I lay on the couch, flipping lazily through cooking channels. I wanted to find a new cranberry sauce recipe after mine had gone terribly wrong last year. I hadn’t trusted myself with sauce pans since, and this Thanksgiving would be the perfect time to try something new. On one channel, they showed an old school play, footage probably taken from a personal archive. It was presented as inspiration for the chef’s traditional recipes, and I frowned. “How dare he?” I asked out loud. Earlier today, I’d been confronted by the Principal, who inquired about my daily progress and then told me I wouldn’t be responsible for this year’s Thanksgiving play. I always had been in charge of organizing it!
My cheeks burned, recalling the look in his eyes. He hadn’t said much, explaining with a copout, “We thought it best to start rotating between teachers every year. We can take advantage of more ideas this way. Plus, it gives everyone a chance to get involved.”
Ideas my ass! He was using this to punish me for rumors circulating amongst the teachers. With no confirmation, he couldn’t officially reprimand me, so he chose to play dirty, as always, and run the school like a dictator. I looked over at my wall calendar, where I marked Monday to start preparation for the play. From my experience, two weeks gave more than enough time to produce a good show. They were kindergarteners, full of energy, eager to please. And since Thanksgiving was a time of family gathering, most students had distant relatives coming to see them shine in the play.
I loved involvement in activities like that. Watching the kids' excitement and laughter as they succeeded and learned was the biggest reward I got from my job, and he dared take that away?
I was frustrated at the turn of events, particularly because I couldn’t fault him. I was guilty of fraternizing with a parent of a child in my class. But the kids shouldn’t suffer for that. Then again, were they suffering, or was I being melodramatic?
I huffed and shifted, deciding to try and sleep, hoping I’d feel better after a nap. I closed my eyes and pointed the remote to turn off the TV without looking. But less than a minute of silence pass before my phone rang. Naturally, the damn thing wasn’t even in the same room, and I rose slowly, suddenly quite irritated with the interruption in the sleep I wanted to enjoy. I walked toward the kitchen, where the ring seemed to be coming from and slid my finger over the screen with a smile. “Yes, baby?”
“How did you know it was me, Mari?” came Ginger’s cheerful voice.
“I…had a suspicion,” I said, having expected her father at the other end. “What is it?”
“I was talking to Daddy and wanted to ask you something.”
I smiled at her sweet little voice. “Okay. Ask.”
“What are you doing for Thanksgiving?”
I thought for a moment. “Nothing, really.” I was free as a bird with the recent yanking of my responsibilities to the play preparation and no school to worry about.
“You mean you’re not making turkey, Mari?” Ginger’s question took me by surprise, and it took me a moment to understand.
I heard Dawson laugh in the background and held back my own chuckle. “Of course I’m cooking dinner. I just don’t have plans to go anywhere.”
“Oh, okay. What are you making?”
I laughed. “Turkey, of course.”
“And cranberry sauce?” I heard hope in her voice.
I thought for a second. “Do you happen to have a good recipe, sweetie?”
“I have lots! I saw one with oranges on TV. I made daddy save it. Do you want it?”
I hadn’t expected that. “Yes, definitely. As a matter of fact, I would love to make it.”
“Okay. Daddy wants to talk to you.” With no goodbyes or other preamble, she passed the phone off.
“Thank you, sweetie,” I heard him say. Then to me, “Impressed yet?”
“Thoroughly,” I answered truthfully. “She is definitely a resourceful little genius.”
“I agree. It’s hard to believe she’s only five.”
I nodded to myself. “Like I said: genius.”
He chuckled with pride, and then his tone changed. “So, a little bird told me you don’t have plans for Thanksgiving this year.”
His low tone stirred butterflies in my stomach, and I took a deep breath. Clearing my throat, I managed, “Yes. I mean, no, I don’t. As far as I know.”
“As far as you know?” he teased. “In that case, why don’t we have Thanksgiving dinner together?”
“Of course we’re having dinner together!” I heard Ginger say in the background. “We’re making cranberry sauce together, so we’re definitely eating it together.”
Dawson laughed harder. “Of course, sweetie.” To me, “Did you hear that?”
I couldn't help but smile. “I did. I guess our plans have been made for us.”
I felt excitement at the upcoming holiday, despite my earlier disappointment. Maybe it was a good thing I didn’t have the play. I had all the time in the world to make a perfect dinner for Dawson and Ginger. I heard the beep signaling my call waiting, causing a dreadful feeling to creep up my spine. I felt like I’d forgotten something important. “Let me call you back, baby. I have another call.”
“Okay, I’ll hang up,” he said.
I looked at the screen and cringed as I remembered. My sister. I’d forgotten about my sister. “Yes, Georgie?”
“Hey, sis. How are you?”
I’d always been jealous of her raspy, sultry voice. I cleared my throat, suddenly self-conscious. “I’m fine. What about you?”
“Oh, perfect. Absolutely freakin' perfect. You’ll never believe this!”
I scowled. “Oh?”
“I got a job! Like, a real one, full time and everything. Want to know what it is?”
“Tell me!”
“I’m a flight attendant!” she announced.
“You’re kidding!” I was shocked. Georgie had never been the type to wear uniforms or work in a corporate environment.
“I told you! I knew you’d be surprised.” She laughed. “Guess what else.”
“There’s more?” I suddenly felt ill.
“Yep. I get a complimentary flight on my first month, so I’m flying to you for free!”
“That’s wonderful. When do you get here?”
“I have Thanksgiving weekend off. Well, a day and a half. But still…Isn’t that awesome?”
“It is. I’m glad I get to see you, Georgie.” I was excited – we didn’t see much of each other. I was proud of her for getting back on her feet.
“Of course, sis. How could I miss our Thanksgiving dinner tradition?”
I winced. That’s what I’d failed to tell Dawson. In my excitement, I’d forgotten to explain that my sister always came from whatever exotic place she happened to be in to share dinner like we used to before our parents died. “Oh, dear,” I whispered.
“What is it?” she asked.
“Nothing. I just…”
“You made plans.” The sadness in her voice broke my heart.
“No, no. I mean, yes. But…”
“Mari! We do this every year! What am I going to do now?”
I thought for a second. I couldn’t imagine Thanksgiving without my baby sister. But I really looked forward to being with Dawson and Ginger. To hell with convention, I decided. I was going to have my perfect holiday. “I have an idea. Don’t even think about cancelling. You come, but we might have more people around this year.”
She gasped. “You have a boyfriend, don’t you?” she asked in the sing-song voice of a little girl, mocking me. I deserved it for being scatterbrained, so I let it pass.
“It’s not really like that,” I mumbled.
“Mari has a boyfriend!” she sang, and I could picture her swirling around with a smug grin. “Who is he? Is he hot? Is he good? You know, in bed.”
“Georgie!” How embarrassing was this?
“Oh, grow up!” she said. “I want to know everything.”
“Not now,” I sighed. “You’ll meet him at dinner. But I need to call him and tell him the change in plans now, okay?”
“Fine,” she sighed. “But you owe me all the details.”
“I know.”
“I’m excited!”
We both laughed as we hung up, and I felt like things were looking up. If only Dawson would like the idea of meeting my family. My thumb hovered over the call button, trying to think of a way to break the news about my sister. When I finally gathered the courage to push it, I got voicemail. I realized I’d been hold by breath as I exhaled. “God, I’m being so silly.”
I didn’t have time to think too hard on it. I had to go buy a nice turkey before all the decent birds in a twenty mile radius were gone. I refused to settle for turkey sandwiches and canned cranberry sauce.