Page 17 of A Class of Her Own

Aryn: She might be a people-hater in general. She scares me

Time for a subject change.

Me: My dad says he’s off turkey

Aryn: I thought it was beef

Ruby: Forest likes to switch up his aversions

Me: I’m cooking turkey anyway

Aryn: Good for you. He’ll probably eat it

Lizzie: Turkeys are so cute, I do feel a little bad every year

Ruby: Did you know they’re actually really smart and good at geography

Hailey: They taste good too

I laughed at Hailey’s reply, which had my sisters looking my way. I hurried to sign off with my friends, knowing these conversations could last a while and also knowing that my focus needed to be on this rare family time.

Me: Love you guys. Hope there’s nothing fowl about your day. Bye

Everyone chimed in with one last goodbye, and I put my phone down. Clapping my hands together, I looked to the trio waiting for me, and smiled.

“Game on.”

“Game on,” my sisters replied.

Dad’s house was cold when our party entered through the back door. It had snowed a little more since I’d been by to shovel, but the slim walkway from the driveway up the back steps was still usable. Dad’s truck was parked in the rickety carport; however, the house was dark and quiet, with all the drapes closed.

“Heat off again?” Willow asked as she pushed passed me to set her armload of food on the green kitchen counter. She swiped her bangs off her forehead and put her hands on her hips as she surveyed everything. “It was on when I fed him last week.”

“A lot can change in a week,” I muttered, unloading my own items onto the scarred wooden table and trying to keep my tone light and airy.

I glanced at Ash’s face and then at Jake’s, concerned that this was going to make Ash uncomfortable, having Jake see the place in all its glory. But Ash seemed to be taking it in stride -- head high, smile in place as she walked to the range and put the still-warm stuffing on the cooktop. She threw open the oven door, the screeching of unused hinges deafening in the silence, and motioned for Jake to put the foil-covered bird inside.

“Jake, do you mind grabbing the rest?” Ash asked him as she fiddled with the knobs on the oven, trying to set it to warm.

Jake lightly tugged at her braid and gave her shoulder a squeeze. She looked his way, and I watched as a world of unspoken things passed between them. Not for the first time, I wondered how that would feel, to have someone be able to understand and speak to you without words . . . to be part of a unit that didn’t even require actual sound in order to communicate. I pressed a hand against my stomach to ward off the unwanted emotion and flipped the light switch, grateful for the buzz of fluorescents.

“Power’s on,” I whispered to Willow who mouthed, “That’s something” in response.

“He knows we’re coming, right?” Ash asked through tight lips the moment Jake was out of earshot. Her cheerful facade slipped as she turned and leaned her back against the stove. Her green eyes had become frosty, and I thought maybe Icouldcommunicate without words because I understood exactly what she was thinking. “It’s Thanksgiving today. I drove a boatload of hours to be here. Oh, and the oven doesn’t want to kick on.”

Willow was quick to soothe. “Of course he knows. He’s probably getting cleaned up right now.”

“I don’t hear the groaning of water running upstairs,” Ash stated. Now she crossed her arms across her narrow chest. “I brought Jake here, against my better judgment, because we’ve been together for a while now, and it’s time.”

“Hey, now.” It was my turn to jump in. “He still got to meet me and Willow, right? And we’re worth coming to see.”

Ash’s stance relaxed, and she nodded, reaching up to pull her braid over her shoulder and fidget with the ends. “Yeah. You’re right. It’s just so . . . embarrassing sometimes.”

The three of us nodded, completely understanding the years of emotion behind this moment. Embarrassment gets exhausting. You’d think at some point you’d lose the capacity to be humiliated, but none of us had found that stopping point yet. We jumped back into motion when Jake returned, his arms loaded up, his smile still in place.

“I’ll go find Dad.” I forced a nonchalant tone and left the kitchen.

I snagged my phone, knowing I needed an outlet for my own frustration and that it couldn’t be my sisters. It was never my sisters because of choices I’d made long ago. While none of my friends had grown up in my house, they knew enough to be supportive and had proven many times that I could depend on them for a quick vent.

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