Thanksgiving
Somehow, I manage to convince Carrick to go back to Tulsa with me. I know this is a huge deal, because this means officially coming out to my parents. Kate is the only person I’ve ever brought home for the holidays. Bringing Carrick with me this time is making a bold statement, and I’m just so tired of hiding that I don’t care how bold it is. I don’t necessarily want everyone to know, but it’s too much work to keep them in the dark or keep pretending like they don’t already know.
And so, here we are. In a taxi, riding to my parents’ new place that I will probably always call their “new place” even after they’ve lived in it for far longer than one year. In just a few short minutes, Carrick will be experiencing his first full Hanson family holiday, and the Hanson family will be experiencing their first holiday with a gay son.
It’s clearly going to be a big year for the family scrapbook.
The taxi rolls to a stop in the cul de sac, and I pay our fare while Carrick unloads our luggage. It’s the easiest way to divide up the labor so that Carrick is too distracted to feel too bad about me paying for everything. He’s not poor, but unlike me, he doesn’t have enough in the bank and invested to know that if he never worked again, he would be fine. I feel conceited even thinking that, but it’s true. Still, I don’t feel any richer than him. I have things I splurge and spend a lot of money on, but so do most people, regardless of whether they really have the money to spare. The only difference is that I know I have more of a safety net to fall back on. Sometimes I think it makes Carrick feel like the relationship is a bit unbalanced, especially since I’m younger than him, but so far it hasn’t been a big deal… except for those times when I not-so-jokingly suggest he move in with me.
But that doesn’t matter right now. What matters right now is walking up my parents’ crowded driveway and through their door without panicking. This is big. This is really big, and the closer we get to the door, the less prepared for it I feel. But then Carrick rings the doorbell and it doesn’t matter if I’m prepared or not.
There’s a lot of shuffling and muffled shouting on the other side of the door, and then it’s flung open by my mom. She only pauses for a second, if that, before scooping me up into a hug, and gushing about how good and healthy I look. A part of me feels hurt, like she’s surprised that I could survive on my own, but I know I would get the same treatment if I still lived in Tulsa and had come over for a random family dinner.
Once she’s done with me, she turns to Carrick. She pauses for a second again, then another second, and then to my surprise, she wraps her arms around him. It surprises Carrick, too, judging by the soft ‘’oof” sound he lets out as my mother gives him one of the best, most loving and motherly hugs ever. I may be biased, but a Diana Hanson hug is the best hug there is, and the smile on Carrick’s face says that he’s aware of that fact now.
“Come on in,” she says, stepping back to let us in. “You can put your suitcases in the guestroom down here, by the stairs. Everyone else is already upstairs.”
We dump our suitcases in the room across from what I know is Zoe’s new bedroom. Even if I hadn’t known, the explosion of pink glitter and zebra print visible through the open door would have given it away. Our room is far more sedate, its large bed covered with a fluffy white duvet. I raise an eyebrow at Carrick to let him know that I too am surprised Mom would suggest we share a room. Maybe she’s more comfortable with our relationship than I thought.
I don’t comment to Mom about that, though. I just give her a smile once the suitcases are safely deposited beside the bed, and let her continue rattling off what all is on the menu as she guides us up the stairs. Even from the landing, there’s plenty of chatter. I guess we really were the last to arrive.
Except… not everyone is here.
Kate isn’t, of course. I knew she wouldn’t be here. Because of Shepherd and Junia, she will always be a part of the family, but she won’t be coming to every family event now. She and I had already talked about the holidays, and we agreed that she would bring the kids to California for an early Christmas after taking them to Georgia to spend Thanksgiving with her family. It seemed like a good plan.
She and the kids aren’t the only ones missing, though. Taylor is here. All of his kids are here. But no matter how many times I look around, I don’t see Natalie. I suppose she could be in the bathroom, but the look on Taylor’s face when I accidentally meet his eyes tells me there’s more to this story than such a simple explanation as that.
Natalie’s not here, and I don’t know why.
Because there are so many of us, we don’t do a real sit down dinner. The dining room table is just piled with finger foods that we can all choose from and find a spot to eat somewhere in the house. Even though I want to know what’s going on with Taylor and Natalie, I don’t dare ask Taylor, and I don’t really want to be around the whole crowd.
Carrick is quickly pulled away from me and into a conversation about music with Isaac, who has his best fake smile on, and so I’m left entirely alone to go forage for something to eat.
After fighting the crowd around the table, I end up with some spinach dip and homemade Chex mix. It isn’t much, but I don’t feel so hungry now. The kitchen seems to be the least busy room in the house, so I make my way there and dig one of Dad’s beers out of the refrigerator.
“Drinking on Thanksgiving? Really, honey?” Mom asks, suddenly having appeared in the other doorway near the fridge. It makes me jump a little, and I wince at her words, but I can see she is trying to be funny, not judgmental.
I just shrug and force myself to smirk. “You want one too, Mom?”
“No, maybe not just yet,” she says, eyeing me for a moment. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” I reply. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
She sighs. “You’ve… we’ve all… been through a lot lately. I just want to make sure my babies are happy.”
That seems like a good opportunity to ask the question that’s been plaguing me. “Mom, why isn’t Nat here?”
“Oh, sweetie, she… she and Taylor… well, he filed for divorce a few weeks ago. She’s staying with Pam.”
It’s like a punch to the gut. I know this doesn’t affect me directly, but why didn’t anyone tell me? Why couldn’t I know? The only person who might want to hide this from me is Carrick, for fear that I would leave him for Taylor, but surely Carrick didn’t know. I’m sure Kate did, and she didn’t tell me, either. I want to be angry, but I’m just too damn tired.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Mom asks again. “I thought… well, Kate said you were doing well out in California. And I’m so glad you and her are still talking.”
“We’re not getting back together,” I reply softly, even though I’m not even sure Mom was implying that.
She touches my arm softly. “I know that. I didn’t mean to suggest that.”
“Wouldn’t you prefer it if we did? If I was with her instead of… instead of with Carrick?” The last few words are said at almost a whisper. It’s the first time I’ve admitted to either of my parents that Carrick and I are dating, even though I know they must already know.
“Zac, honey, I just want you to be happy,” Mom replies, holding onto both of my arms to force me to look at her. “Is this what I would have chosen or what I expected? No, I suppose not. But all any mother wants is for her children to be happy. When Taylor and Natalie got married… well, I’ll be honest, none of us were pleased, at least not with the circumstances, and we’ve been holding our breath for this moment ever since. You and Kate, I wanted to believe had a better chance at happiness, even if you didn’t wait until you were much older. And I think if we had looked closely, we would have seen that you two weren’t ready to be together like that. You weren’t ready to be husband and wife, and maybe you weren’t right for each other at all, although I am happy that you’ve built a friendship now.”
“But what about Carrick?” I ask.
“If he makes you happy, then I can’t complain. I know you’re expecting some argument that it’s a sin, but Zachary, happiness and love are not sins. You can learn a lot from the church, but there are some things they can’t explain… some things you have to learn for yourself. Like I said, this isn’t what I would have chosen for you, just like teenage fatherhood isn’t what I would have chosen for Taylor. It’s not going to be an easy path, but it’s yours to walk down if it’s what you really want.”
“It is,” I whisper, nodding.
“Then that’s good enough for me,” she replies, her own voice barely above a whisper. She blinks a few times, probably to hide her tears, then smiles. “Now, why don’t you come back out and join the party?”
“Yeah,” I reply. “I’ll be right out.”
Mom gives my arms a squeeze, then walks out. I hate how shocked I feel that she’s so okay with my relationship with Carrick. Her reasoning makes sense, though. Of course she wants me to be happy. I shouldn’t have doubted her.
I do rejoin the party after a few minutes more hiding in the kitchen, although I stay on the fringes of it for the rest of the night. Carrick stays by my side as much as he can, but it seems my family have all chosen to accept him with varying degrees of open arms, and so he’s always being drawn into a conversation by one person or another.
When the party finally winds down and everyone else has left, Carrick goes straight to bed. I’m too wired to sleep yet, though. I guess I’ve adjusted to California time or maybe it’s just jet lag. Whatever the problem is, I find myself out on the screened in porch, looking out at my parents’ large backyard.
It’s still warm enough on the porch even though November in Oklahoma is deceptively cold, despite the lack of snow on the ground. It’s warm enough, in fact, that after a while on the porch, sipping my third or fourth beer of the night, I start drifting off. I’m barely asleep, sort of suspended between asleep and awake, so when something starts scratching—no, knocking—at the door, it rouses me in a matter of seconds.
I pull myself out of the chair I’ve apparently fallen asleep in and rush to the screen door. It takes me a second to realize that the person under the hat and scarf, knocking on the door, is Taylor. When I do, I pause for just a second. Should I let him in? Why is he here, at the back door? Realizing I won’t get an answer to that unless I let him in, I unlatch the door and step back.
“Thanks,” he says, stepping inside and not even glancing my way.
“What are you doing?” I ask, sitting down a safe distance away from him on the couch he’s just sprawled himself across.
“Couldn’t sleep,” Taylor replies. “I wasn’t really up to driving all the way home, so I crashed over at the old house, and got in about twenty minutes before I was wide awake again. So, I went for a walk, and here I am.”
All his words make sense, but I still have so many questions for him, questions that have nothing to do with what he’s doing at this precise moment. “Mom, uh, she told me about… what happened with you and Nat.”
“Yeah? Did she tell you Nat isn’t going to sign the papers?”
“So you’re not getting divorced?”
“Like hell,” Taylor replies, chuckling harshly. “I kicked her out, changed the locks and everything, but she won’t sign the papers. So she’s still going to be my wife, for whatever that means when she’s not living with me anymore.”
I fail to see how that’s really different from the situation they’ve been in for months now. But in a way, I suppose it is. Before, it was always just a matter of time before she came back. Now they’ve made it clear that they aren’t going to ever be a happy couple again, yet they are still legally married.
“Oh, I see,” I reply, even though I’m not sure that I really do.
“I guess it’s what we both deserve, huh?” Taylor asks, giving me a look that shakes me to my core. “I wanted her out of my hair, and I got it. She wanted to keep my name and my money, and she got that, too.”
“Yeah, but…” I begin, but I don’t have a way to finish that sentence. There’s nothing at all that I can say to him right now.
Taylor rubs his leg against mine, and at first, I’m not sure if it’s deliberate or not. I can smell alcohol on him—beer and whiskey—so I know he isn’t all here. That’s probably why he didn’t drive home. Why he came back here, though, I’m a little fuzzier on. The more he rubs against me, inching closer until the right side of his body is flush against my left, the more an answer to that little question starts to form in my mind.
“Zac,” he says softly. “Why do you get what you want, but I don’t?”
“Probably because I know what I want,” I reply, a little more harshly than I mean, and definitely harsher than I knew I had it in me to be when Taylor’s body is this close to mine.
“Probably,” he agrees.
Then he kisses me.
I knew it was coming, I really did, but it still takes my breath away. I don’t want this. No, that’s not true. I don’t want to want this. But I do. From the second his lips touch mine, that much is obvious. Even though my mind is screaming Carrick’s name, I can’t tear myself away from Taylor. I can’t resist him. I can’t push him away when he forces his tongue into my mouth. And I can’t hide that I’m getting hard.
What I can do, though, is hear footsteps.