branch of the family tree were equally intolerable. Not only did Hamilton leave with a pop tart from the office but she had to watch him load the removal van with restraint under the watchful eye of a local police officer from the domestic violence unit because, apparently, he was afraid of her. He left her with nothing more than he brought the day they married and she quickly learnt there was nothing to gain from their third failed marriage than a headache and a bad credit score. Her daughter had successfully fulfilled the terms of her DUI (which was a shameful secret never to be mentioned again) but the call centre Saturday job wasn't something she could brag to her neighbours about. And finally, she had to scrape her "Proud to be a Gamecock" bumper sticker off and there was scratches where it used to be that she couldn't afford to fix. And because Cammelia was big mad she spread that feeling over her sister's Thanksgiving dinner.
Shirley Caesar would be proud of Evelyn's offerings that year, but the holiday was distinctly lacking cheer. CeCe finished her second glass of red wine (because she didn't have to attend the driver awareness courses anymore) and started a new conversation to break the volley of Joss and John's subtle eye-sexing between bites. She was already insecure about her son's indiscretion, and everyone talking about it behind her back (though they weren't), and desperately needed a win. "Reggie picked up right where he left off, no repeats. Can't wait to see my boy graduate on time."
"Which course?" Gregory asked, dishing more potato salad.
"Business Management – Finance track." Reggie answered, hoping to ride the dinner out beneath the parapet.
"Ahhh." He said approvingly. "I'm glad you've settled."
"Settled?" CeCe repeated, with more spice than required.
"Settled in." Gregory clarified. "With the job and all."
"Oh, sorry. Of course, he has."
"Where's your job?" Joss asked.
"On campus, cafeteria. Nothing big."
She nodded, while CeCe shot an arrow her way with her eyes. "There's no small job. Tay said you have friends there already."
"Some." That wasn't exactly true, the girls he knew were Aleesha and #TeamAleesha which included her roommates and all the Champagne dancers too. Reggie knew this first hand from getting the cold shoulder in the stands. And despite being an HBCU, he wasn't feeling brotherly love from the Bulldogs in the cafeteria or anywhere else. He felt everyone was looking at him, whispering about his failure, when in fact no-one cared at all.
Joss wasn't used to him being short with her, but then again, they were past the Christmas presents and clothes phase. "We moved around a lot when I was a kid. Three elementary schools, two middle schools, two high schools. It happens, but you'll make it across that stage just the same."
Her kind words weren't well received by mother or son. "Just the same?" CeCe asked. "Just the same as who?"
Joss cleared her throat. John took that as a cue to rub her knee to show he was on her squad. "Taylor. They came up side-by-side." CeCe laughed to herself. "If you have something to say, Carolyn, say it."
By this point, John had kicked his shoes off under the table and rubbed his feet together. He enjoyed when his wife used government names and let people have it, especially people who had it coming. "We're supposed to be family, Josie."
"We are."
"Then how could you say no?"
If Taylor was confused, he was about to get clarity soon. Joss exhaled and felt a reassuring hand squeeze her knee again. "Because it's not my responsibility; I'm not his father." In that moment, Joss realised was talking to herself about herself and Paul, and it didn't feel as heavy as it used to. As in, the lump that used to form in her throat when John would challenge her on it was gone. That particular ailment was cured and she had her man to thank for that. "Taylor's on partial and he would ne-" Her voice trailed off because she didn't want to say it.
"Go on." CeCe dared.
"Okay." Joss realised she had the full table's audience and if she remembered correctly, Rev. Hennings' message advised them to speak the truth in love. "Taylor would never jeopardise his scholarship, there I said it. If you want to fight someone, CeCe, it cannot be me." Joss added her own spice to the table, like a pinch of an old mix you add to Low Country Boil. It wasn't missed either, because it sounded like more like a threat of an ass-kicking down the I95 than a warning.
"Who wants more gravy?" Gregory asked, to diffuse the tension.
"Everyone. And biscuits. From scratch. Reggie, help Taylor." Evelyn sent the boys to the kitchen for an indefinite period of time. "What was that about?"
Joss let her in, as much as her mother hated to be on the back foot. "CeCe asked for money. For Reggie's school."
"And you said no." Cammie confirmed.
"Yes ma'am, I said no."
Cammie and CeCe gave each other a knowing look. "I told you so." CeCe murmured, letting her inner 12-year-old out to play.
"Mmm-hmm." Cammie agreed.
"Didn't Reggie lose that scholarship for mouthing off to the coach, getting drunk countless times, forgetting the plays, and acting a fool at the scrimmage? Before he got benched." Evelyn inquired, repeating Tullie's words verbatim. No-one dared to answer her question, which was confirmation it was all true.
"It's not a bad thing for Reggie to learn responsibility." Gregory stated, ever the diplomat. "My mother used to say; anything hard-earned is well-valued."
"Our mother used to say; family comes first." Cammie fired back.
"Then why don't you reach in your pocket, Cammie? Lead the way." Evelyn was getting fired up because her two-day dinner, fourteen-dish was being as spoiled as Reggie and no-one was complimenting her food. "Oh I forgot, Hamilton left you with lint."
"Ev," Gregory tried in vain to stop her but it's too late.
"If you hadn't taken me to that overpriced jewellers in the first place…"
"This is New York City. The air is overpriced out here. Who doesn't know that?"
John was secretly enjoying this, because he didn't grow up in a family – especially not one like this – and the heat was off him for once.
"Did you know about the money?" Reggie asked as Taylor worked on the ready-made buttermilk biscuit mix he'd had too many times at Paul's to count.
"Not 'til today." Reggie accepted that without protest, so Taylor asked about the other elephant in the room. There were so many. "Have you seen him? On campus."
Reggie wouldn't and couldn't say out loud that he followed his father very closely but the details gave it away. "Yeah. He eats two lunches every day with a sugar-free soda. Drives a CX-5. Gym 5 times a week." He neglected to mention that LaDonna lunched with him once a week with baby Tiger cooing in a carseat, because that got him in his feelings and that was unacceptable. "The Bulldogs beat the Wolves last week. Have you seen her? That girl Zora."
Today's not the day to correct him. "A few times. We don't talk anymore."
"Why not?"
"She's devout now. It's not a good look."
"She wasn't devout in your room." Taylor shook it off because Reggie had a habit of being an asshole to let off steam. "What?"
"Nothing." The biscuit mix was rolled into balls – stress balls.
"Why did Aunty J say no?" Taylor shrugged his shoulders and feigned ignorance because he had enough on his mind and wasn't trying to tell his cousin something he didn't want to hear. "Was it John?"
"Doubt it." The baking tray went in the oven, and Taylor called out another elephant. "Have you seen Aleesha?"
Reggie sighed because he'd seen far too much of her, scrolling online. Aleesha and the Q-dog asshole taking his rightful place on the field, on her socials, and in her heart. "Sometimes. We don't talk either."
Things weren't going much better at the dining table. "…All I'm saying is, you've changed." CeCe protested, glancing at John as the reason. It wasn't the thing to say but she preferred it when her cousin was single and they had more in common.
There went another knee squeeze for support. "When you wake up tomorrow; John will still be white, we'll still be black, and Big Reggie will still be the mistake you keep making. So you're right, I have changed. I changed the day I stopped letting Paul pull the same strings on me."
It would've been victorious. It could've been victorious. But Cammie had more misery to spread around. And what did misery love? Company. The steel-pan doorbell went off unexpectedly. "I didn't know we were expecting anyone." Gregory said as he left the table.
"Coast is clear." Taylor announced, as the animated voices turned all the way down to a low hum through the door. The melted butter coloured the biscuits yellow. Reggie's gravy thickened with every stir because he never followed instructions. On the other side of the kitchen door, at the dining table in the living room, sat two new guests at Cammie's request in what used to be his and Reggie's seats. "Dad? Gina?"
"Don't be rude, Taylor. Fix them something to eat." Cammie goaded.
"It's okay we alread-"
"Nonsense." She glared at Magnolia's grandson as he did as she asked. "It's been far too long, Paul."
"Yeah…it has." Paul replied, thinking seven months was the longest he'd gone without seeing Joss face-to-face in as many years. Her husband thought it wasn't long enough. While she looked tired, probably from work, she seemed more relaxed. "Joss. John."
"Paul. Gina." They uttered in unison and tension.
"Welcome." Cammie practically sang, blissfully aware of what she was doing. "How's it going at the job?"
"Great. We just upgraded the EDRMS system for public libraries in the Borough."
"ED-ummm?" Cammie enquired. Quiet as it's kept, she thought Paul looked like her first husband and the look on her niece's face was priceless.
"Electronic Document Record Management System. But Taylor knows all about that."
"…I'm not taking CS this year." He awkwardly placed the plate of food in front of his father. "Sleurben said I'm taking enough credits."
Paul couldn't argue with his math professor so he kept his mouth shut. Amidst the awkward silence was eating, lots of eating. Taylor and Reggie sat on guitar stools at opposite corners of the table barely looking at each other. The red corner and the blue corner, if you asked John.
Joss broke the silence, but to her mother's disappointment it wasn't to praise her culinary skills. It was to offer an olive branch of sorts to the woman who had the responsibility of being with Paul. "I saw a flyer for your dance showcase at the Queens Theatre. How's it going?"
"Rehearsals are going great. Ticket sales could be better." Gina replied, with a smile Taylor hadn't seen before. A secret smile she gave when she thought no-one was looking.
"Well, every child needs a hobby." Cammie declared, as though she was an authority on child-rearing. "Idle hands are the devil's playthings. Junior has Football and Taylor has…"
"Soccer." Gregory interjected; unaware he had stepped in it, it was smearing his shoe and leaving a stench behind. "Oh, and learning the bass line to King Kunta." He, Taylor, Joss, John and Evelyn laughed, revealing a divide at the table.
"Really?" Paul asked, as the laughter died down.
There was something off about his tone, it had a tinge of Jeremy's passive aggression. "Dad? You know I love Kendrick."
"Why didn't you tell me about your new hobby?" Paul asked, with more bass in his voice than needed. "Shooting guns every week?"
Reggie almost got whiplash from that revelation because he didn't think his cousin had it in him, although it made sense because the ID channel showed him every day that real violence was silent. John kept on rubbing Joss' knee because this was the longest he'd seen her go without jumping in between them and that was progress. Progress could also involve Paul taking a long trip off the balcony if necessary.
"Why, Taylor?" Paul pushed because he was tired, disappointed, and thought since Jeremy left they were getting somewhere.
Taylor thought for a moment and tried to be a thermostat not a thermometer. "Because I like it, and I didn't think it was a problem, and you said those days were behind you."
John's blue eyes sparkled with pride and he couldn't let the moment go without saying something. "Everyone needs an outlet. Mr Greg has music. Joss has the gym."
"What's yours?" Paul asked, poking the bear.
"Hunting." John said, with a smile.
"Don't we know it. If I never eat venison stew again…" Cammie voice faded as the Summerville delegation gave each other knowing looks. Paul was confused and further annoyed by the inside joke he wasn't a part of.
If no-one was going to show their appreciation with words she wanted to hear, Evelyn decided to change the subject and took a page from her husband's diplomatic playbook. "I for one, am proud of Taylor for being responsible and doing it the right way." CeCe and Reggie looked away. "It's in his blood, just like that math gene." Paul was stunned silent upon hearing her say something complimentary about him for once. "If Josiah could see you now…" She snapped herself out of it. "Who wants dessert? It's molten chocolate cake."
Gregory was touched. "My favourite?"
She couldn't resist getting one last dig in. "Made with love, dark chocolate and erythritol; Cammie's watching her sugar." Evelyn's lingering stare at her sister's waistline did the trick. And as she cut the lower-sugar cake into generous slices she smiled with victory. She would never admit she listened to him but she did, sometimes, just a little bit.