Page 90 of Rebound
I haven’t been to a Thanksgiving dinner since I was nine years old, and we drove to Providence where my grandparents moved after they retired. I remember the car was filled with silence because my parents had a huge fight right before we got in the car. It was the same old thing.
My mother wondered if she should bring something, and my father made some off-hand and rude comment about how she can’t really cook. He followed it up by suggesting my mother shouldn’t eat a lot because once she gained more weight, it’d be hard to lose it.
Looking back, I knew she’d gained weight. I couldn’t have cared either way. She was still my mother, and the weight gain didn’t make her a different person. Sometimes I wonder what my parents were like before they met each other and got married. Surely, these two were better off without each other.
That was the last time I went to Thanksgiving dinner. The following year, I faked a stomachache, the year after that, I told them I’d been invited to a friend's house. Holidays lead to fights. Despite playing a team sport, I’m a firm believer that people with different personalities shouldn’t be forced to get along.
I’m debating turning around and faking an illness now when the door of Lavinia’s parents house opens. Lavinia steps out onto the porch, hugging her arms around her body.
“Planning on coming in?”
I roll up my window, and turn off the car, pausing to pick up the bags from the passenger seat before opening the door. “I was debating faking an illness.”
“That might work on another family, but not the Callahan/Kelly/Graham clan.”
I slowly walk towards the porch. “This is the first time I’m learning your mom’s last name.”
“And yet you married me.”
“Easily the best mistake of my life, Blossom.”
I climb up the steps until I’m standing in front of her. There’s a soft, curious smile on her face and the tip of her nose and cheeks are turning red, probably from the cold. She’s wearing a long brown dress that clings to her body with a cream cardigan on top and her hair’s been twisted into a loose braid.
We haven’t had the chance to see each other since she was in my apartment two and a half weeks ago. I’m busy with practice and games, taking the cats to the vet, playing with Tyler.
Lavinia’s been busy filming content, recording Unscripted, and travelling to New York to watch a home game for her old team. We’ve only texted and talked a handful of times and I’ve deliberately kept our conversations short and to the point.
She tilts her head back to look at me and I lean in, watching as her mouth parts and her eyes dilate. I press my lips to her cheeks in a quick, barely there kiss, and lean back.
“You say that now, but you haven’t had dinner with my family yet,” she says, with a soft laugh. Her eyes drop to my arms and widen slightly. “What’s all this?”
“Bribes, and flowers,” I reply. “A limited-edition scotch for your father, books on string theory for your mother andgrandmother, a really nice silk scarf from this French designer for Aunt Constance, a newly released biography on Ethel Darke for your other grandmother.”
Lavinia blinks down at my arms and I shift uncomfortably. This shouldn’t come as a shock, but I’ve never been invited to a dinner party before. Nothing about me gives off dinner party guest vibes. I don’t even like being around people. I fear I might have gone a little overboard.
“Nothing for Drew? He’ll be so disappointed.” Her mouth twitches in a barely perceptible way.
“For Drew, I’ve brought my eternal patience.”
Lavinia raises an eyebrow. “It’s going to be a very long night, then.”
Turning, she pushes open the front door and ushers me into the house. It hasn’t changed since the last time I was here. It still has the same cream-colored walls with the same eclectic style of furniture, though that has changed now. The foyer table is new, the mirror in the hallway has changed, as has the bench. So much of it is familiar yet new.
“I’d ask for your jacket, but your arms are full. Do you want to put it down here?” I set the bags down and remove my jacket, watching Lavinia hang it up in the coat closet. Turning back to me, she offers me her hand.
“You’re not scared, are you?”
“Of course not,” I scoff.
She looks at me doubtfully and squeezes my hand. “Don’t push it, okay? I want this to go well for everyone. If you want to leave, we’ll leave. I won’t let them gang up on you.”
I nod, running my other hand through my hair. I’m not worried about them ganging up on me. I’m more worried about what I might say or do to alienate them or upset Lavinia.
“Just leave the bags here, we can grab them later. We’re having cocktails in the living room.” She leads me down theshort entry hallway and turns left into the living room where her family is gathered.
Conversation stops as soon as we enter the living room, all eyes turning to us. I try not to shift as they all examine us like bugs under a microscope.
Aunt Constance is the one who breaks the silence. “Roman! So glad you made it safely. The roads were getting bad, and we were worried. I don’t know how people drive at night in bad weather, it’s so scary. Come, sit down. I saved you and Vinny a seat right here.” She pats the empty space next to her.
