My cheeks flush, and not only from all the oven heat warming the townhouse. “Come in. Come in.”
He’s brought his folks. The three of them traditionally eat Thanksgiving dinner on a harbor cruise, and while I appreciated the classiness of such an idea, I couldn’t leave my large, crazy family during such a big holiday. So Mom suggested I invite them to join us instead.
I didn’t think Wyatt would be interested, but the fact that they’re all here makes me wonder if he planned for everyone to gather together for a reason. Perhaps he wants an audience when asking a certain question.
Hope wells up in me like air in a float at the Macy’s parade. He hadn’tbeen happy that I’d moved back in with my parents instead of him, so this is his chance to show how committed he is.
His mom carries a strawberry Jell-O pretzel salad. It looks like more of a dessert than a salad, but today is not a day for counting calories.
I make the introductions, explaining repeatedly that my niece Teresa is actually older than I am. Her significant other and his family are here too. It’s cozy in our small space, though Wyatt’s parents’ smiles are strained, as if they’d refer to the close quarters as “uncomfortable.”
We do have to squish around the rows of card tables covered in plastic tablecloths for dinner. My dad’s holiday shirt, with a cartoon image of a turkey wearing a pilgrim hat, matches the tablecloths. He stands at the head of the table as Mom carries out a platter of the carved poultry.
Dad chimes his fork against his glass to get our attention, and it takes another chime for the side talk to quiet down.
“I’m thankful to have you all here today. Especially my baby girl, who’s spent the last couple of months traveling around the country.”
My niece nudges me with her shoulder on the left. Wyatt’s on my right, with his parents on his other side. They’re closer to my parents so they can all get to know one other.
Should it bother me that my niece is the one connecting with me over this moment? I guess she’s more comfortable in this setting than my boyfriend is, which is understandable. I let it go.
Dad continues. “I’ve personally always hated to fly, but from the stories she’s told, it sounds as if flying has taken her closer to heaven.”
In ways I’d never expected.
Dad grins. “So I’m also thankful for her reminder of our faith, and I’d like to say grace for dinner today.”
Wow. I hadn’t expected that either. But maybe my personal growth has been an invitation for those around me. I smile at Dad and reach out to hold hands.
My first prayer with Wyatt. I peek to catch his reaction, but his head is already bowed and eyes closed. I’m the one being irreverent, so I follow suit.
I offer up a prayer of my own for God’s direction in our relationshipand echo Dad’s “amen.” Before I can even release Wyatt’s hand, there’s another water glass chiming. This time from my left.
I turn to find Teresa’s boyfriend standing. He’s as long and lanky as he is fidgety. My heart jitters with what I assume is shared nervousness for the proposal it appears he’s about to make.
Sure enough, he cracks a grin to rival the size of the San Andreas Fault. “I also want to share what I’m thankful for this year.”
Teresa squeals and covers her mouth. Her squeal continues to ring in my ears like tinnitus. I don’t catch another word he says as my joy for her wars with a twinge of jealousy.
He drops down onto one knee.
“Yes,” she says. They both cry.
And I can’t help but wonder, if that had been me, would I have been as happy?
It’s what I thought I wanted. It’s what I still want. But were I the one getting engaged today, it’d be more of a logical next step than a celebration like I’m witnessing.
I definitely don’t think Wyatt would cry. It would be more like he’s conceding an arm-wrestling match.
Teresa jumps up and down. Races in place. Throws her arms in the air and turns to hug me. “You’re next,” she whispers in my ear.
I avoid Wyatt’s gaze after that. Dinner resumes with more merriment than before.
It’s not until Wyatt’s parents leave that I find myself alone with him on the rooftop, a gas firepit between us and a view of the Golden Gate lit up at twilight. I’d offered to give him a ride home later tonight if he wanted to stay, and I should be thankful he did.
“Well, that was awkward,” he says.
I need to focus on the positive. “Blending families probably always is.” Though it didn’t seem that way for Teresa’s future in-laws.
