Thanksgiving
It’s amazing how small a four-thousand-square-foot house can feel when you cram a few dozen people inside it.
Originally, when Joie brought up the idea of hosting Thanksgiving dinner, she wanted to do it at her house. But then she realized a dinner provided by the boosters meant more than just football players. If I’m counting correctly, this year, it means seven football players, eight basketball players, a couple wrestlers, four or five baseball players, three softball players, three swimmers, and a cheerleader. There may be a couple golfers downstairs on the Xbox. No way that many people would fit inside Joie’s tiny bungalow.
Instead, we convinced Hank to provide the location. At first, he wasn’t thrilled about adding almost three dozen people to his holiday, especially when he already had a full house. But he agreed it was better than having the kids drive all the way to Joie’s house. He was even more convinced when I reminded him it would add an additional buffer between him and his in-laws. Yeah, he picked up the phone and discussed it with Renee immediately once I reminded him of that.
Joie still did all the cooking. Said there was no reason to spend extra money on catering when she could learn everything she needed to know on the Internet. I was skeptical, but boy did she pull it off. Three days ago, her entire kitchen table was covered in color-coordinated binders with highlighted recipes that had been laminated “for easy cleaning” is what she told me. It looked overwhelming to me, but considering the meal we had today, it worked for her.
Renee seemed happy to get in on the hosting duties, as well. With as long as she’s played hostess to just about all the football events at Flinton, I figured she’d be pissed about having another party at her house. But she and Joie have been flitting around the kitchen all day, talking and laughing and shooing anyone out who tries to help. Except for Renee’s mom. She was recruited for cooking duty when Joie found out she makes an award winning green bean casserole. I wouldn’t know if the awards were warranted or not. The athletes ate it all before I got any.
Assholes.
Now that dinner is over and dessert has yet to be served, I’m sitting on the couch in a tryptophan coma. Or it could be exhaustion from staying up all night eating the dessert between Joie’s legs. Thank fuck, Stevens decided to crash at a friend’s overnight since the dorm kicked out everyone who didn’t have special permission to be there for the holidays. With our away game, this is a gonna be a long weekend coming up. I was gonna be with my woman whether he liked it or not.
“Go. Go. GO. GO!” someone chants next to me, deeply engrossed in the game on the TV we’re all crowded around. Actually, considering it’s a giant projector screen that drops down from the ceiling, we’re pretty spread out.
My eyes are glued to the screen. I’m not really that interested in the outcome, but since football is my life, I tend to watch it no matter who is playing. Today, it’s the Giants versus the Cowboys, so the loyalties in this room are deeply divided. It’s Cowboys’ fans against Anyone-but-the-Cowboys’ fans. Right now, the Anyone-but-the-Cowboys are in the lead.
As we watch the wide receiver sprint for the end zone, several of the guys stand up, still yelling. The white jersey with a big blue star dodges left, then back right, avoiding several tackles. The kid is quick, but I knew that already. At about twenty-six years old, we played against him several times when he started for A&M. It’s not a big surprise he’s done as well as he has since he went pro.
I would never tell Joie, because I wouldn’t want to get her hopes up, but Stevens has a real shot of being a star in the NFL. I’m hoping a couple of years from now, he’ll be a first-round draft pick. He’s gotten that good. Hank knows it. I know it. I think Stevens might suspect it. But until it happens, we’ll keep our noses to the ground.
“WHOO!”
Speaking of the devil, Stevens jumps off his seat on the couch, throwing his hands in the air when the running back crosses into the end zone, scoring for the Cowboys.
“That’s what I’m talking about!” he yells, gloating in Anderson’s face, who is clearly on the Anyone-but-the-Cowboys’ side of this match up. Anderson shoves him playfully, and they begin wrestling, legs and arms flailing as they roll around.
“Hey!” I bellow. “Knock it off, ladies! You’re guests in someone’s home, so act like it.”
They immediately pull themselves apart, big goofy smiles on their faces as they run fingers through their disheveled hair and straighten their clothes.
Renee takes this exact moment to hand me a huge piece of pumpkin pie with a heap of Cool Whip on top. “Leave them be, Jack. I raised three boys in this house. There’s nothing in this room that hasn’t been broken before and nothing that can’t be fixed.”
“That’s nice of you, but they know better than to act like little heathens. No reason to break your house.” I glare at both boys who conveniently pretend they’re engrossed in the game, which is currently in a time out.
“Don’t worry,” she says with a pat to my shoulder. “If it’s anything major, I’ll get a reimbursement from the boosters.”
“The hell you will,” Hank hollers from the other side of the room. “I’m already working with a tight budget for new gear.” He turns his heated glare back on the two troublemakers. “You two break anything that needs reimbursement, and I’ll have you mucking the porta-potties in the parking lot after the tailgaters leave, you hear me?”
They both grimace and nod their heads with a “Yes, Coach.”
“What are they ‘yes, coaching’?” Joie plops down next to me, phone in hand.
I turn to her and just take in her essence, wishing I could lean over and kiss her. If it was just us at Hank’s house, I’d do it. Hell, I’d even do it in front of Stevens, just to show him I could. But neither of us feels comfortable with much PDA in front of these kids. Yes, they’re young adults, but we’re old enough that they’re still kids to us.
“Nothing. Just boys being boys.” I shift over, making room for her and putting my arm on the couch above her. My arm isn’t exactly around her, but it’s clear I’m staking my claim. Glancing up, I see Stevens watching. I can’t tell if he’s upset or trying to get used to it. Either way, he has lots of time to wrap his brain around it because I’m not going anywhere.
“So what are you doing the first weekend in April?”
I furrow my brows at her. “Uh . . . probably in the middle of recruiting, but nothing’s been scheduled yet. Why?”
She holds her phone up in front of her. “I just got off the phone with my brother Greg. He’s getting married, and I was hoping you’d go to the wedding with me.”
“Uncle Greg’s getting married?” Stevens interrupts.
“Yep.” Joie is beaming. Apparently she likes whoever he’s marrying. “Remember Elena?”
“The lady he lives next door to?”
She nods. “That’s the one. They’re finally making it official.”
Stevens turns back to the game, shaking his head. “I hope she’s not as psycho as his first wife. That bitch be crazy.”
“Isaac!” Joie admonishes while Hank and I snicker. “Anyway, I know it’s still far out, but I thought I’d ask you early, so you can make plans or whatever.”
I lean into her so I can look directly into her eyes. “I’d love to go. I’ll have to get the exact dates on the calendar.”
She smiles at me, clearly relieved that I plan on being around then, just as Stevens yells, “Thanks for the invite, Mom. Looks like you’ve replaced me as your plus one.”
Before either of us can respond, Anderson jumps in. “Aw. Did your girly thong ride up your butt too high? Your mom has a boyfriend now. I’m sure Uncle Greg will let you come as her plus two,” he chides.
“You did not say my mom has a boyfriend,” Stevens jokes back and quickly grabs Anderson in a headlock, making them roll around on the floor again. “Say uncle!” Stevens yells.
“I already did! I said Uncle Greg was going to invite you,” Anderson yells back as he punches Stevens in the ribs. His angle is off, so no one is getting hurt. “I’ll be your plus one if you’re so hard up for a date you need to go with your mommy.”
“Knock it off,” I yell. This time, though, they ignore me. Hank finally steps in, using his head coach voice.
“That’s it! I want three laps around my house. All of you,” he points around the room. “Even you wrestle people. I know you’re used to running in leotards and shit, but make it quick or you’ll miss the first play after the commercials. Go, go, go!” he yells and not surprisingly, everyone obeys. They do it with groans and complaints, but they start running.
I chuckle when I think about what his neighbors must think, seeing a bunch of college students running around the property.
As soon as the door closes, I take advantage of the alone time and lean down for a kiss. Joie immediately wraps her arms around my neck, like she’s just as desperate to make out as I am. After several seconds of tangling my tongue with hers, I pull away. “I’ve been wanting to do that all day.”
“Me, too.” Her eyes are bright, and she’s breathing heavily. “But I think we should stop.”
“Why? They won’t be back for a few minutes.”
She’s still staring at my lips like she’s trying to resist temptation. “Because it’s reminding me of that thing you did with your tongue last night, and those aren’t really appropriate thoughts to be having at this particular time.”
I chuckle and kiss her lightly. “I love your humor, you know that?”
She blinks rapidly a few times. “You . . . you do?”
I nod and smile shyly. She knows where this is going and so do I. “I do. Your humor. Your energy. Your ability to talk to anyone no matter what the situation. The fact that you’re going for your goals and dreams and nothing is going to stop you. Not even an old meathead.”
“You’re not old,” she whispers as she lightly runs her fingers down my cheeks.
“I’m old enough to know what I want,” I respond. “And I want you. I love you, Joie,” I whisper back to her. “So, so much.”
She closes her eyes and swallows hard. When she opens them and looks up at me, tears are glistening. “I love you so much, too.”
Unable to resist anymore, she reaches up and presses her lips to mine. We’re so caught up in the moment, we don’t hear the door fly open until the sounds of catcalls and whistles surround us.
“Ugh! Do you guys really have to do that?” Stevens complains, and Joie buries her face in her hands to hide her embarrassment. “That’s my mother you’re kissing.”
I open my mouth to lob a one-liner his direction, maybe something about being respectful or he can do some more laps, but close it when he winks my direction, a smile on his face.
Looks like he’s finally gotten over his aversion to me dating his mother. It’s a good thing, too. Otherwise, it’ll be a long ass holiday season.
Pride & Joie: The Conclusion
Coming in 2 weeks!!