There's no place like home for the holidays…
I know that I'm a little late, maybe a dollar short. But, here is a Thanksgiving story with no real plot. Those are fun😊
"Why don't you go home more on holidays?"
Vic looked up from her plate with a half shrug that affected only her right shoulder.
"I don't know. You want me to go home?"
That wasn't what he meant and she knew it. Walt shook his head in response.
"Just curious."
Vic poked her fork through the last piece of turkey on her plate. It was composed of leftovers from the small meal they shared with Cady the day before. Thanksgiving. Walt was never much for celebrating holidays.
He did, of course.
As a father, he did his time sneaking in gifts for Cady after she went to bed. He spent his fair share of late hours on Christmas Eve putting together bikes and an assortment of other toys marked "some assembly required."
But, it was Martha who made the holidays special for them. She would cook and lay out a Thanksgiving meal that looked as good as it tasted, like something you might see on television. She would play Christmas music and put up a handful of decorations.
After her death, he never felt much like celebrating anything. He worked most of them. It was a conscious choice if he were being completely honest. An attempt to keep his mind diverted away from the ghosts of holidays past.
But, this year was different.
Everything about this year felt different.
As the late summer started to push into fall, change was in the air. The seasons of course were shifting. The summer sun was giving way to shorter, cooler days. Cold nights. The greenery that surrounded them morphed into yellows, oranges, and reds.
Walt could always appreciate nature. The seasons of the year weren't all that different from the seasons of a life. Cyclical and repetitive no matter how hard one fought the tide. Time marched on.
This year, the change came with a new feeling welling up inside of him. One he hadn't felt in far too long. It was a feeling he almost didn't recognize, because so much time passed him by without it.
Hope.
He suspected Vic might give him an indulgent smile and inform him that he was being cheesy. Corny even. Maybe, he was. Or, maybe he was just learning to appreciate what was in his life at the present moment. He knew that it could be snatched away without warning. Then, all you had left were memories.
But, he also knew that Vic was good at selling herself short in some ways. Sure, she was confident in the way she did her job. And, there was a natural brashness to her that he learned to handle over time. But, underneath the surface, he knew she wasn't always as confident as she seemed. She certainly didn't seem to value herself as much as he valued her.
The same could be said for him, though.
As different as they seemed to be, they shared some startling similarities.
He heard the recognizable clink of Vic laying her fork down on her plate. She was finished eating and watching him.
"You're quiet."
Walt smiled and pushed his own plate out of his way.
"Just thinking."
"About?"
He smiled. She excelled at pushing him.
"Holidays. Change."
Vic narrowed her eyes.
"Is that all?"
He could hear the sarcasm. That was never all. Walt lifted the cup of coffee that sat in front of him on the table and took a sip of it. With colder nights settling in on them, an evening cup of coffee always seemed like the answer to a problem.
Better than beer, he mused.
Vic tapped on hand restlessly on the wooden table.
"Work is the main reason."
His head perked up.
"For what?"
Vic sighed at his lack of attention.
"That I don't go home. We're always short staffed here. If I pay to fly to Philly, it makes more sense to stay and get my money's worth. But…work."
It spoke for itself.
"And…?"
She gave him a look.
"And…family. You know."
In some ways, he did. In other, he didn't. He was never in a family like Vic's. Big and extensive. She was one of five children. He was an only child. There was a clear difference found in those facts alone. Not to mention the manner in which they were each raised. Vic in Philadelphia. He in Wyoming.
The tapping of her hand ceased. Vic took a breath.
"It's like this…every time I go home, there are a million damn questions about what I'm doing with my life. Why I'm still out here? Will I ever get a decent paying job with advancement? Am I ever moving back? Questions about the divorce. More about…if I'm dating. It's…never ending."
She rolled her eyes when she said the last part.
"It's like they've never considered the fact that I might be happy here. That I might actually be satisfied with my life."
"Are you?"
Vic huffed out a barely there laugh.
"No, I'm still here for my health. Or…maybe it's the happening night life. Yes, I'm happy here, Walt. What kind of question is that?"
Walt took the admonishment in stride. It was a question she didn't expect an answer to.
"So…if they interrogated you less, you would go home more?"
"Maybe."
She smiled when she said it. Walt studied her.
"You still miss it."
"I do."
"Is it hard to leave when you do visit?"
Vic shook her head.
"No, it was hard leaving the first time. Not knowing what I was going to. Leaving the only place I've ever lived. My family. Friends. Everything. Fucking scary, you know."
He didn't, but he nodded to let her know that he was listening.
"Now…"
Her voice trailed off. Walt wanted to know what she was about to say. He leaned in.
"Now?"
She bit her lip and raised her eyes to meet his.
"Before, going back…felt like going home. Now…coming back…feels like going home."
He was one hundred percent certain he never heard Vic call Durant or Wyoming home before. It was a major shift from the woman who once told him that she hated Wyoming. A smile tugged at him. He was helpless to fight it.
"There's something to be thankful for."
Vic held his eyes for a moment.
"Yeah."
Walt cleared his throat.
"So…what are you thankful for?"
Vic tossed him a skeptical look.
"Really?"
He dipped his face a little.
"C'mon, play along. I know it's…a cliché. But…what are you thankful for?"
For a minute or two, she was quiet. Walt couldn't quite tell if she was thinking or just working up to an answer. Vic was like that these days. She changed, was changing. He suspected they both were.
"I'm thankful that I didn't…die."
That was certainly one of his own. He was immensely thankful she didn't die by either Chance Gilbert's gun, or her own. Both thoughts were equally unthinkable.
"It's hard this year, you know."
Walt nodded slowly.
"Yeah, I know."
She sighed and grew pensive.
"I'm thankful for…for this."
He knew what this was. There was no need to seek clarification. She was quiet for another moment before she seemed to snap back a little.
"So, what are you thankful for?"
Walt answered without hesitation.
"You."
Her eyes widened a bit, and he wondered why. Surely, she didn't still question his feelings. Not after all they shared. Everything they shared since that first night here at his cabin. He saw the motion of her throat when she swallowed.
"Thank you for telling me that."
He didn't say anything, but his lips quirked up a bit. Vic stood up and carried her plate to the sink, setting it in the basin. Walt followed with his own plate and set it on top of hers. He placed his hands on her shoulders and pulled her backwards into his chest. Pressing his face into her hair, he inhaled and had an intense moment of gratitude.
He wasn't sure how long they stayed that way. But, Walt finally released her. She stayed in the immediate circle of his presence and looked up into his face.
"Let's leave the dishes and I'll show you how thankful I really am."
Walt felt his face heat up as Vic's warm hand slid into his and tugged.