Fallout (35 page)

THE DOOR FLIES OPEN

Before we make the welcome mat.

Some sort of chaos, after all?

But no. It’s just a jacked-up Aunt Cora.

Come in! Everyone’s here.
She snatches

Grandfather’s elbow, tugs.
All right
,

he snarls, tugging it back.
I’m working on it.

Maybe his suave exterior is nothing more

than a barely disguised case of nerves.

I follow, cradling my cranberry surprise

as if it might jump from my arms. Aunt Cora

leads us into the kitchen, where most

of the celebrators have gathered.

She sidles up to Liam, pulls him over

to meet Grandfather, who has yet to

have actually made his acquaintance.

This is my dad, Leroy. Dad, this is Liam.

Grandfather shakes his hand but looks

uncomfortable.
Glad to finally meet you.

This is only the beginning of a long round

of introductions. We meet Liam’s mom and

dad; his brother, Tom; sister, Laurel; two aunts;

three uncles; a cousin or four. And that’s just

the ones in the kitchen. I can hear voices

in some other unidentified room. I don’t think

I made nearly enough cranberry sauce.

Throughout the entire process, Aunt Cora

hangs on to Liam as if letting go might make

some imaginary tower tumble. Finally, all of

us not quite knowing one another’s names,

Aunt Cora’s eyes stop traveling the room

long enough for her to notice.
Oh.

You wore the skirt. It looks amazing.

Suddenly everyone is looking at me.

My palms start to tingle. Before I can lose

my breath, I excuse myself. “I could use”—

blood jackhammers my brain—“some air.”

I START TOWARD THE FRONT DOOR

But someone catches my arm.

Come on out here
, he says.

The backyard is real pretty.

It’s one of Liam’s cousins. Beau?

Michael? Whichever, he is a couple

of years older than me and wears

Irish good looks in long, straight

black walnut hair, white linen skin,

and eyes the color of violets.

I catch my breath, shadow him out

into a miniature botanical garden,

with ponds and statuary and trees

in full autumn dress. It’s stunning.

Very Zen. My heartbeat slows in

appreciation of the almost solitude.

Almost, but for what’s-his-name.

You okay now?
His voice is satin.

You looked right about ready to bolt.

“I’m good, thanks. I, uh … sorry.

Can’t remember your name.

Too many thrown at me at once.”

He grins, showing perfect pearl

teeth.
Micah. This is a big family
,

okay. And we’re not even all here.

Mi
cah
, not Mi
chael
. Good name.

But why is he being so nice?

“Funny. Our family
is
all here.”

Not exactly accurate. But close

enough to the truth, I guess.

Family is about connection.

Nothing wrong with a, uh
,

compact family. Long as

you’re good to each other.

Are we good to each other?

Not bad, I suppose. But all

I can do in response is nod.

Silence closes in, squeezes.

Micah releases its grip.
You
do

look pretty in that skirt, you know.

Cheeks flaming, I stutter

something like, “Thanks,” just

as someone inside calls out,

Dinner!

A GIANT FEAST

Is laid out, buffet-style, on the long kitchen counters.

We form a line, help ourselves, then find places to sit.

The older adults claim the formal dining room, leaving

us younger people to choose our seats at folding

tables in the kitchen. I fill my plate sparingly, pick

a chair, wait to see if Aunt Cora will join me. She doesn’t.

But Micah does, sitting beside me.
Do you mind?

I shake my head, making his recent compliment rattle

around inside my brain:
Pretty in that skirt … pretty …

In the next room, Mr. Cregan recites grace and

before the amen, Micah’s thigh leans gently against

mine. This can’t be happening! But it is, and it’s warm,

and all those newly discovered body parts alert.

The conversation around me blurs to a buzz. I do

my best to tune out and eat my turkey and stuffing

without dripping gravy on my blouse or (pretty!) skirt.

This is just dumb. Not four hours ago, I was fantasizing

about a private Thanksgiving with Bryce. Now here

I am surrounded by Cregans and, for some unfathomable

reason, leg-to-leg with probably the best-looking member

of the clan. This cannot be happening. Maybe I’m asleep

and this is all a dream. Blood whooshes in my ears,

damping a gush of laughter. Somebody told a joke?

Suddenly metal clinks against glass, like a bell.

All attention turns toward the dining room, where

Aunt Cora and Liam are standing.
Excuse us, but

we have some happy news
, says Liam. Aunt Cora

catches my eye, smiles.
We’re getting married.

Summer
DAD’S IDEA

Of a Thanksgiving meal,

Turkey Day treats
, in his

vernacular, is going out

to my all-time favorite place
,

(are you ready for this?)

Carrows. Best burgers, ever.

Burgers for Thanksgiving?

Poultry gives me the trots.

No pumpkin pie, either?

Bet Carrows will have it.

Carrows pumpkin pie?

Think I’ll skip it. Burgers?

Maybe they have turkey

burgers. Jeez, man. Even

foster homes celebrate

Thanksgiving, trying to

make up for real parents

who aren’t real parents.

Hey, I’ve never been much

of a cook. And Kortni?

Let her do a turkey, we’ll all

get the trots. And anyway
,

the important thing is being

together, right? Thankful

we can be like a real family.