Claire
“Iknow most of you are going home for Thanksgiving, but when we get back, there’ll only be two weeks until finals. So, I suggest you review the materials while away, noting where you have questions or confusion. We will do two separate review sessions the week back. My final will not be easy. It will be a combination of multiple choice and essay questions, and I never grade the final on a curve,” I told my students the Monday before Thanksgiving. There were already a few empty seats from students heading home early, and by the frantic rustling and bustling at the end of class, the remainder couldn’t wait to get the hell out of Dodge.
I was shoving all my papers back in my tote and wondering what type of pie I should bake to take to Mary’s when I heard, “Professor Richards.”
I may have let out a little groan.
“Yes, Abbie?”
“Since I live close-by, I was thinking I could come in and work on some data for your project over the break. The dad project.”
“Yes, I knew what project you meant. Don’t you want to enjoy some time with your dad over the holiday? Do you have plans?”
She stood before me, a big bulky sweater dwarfing her small frame, chocolate-legging-covered legs, big blue eyes, her blonde hair twisted in some fancy braid, and I smiled. She wasn’t so bad—annoying, yes—but her heart was in somewhat of the right place.
“We’ve never really celebrated Thanksgiving…much. This year, my dad’s going to see his brother in Milwaukee, and I told him I’d rather be with Allison and her dad. Turns out, her dad picked up an extra shift at the hospital, and she’s going to go home with her new boyfriend.”
“That’s too bad. Well, I don’t want you to work too hard over the break. Plus, the building is closed on Thursday. Maybe Friday, I could meet you here and we could tabulate some data?”
“Oh, great! I’ll be here. Don’t you think it’s fascinating? How resilient all the responses are from those raised by single dads?”
“I haven’t been able to draw any real conclusions yet, but I’m looking forward to it.”
Abbie spending Thanksgiving alone tugged at my heart, even though it shouldn’t have. My mind raced with how much loss she’s already suffered…she didn’t deserve to be alone. Yet, here she was, resilient like she’d commented, and proud.
“What are you doing for Thanksgiving? Spending it with your new guy?” Now she stood, eyes sparkling, hand cocked on her hip, and all my empathy went out the door. What a little shit. “You know, the hottie I met in your office?”
“Abbie, I’m your teacher, not your friend.”
“I didn’t mean anything bad. I was being nice. He seems so cool. Allison’s dad even knew his mom.”
“So I heard.”
“Allison’s dad is fun and smart. He’s a doctor and connected with Allie, sort of. Mine, not so much. He’s always been a bit detached since my mom left…”
Abbie, Abbie, Abbie. This was what she did. She lured me in with her sob stories.
“I don’t mean to unload. It’s just Allison’s dad is cooler than mine, and isn’t it crazy how he knew your guy’s mom? Long time ago, of course.”
“It’s all a bit crazy. But the universe acts in funny ways, I guess.”
“So, are you doing Thanksgiving with him?”
The sob story was obviously over.
“Yes, if you must know. At Dr. McCullough’s house.”
“Oh, fun!” She clapped her hands together. “You can tell me all about it on Friday, but I’ll see you before then for class on Wednesday.” She turned and started walking out.
She stood tall in her five-foot-something frame, her messenger bag full and banging into her back with every step. “Abbie,” I called.
“Yeah?”
“Why don’t you come? I’m sure Dr. McCullough would be thrilled to have someone entertain her kiddos, and you shouldn’t be alone.”
“Really?”
“Yes, I’ll let Mary know and I’ll give you her address after class on Wednesday.”
