Best,
Grant
37
Small But Loud Gap
I left Newman early on the Saturday before Thanksgiving, arriving at the Harley House apartment a little after noon. I’d barely gotten my bags inside when there was a Dad-like rap at the door. “Come in.”
My parents stepped into the great room, both smiling. They’d driven over to the mountains three weeks ago to see me, but it felt longer. Dad opened his arms, and I flew into them.
“You look lovely, princess,” he said, his hand patting my back. “We’re so glad you’re here.”
I stepped away and hugged Mom. It was a relief to see how relaxed they looked. “Let’s sit.” Once they were on the sofa, I hovered near a chair. “Need a drink?”
“Nothing for me,” Dad said. Mom shook her head.
“Okay, so...” I sat. “What are the plans?”
“We’ll keep it quiet,” Mom said, folding her hands together tightly in her lap.
Dad cut her a glance before giving me a hearty grin. “We’re having Thanksgiving at the beach cottage this year. And we’ll drive back Thursday night so that we can open the shop early for Black Friday.”
My gut clenched. This was the first I’d heard of it. We’d never eaten at the beach on Thanksgiving Day. It had always been here in town, then we’d drive to Nags Head sometime on Friday and spend the rest of the weekend there. Maybe that was the point. They were trying to do something different, but it was adifferentI didn’t like. “Not me.” I shook my head firmly.
“What?” Dad frowned, clearly not expecting opposition.
“I’m staying in Magnolia Grove.”
“Why?” Mom blinked rapidly. “It’s the first Thanksgiving since...”
“I get that. Really. Which is why I want to be some place where I can be surrounded with people who care about me, who won’t allow me to be too sad. The beach house is lonely.”
“Sean loved it.”
Okay, that was weird and not true. “No, Seanlikedit. He didn’t love it. A house at Nags Head is your dream and Dad’s. It wasn’t ours. It was a fun place to go occasionally, and that was all.” I leaned forward, hoping they could see how important this was to me. How important it ought to be for them. “I won’t be able to escape thoughts of Sean on Thursday. Wherever I am, memories will follow. So I might as well be with as many people as I need to help me get through it. That will be here.”
“What will you do?” Dad asked.
“Go to Scott’s house.”
Mom gasped. “You made plans without us?”
“No, Mom. I made plans around you. I told Scott I’d be over after I’d finished dinner with my parents.”
“You should’ve checked with us first.”
“Why? This is a completely unheard-of deviation from the norm. The only alternative I could think of would be to go to the grandparents’ and they’re still in California.”
She huffed out a wobbly sigh and looked down at her hands.
Dad spoke, his voice gruff. “What’s happening at Scott’s?”
“Mr. Fuentes and Scott are putting picnic tables in their barn, and they’re holding a potluck Thanksgiving. Lacey and Eli will be there. Mr. Fuentes included his landscaping staff and their families. Last time I checked, there were forty people coming. You’re invited too.”
My father swallowed. “What about football?”
Was there a glimmer of interest in that question? “Mr. Fuentes will have a huge TV set up in one corner of the barn.”
