November 24th, 2016

Kinsky, California, USA

Thanksgiving

Sadja sat in her car at the airport arrivals terminal. She was going through her Snapchat account when she suddenly heard a knock on the passenger door window. When she saw who it was, she sighed and opened the door.

It was another Persian woman, a few years older than Sadja herself. But she was much taller, and her body was much more toned by strength and muscle. Her hair was long and wavy, and as she turned towards Sadja, the younger girl could see the reflection of herself in the woman’s black sunglasses.

“Hello, sis,” the woman spoke in Farsi.

“Hey Maggy,” Sadja replied back in English.

The older sister took the sunglasses off and put them inside a case in her bag. “How’s mom doing?”

Sadja began driving. “Oh, ya know. Driving me crazy like always. What about you? How’s LA?”

The older sister pushed some hair out of her face, and smiled. “Troy and I got a new apartment, a little bit closer to where our other friends are. He’s still working that tech job, and I still have the trainer gig with our Crossfit gym.”

“Yeah,” Sadja remarked, taking a quick glance over at the girl. “I can tell.”

About 45 minutes later, the two reached the house. Their mother greeted them when they came out of the car, smiling brightly when she saw the older of the two.

“Ah, Magyar! How are you doing, my love?”

The two embraced on the path to the front door. “I’m doing great, mama.” She switched over to her parent’s native tongue as they reached the door. “You need help with cooking?”

“Oh, just here and there. I’ll take you to your room first.”

While the other two came through the door and hurried on ahead, Sadja stayed behind and placed her keys on the counter. As she heard the happy conversation from the other room, she took out her phone and sent a text message.

| just got back from airport, maggy is here. how u holding up?

Kat heard her phone ding, and took it out of her pocket. She sat near the head of a large dining table, with a pantheon of similarly blonde-haired and blue-eyed people coming to and fro, picking out food, and shuffling in seats. 

| about to eat. pray4me. dad’s gonna say something dumb to rachel, i can already feel it

As she sent the message, Kat felt a tap on her shoulder. It was her mother.

“Phone away. We’re about to eat.”

Kat complied, turning the phone on silent and putting it back in her pocket. Mrs. Wilkins sat next to her, and a minute later Mr. Wilkins came out from the other room, chuckling with an older family relative, then sitting at the head of the table.

“Well, thank you all, both the Wilkins and Virginia families, for coming to our home this afternoon. It’s always really wonderful to see all of you in person, and to catch up and see how you’re all doing. As is customary for this reunion, I’d love it if you could all join me in a silent prayer before we break bread.”

Kat, alongside all the others at the table, closed her eyes. She reached out and interlocked her hands with those sitting next to her at the table — on her right side her mother, and on her left side her Aunt Jean. For those silent moments, Kat thought to herself.

Hey, God. If you’re out there, could ya do something for me? I’d really appreciate it if, you know, caused some sort of mass hysteria to get spring semester cancelled. Not getting anyone hurt, of course. But maybe like… I dunno, getting all the databases at the College Board deleted, and then they send out a message saying like, ‘Oh, we’re all so sorry but we’ve lost all our AP tests for this year, but we’d really like to reward our students in these trying times, so we’re giving everyone a perfect 5 on their tests for their hard work.’ Then I graduate with like a 4.2 or some shit — stuff, sorry — and I promise I’ll be a really good girl from then on. Wow, this prayer feels a lot longer than it was last year. Okay, maybe you could also throw in a trip to Cabo. We’ll have it at the Marriott resort, and it’ll be me, Sadja, Cole and Maria if they’re together by then, and of course Luke. Oh, and about that… please have us stay together. And don’t let me make a stupid call like that again.

“Thank you for sharing that moment with us,” Mr. Wilkins addressed to the family, opening his eyes. “You may now eat.”

The children, who all sat at the far end of the table, began devouring their food without resolve. The others who dined made a much more formal show, with the exception of Kat. The girl made some attempt at regality near the beginning of her meal, but quickly began to devolve as she realized how hungry she really was. There were a few side conversations going on across the scope of the table, but Kat had done a good job of blocking them out and focusing on her food. It was only a chance remark from her father that finally set her anxieties in.

“…Well, the profit margins have been doing great this year, so I’m not too worried. Taxes have been killing our wallet, but with the new administration I’m pretty hopeful things will go much more rationally in that regard.”

There was a woman sitting near the middle of the table. She was a few years older than Kat — perhaps in her mid to late 20s. She had short wavy blonde hair, and wore a floral bandana on top of it. When she heard Mr. Wilkins speak, she suddenly put down her fork and faced him directly.

“Oh, I’m sure you’re very satisfied with your new administration, aren’t you?” She spoke venomously.

Kat slumped back in her seat, and closed her eyes tightly. Rachel, listen, she thought to herself, I love you. But could you please at least once give me a normal Thanksgiving? Please?

Mr. Wilkins gave a gentle smile as he patted the sides of his lips with a napkin, seemingly expecting the response. “Well, Rachel, as I’ve told you before… The Democrats have good intentions, there’s no denying that. But there’s a difference between an idealized world and the real world. And when it comes to running a market, or an economy in general, one needs to take a much more laissez-faire approach. Firms have the best interests for their customers in mind, because they have to — otherwise the customers will just switch to a competitor.”

Rachel took a sip of her water. “Alright, well, ignoring that the last thing you just said is bullshit,” She put down the cup and looked Gordon Wilkins directly in the eye. “Are less taxes and better profits supposed to justify poor treatment of refugees and immigrants? Hell, don’t you have a landscaping and maid service that helps you at this house?”

Mr. Wilkins waved his hand dismissively. “Carlos and his family are very good people. They’ve always done a good job for me, have been in the country for years, and have their documents. The problem isn’t with people like that. The problem is with these new immigrants that are breaking in, circumventing all the rules that Carlos had to go through, and then sit around doing nothing for their society or economy. Also — let’s face it, our president-elect is right — many of them just so happen to be rapists and murderers.”

Kat nearly spat out her drink all over the table. She choked for a second, patting her chest to regain composure, then went and tapped her mother’s shoulder, an exaggerated smile on her face.

“I think I’m gonna go to the bathroom.”

Mrs. Wilkins nodded, and Kat took the chance to walk out of the dining room as quickly as possible towards the nearest restroom. As she approached, the door suddenly opened and a tall man with a near-bald head and mustache came out. 

“Hi, Uncle Dan.” Kat gave a tired smile. 

Her uncle smiled back. “Hello there, girl! Food and everything good? Your father and I didn’t undercook the turkey, did we?”

“No, Uncle Dan. Turkey’s great.”

Dan chuckled, and patted her softly on the shoulder, then went back to the dining area. Kat took the chance to quickly enter the bathroom and lock the door behind her. She sat atop the toilet, and took out her phone. She thought for a moment, then texted the first person that came to her mind.

| hey boo. hows “a very schrodden thanksgiving” comin along?”

Lukas heard the vibration of his phone against the metal of the patio table. He leaned forward in his seat, and checked the message. He smiled brightly when he saw it.

“It’s Kat?” Cole asked, the wind of the outdoors blowing through his thick dark brown hair. 

Lukas typed a response back. “Yup.”

“Lemme guess — good ol’ Gordon and Cousin Rachel are having a fight about politics again?”

“Ohhh, after this election? It’ll probably be the most fiery one yet.”

“In that case, have her keep us in the loop. I wanna know if anyone starts screaming, or runs out the house, or they start fist fighting. Anything like that.”

Lukas laughed, his feet up on top of the patio chair. “I’m sure she’ll love playing point for us.”

Mr. Schrodden slid open the back door of the house, two plates of Thanksgiving feast in his hands. “You two kids having fun out here?”

“You bet,” Cole commented. The man smiled and placed the two plates on the table between them.

“Thanks, dad.”

“Thanks Chris.”

“Remember, there’s more inside,” Christopher Schrodden spoke as he walked away from the two. “So if you want seconds, feel free to fix yourself some.”

After the father left, Lukas picked up his plate and started eating. Cole looked forward.

“Well, I’m glad things ended up working out.”

“With what?”

“With you and Kat.” Cole leaned back in his seat, the back of his head resting against his crossed arms. “I mean, I knew it would happen eventually, of course.”

Lukas gave him a look. “Yeah, no thanks to your genius plan.” The teen felt his phone vibrate in his lap, and picked it up. “Okay, it is Cousin Rachel.”

“Tell her to get out of hiding!”

“You have her phone number too, y’know.”

Cole shook his head, and began taking his phone out of his pocket. “You guys have any plans for winter break?”

“No… not for right now at least. Probably nothing big, since Gordon is still weird on the whole thing.”

“Gordon is always ‘weird on the thing’.” Cole sent off a text message, then went to eat off his plate. “What about after graduation? She’s pretty certain now she’ll go to Oregon, right?”

“Yeah. I dunno, I’ll probably go with her. I, well… applied to Oregon ahead of time, so it’s not an issue.”

Cole smiled, and took a sip of water. “Well, you two will have to visit me sometimes. It’ll get mighty lonely out here by myself.”

“You can come with us, you know. I won’t mind, and I doubt Kat would either.”

Cole put down the cup, and sighed. “There’s a lot of places I’d be okay with ending up at, but I don’t think Eugene Oregon makes the list.”

Lukas watched the boy as he ate his food. He grinned at him. “So, what? You’re just gonna become one of those deadbeats in South Bend, always reminiscing about your glory years at Kinsky High?”

“No, I’ll find something. I mean, I don’t intend to never go to college. I just need a year or so to… figure some things out, by myself.”

Lukas dipped a piece of turkey into the stuffing, and cranberry sauce, and took a bite. “Well, you can always settle down early with a nice lady. I’m sure that’s what Aaron plans on doing.”

Cole shook his head. “I don’t think I’m ready for that.”

“Why not? Still lookin’?”

“I mean… yeah, sort of. I think it’s more just… I don’t know if I’ve got the whole girl thing figured out yet.” Cole picked out a few trees of broccoli and ate them before continuing. “The way I see it, girls are a lot like dogs-”

“Jeez, Cole. Didn’t know you were a misogynist.”

“No no, not like that. Let me finish, will you?” Cole took another sip of water. “Girls are a lot like dogs. They’re cute, excitable, easy to cuddle. But they also have very short attention spans… and, well, they require a lot of love and care.” He looked back out to the wide clearing leading to the treeline. “And I want to make sure I give that. That I do at least a decent job and, you know, don’t totally blow it on my first time through.”

Lukas gave an empathizing smile, then leaned forward in his chair. “I don’t think you can ever be ready, really.”

“Well, who knows…” Cole gave a smile too. “…maybe after that year to myself, I’ll find my confidence.”

The two heard the sliding door open behind them. It was Marion.

“The game’s on, if you two want to come inside.”

The boys got up, and walked towards the door. As Lukas went on ahead, Cole hesitated. He took out his phone, and sent out one more text.

| Hola. Come estes?

A quiet ding went off in the Cortez home, and Maria quickly swung around to pick up the phone it belonged to. She saw the text and smiled, then quickly typed up her own response.

| Its “¿Cómo estás?”, but ur getting better. I think.

“Maria, put the phone away please,” her mother chided in Spanish. 

Maria put the phone back in its charger on the counter. At the dining table sat Mrs. Cortez at the head, and Lorenzo directly across from her daughter. The rest of the house was empty, and for the most part silent.

Lorenzo and Maria had avoided all eye contact most of the day. The girl kept her eyes trained on her food, choosing to focus on it rather than the anxiety that filled the room.

“These enchiladas are great, mama.” She complimented.

“Mhmm,” the mother replied, wiping her face with a napkin.

Another bout of silence set in. The girl couldn’t handle it, and so she spoke up again.

“Um, mama…” Maria thought for a moment, and considering the importance of the message switched back over to the mother tongue. “I wanted to ask if I could go over to Cole’s this weekend. Just for the day, not to stay over.”

“I don’t think it’s good for you to stay with boys that long at your age,” Lorenzo suddenly interrupted.

Maria glanced back at him, but kept the focus on her mother. “It’s not just Cole. Kat will be there too, and Lukas. They set it up, and invited me, and well… I don’t want to disappoint them.”

“There will be other times to talk to them. Like at school.” This was Lorenzo again. Maria turned back to face him more fully, her mouth in a grimace. But it was Mrs. Cortez who spoke next. 

“Your primo is right,” she dictated in English. “You stick with your girl friends. They’re a good influence on you.”

Maria was at a loss for words. She stumbled, trying to think of a retaliation, but she ultimately couldn’t think of one. “Right,” she conceded, looking back down at her plate.

A few more moments of silence passed. Maria sighed and moved back from her plate.

“I think I’m full,” she spoke somberly.

Mrs. Cortez looked at her. “You eat more. You’re a growing girl.”

“I know, I’m just… I’ll save it for later, okay?”

Mrs. Cortez nodded. Maria got up from her seat, took her phone out of the charger, and walked on past. She stopped at the stairs when she suddenly heard Lorenzo and her mother speaking in muted voices. She listened closely to their Spanish, but eventually realized they were talking about holiday plans. She continued up the stairs and into her room.

Once she got there, she collapsed on top of her bed and brought her phone up to her face. As the blue light of the screen illuminated her in the darkness of her room, she sent out a text.

| Thanksgiving is depressing. How is urs, chica?

Rose came into her house, carrying a large box. Two other, younger figures came following her, one a girl no older than 10 and the other a boy of around 13 or 14. 

“Ah! I don’t know why you couldn’t just carry this in yourself!” Rose exasperated in Japanese.

The younger boy smiled. “I told you. I have a sprained ankle, I can’t carry anything too heavy.”

An older, balding man suddenly came down the stairs as the two spoke. “Ah, good,” he said, pointing down onto a table in front of them. “Put it right there for now.”

Rose did as asked, placing the box on top of the table and breathing in a sigh of relief. She heard the sound of a small dog yapping above her, and looked up the stairs.

“Bonny! Where are you, baby?”

The yapping turned into the sound of a wagging tail and small, frenzied footsteps against the second floor. Rose unzipped her jacket and pulled out her phone from the inside pocket to see who had texted her moments before.

The young girl looked down at Rose from a perch of stacked boxes in the corner of the room. “You textin’ your boyfriend?”

Rose looked up at her. “What’s it to you?”

The girl on the stoop gave an exaggerated shrug. “Oh, nothin’. Just that you haven’t spent a minute not on your phone since we left the airport.”

The boy laughed, looking over at Rose. “Looks like she wants something other than the turkey this year.” He made a mocking kissing face, which the other young girl quickly copied. Rose looked at the two with a grimace.

“Piss off!”

“Rose, be nice to your cousins!” her father ordered from the kitchen.

 Rose sighed, and slumped down into a nearby chair. A few moments later, she felt a furry object at her feet. Bonny gave a high-pitched yap, and Rose looked down and smiled.

“Bonny! How are you, my wubby? I haven’t seen you all day! Come, come to mama!”

The girl picked up her pomeranian, and placed it on her lap. The dog quickly laid down there and closed its eyes, as Rose softly patted its head.

“How many more days will that dog be here?” Mrs. Kawakami came out of the kitchen to say, leaning on the doorframe.

“I told you. We take her for a week, then the McNamaras take her for a week, and we switch off like that.”

Rose’s mother looked down at the dog, and shook her head. She walked back to the kitchen. “I don’t know if I can do that. Do you know how many dog hairs I found cleaning yesterday?”

“But mom! You already agreed to it!”

Bonny suddenly opened its eyes upon hearing the distressed tone of its owner. It looked around for a bit, before it saw the younger girl on top of the stack of boxes, sitting with her phone. Suddenly the dog jumped out of Rose’s lap, and walked over to her cousin.

Her cousin looked down and saw the dog. Smiling, she came down from the boxes and began petting it. “Hey Bonny!” she exclaimed. Bonny began to wag its tail and lick the girl’s face, causing her to laugh. “Wow Rose, looks like your dog likes me better than you!”

Rose shook her head and slumped down into her in her seat. “Bitches stay together,” she muttered under her breath.

The Japanese teen waited for a few moments, then looked around. The rest of the house was distracted — her parents by cooking, her cousin Minato by the dog, and her cousin Eddie by his phone. Quickly she turned to her side and took out her phone once more. She sent out a text to the first person on her contacts list.

| heyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy! hows ur thanksgiving babe????

“Alright, now keep that position!”

Aaron laid on a yoga mat next to his mother, trying his best to copy her complex yoga maneuver. His face was contorted with pain.

“I swear… I’m gonna break my legs if I bend them any farther back…” He exasperated through his breath.

“Come on, honey! This is the home stretch, we’re done after this.”

Mr. McNamara sat at a nearby dinner table, watching the football game on TV. “That’s right, son. Remember the way of McNamara name: no giving up until we’ve accomplished what we need to do!”

Aaron looked up at him. “You didn’t even try!” 

“Well, I would have. But I’m not at the… physical dexterity that I used to be. I’m 55 now, I’ve got arthritis in my right hand, and my doctor doesn’t recommend that I do the yoga your mother can do.”

The boy sighed. “That just sounds like an excuse you made to watch the game.”

“Alright, we’re done!” Mrs. McNamara jumped up from her position, slapping her hands together. “I’ll go get the food ready. Are we eating up near the TV?”

Mr. McNamara looked up at his wife, and smiled. “If that’s alright with you, my love.”

The wife gave a sly smile back. “Okay, maybe just this year I’ll make an exception.”

While his mother walked back to the kitchen, Aaron had collapsed on the yoga mat. “I think I’m just gonna stay like this for awhile,” he muttered, his body splayed out on the ground and his chest breathing heavily. 

He patted the ground a few times, looking for his phone, and eventually finding it. He saw the message from Rose, and responded with a picture of his tired face. Scrolling through the text list, he found another contact and sent over a message.

| Yo Rus, they’re tryna kill me man. Just did a hour of “ashtwanga” yoga, whatever the

| fuck that means.

“Alright, boys!” Billy announced, a large pot in his mitted hands. Russell and Mahalo watched him as he placed the pot in the center of the table. “Chef’s Special Jambalaya. You get a prize if you guess all the ingredients. Hey, take those sunglasses off at the table! You ain’t Ray Charles.”

Russell did as he was told, taking the glasses off and putting them to the side. Mahalo laughed, causing the older brother to look at him.

“What’s so funny, kid?” Russell asked, smiling himself.

“Nothin’,” Mahalo replied, looking down at his plate.

Billy grabbed a large ladle, and the two other brothers took turns lifting their plates so that Billy could fill them. When Billy had finished filling his own, he sat down and reached his hands out to the two others. The three interlocked their hands, and closed their eyes.

“Heavenly Father,” Billy began, “We’d like to thank You for giving us the chance to come together and share this bountiful meal as a family. We know that we, like all Your people, have experienced hardship, which we have taken in stride. And we also know Your blessings, the miracles of life and hope which You spread throughout our days. So once again, we’d like to thank You, and we dedicate this meal to You. Amen.”

“Amen,” Russell and Mahalo both repeated in unison.

The three opened their eyes again, and Billy rubbed his hands together excitedly. “Alright, who’s gonna take the first crack at a guess?”

“What’s the prize, anyway?” Russell asked.

“Well, if I told you that’d ruin the surprise.”

Russell looked down at his bowl, moving it around a bit. “I mean… There’s sausage in here.”

“Congratulations, Sherlock, you got the easiest fuckin’ ingredient. What else?”

Mahalo took a spoonful in, eating it diligently. “There’s sriracha in this,” he noted diligently.

“Ahhh,” Billy wagged his spoon at the young boy. “You right, Mally. Usually you put in some Creole shit, but I gotta give it to my Thai Brothers for the flavor. Yet you’ll be disappointed to know that’s not the ingredient I’m thinking of. Come on, think carefully. It’s something you can see, at least.”

Russell took a few bites himself, but ended up shaking his head. “I got nothin’, chief.”

Mahalo similarly shrugged his shoulders.

“Tsk tsk tsk, guess none of y’all gettin’ the prize.”

“Man, I don’t even wanna know what yo prize is,” Russell said.

Billy leaned back in his chair. “Aight, aight. Guess I’ll give away my big secret then.” He pointed down at his own bowl. “Tripe.”

Russell looked up, a confused and somewhat disgusted look on his face. “Tripe?”

“Yeah, it complements the flavor and adds a respectable bit of chewiness. Plus, all them rich niggas use it.”

“Uhh, what’s tripe?” Mahalo asked.

Russell looked back down at his bowl, then pushed his chair back, stood up, and began to walk away.

“What, you pussyin’ out already?” Billy called after him.

“Nah, I’m just gonna check the game real quick.”

“Rus, what’s tripe?” Mahalo asked again, a little more desperately.

Russell walked down into the living room. He took a peek at the TV, which was already turned on to football. He then picked up his phone off the coffee table to check his messages. He smiled at Aaron’s, then sent one of his own to another.

| Hey, chief. How are you and your leg doing?

Isaac looked up towards the ceiling fan in the living room. He was sitting on the couch, positioned so that his leg — now enclosed in a heavy cast — could rest on the table. As soon as his phone dinged, he grabbed it off the shelf next to him, and checked the message. As he responded, he subconsciously took his foot off the table, causing him to groan slightly in pain.

“Try to keep the foot rested,” his father spoke, peeking out from behind a wall with a kitchen rag in his hands.

Isaac sighed, positioning the leg back on the makeshift stand. “It doesn’t hurt that much anymore. At this point, it’s mostly my dignity. And I don’t know when that’s gonna heal.”

His father shook his head, walking back into the kitchen. “You’ll be fine. You’re being dramatic.”

“I don’t know, man. Going all the way to the championship game for the first time in years, only to completely blow it? People remember that shit, man.”

“Maybe if this was the 80s, in Kansas City,” Mr. Broderick said from the kitchen. “But no one cares that much about football anymore. They go to games to hang out with their friends, and maybe get drunk afterwards.”

Isaac smiled. “I think you’re what they refer to in literature class as a ‘nihilist’.”

His father came back around the corner with two plates in his hand. “Not exactly the same thing, but I’m glad you’re at least learning something. Here’s your plate.”

“Thanks.” Isaac took the plate and fork, and examined its contents. “You’ve been working on your plating.”

Cael Broderick sat down on the opposite end of the couch. “I mean, you can do Thanksgiving only so many times before you start to get bored and try experimenting.”

“I like it. Makes me feel like I’m at elBulli.”

“Are you mocking me?”

Isaac looked over at his father. He snapped his fingers, and pointed at the man. “Nihilist.”

Mr. Broderick scoffed, and turned his attention back to the TV. “So, how have your friends been doing?”

The boy went to his phone again. “Cole and Rus are doing well, just having thanksgiving with family. Maurice… I haven’t heard from him yet today.” He thought for a moment, looking at the black screen of the phone. “Should I ask how things are going?”

“Well, it couldn’t hurt.”

“I dunno, their mom is weird. I don’t want to, like, get him in trouble for texting him during dinner or something.”

Cael turned towards his son. “Nobody is going to get mad at you for asking how they’re feeling.”

Isaac considered it. Eventually he turned back on the phone, and sent a text to Maurice.

| hey man. how are you?

If the Cortez family thanksgiving was quiet, then the Bryant family thanksgiving was quiet, dark, and cold. There wasn’t much to show for food beyond a few sandwiches that were hastily made at the last second, and involved the family sitting together at a small rounded dining table.

Maurice and Emily were both away from their phones for all this, and quietly hoped for the meal to last as short as possible. While Mrs. Bryant had her always watchful gaze, she seemed relatively tame for the day, despite no other sign of festivity. Maurice finished his meal, then quickly walked back to his bedroom.

The first thing he did was pick up his phone, and see Isaac’s message. It made him smile, and he sent out a quick response to it. But it was not what he had intended the phone to be for.

Instead, he sent out another message quickly after.

| Hey there. Survived the witch. Are you doing well?

Rodrigo walked into the trailer home, a bag of McDonalds in his hand. His mother was sitting in front of the CRT TV like before, watching the static-filled image of a Mexican soap opera. 

“Hola, mama.” He placed the bag on the table between two armchairs, and took out two hamburgers. His mother’s he unfolded, and placed gently next to her. Then he walked around and sat in the other armchair.

Putting his feet up onto the chair, he took a bite of the burger and then went to his phone. He saw the text by Maurice, but instead went over to text the boy’s sister.

| 0.0 maurice said u survived la bruja. wana call?

Emily was lying in her bed already on her phone when she got the message. After she read it, she took a look over at the wall beside her, then got up from the bed and took a few steps away. She called Rodrigo.

“Hola,” Emily greeted him as he picked up.

“Hola chica,” Rodrigo spoke back, getting up and walking away from the armchair. “I know I promised I’d have something by today, but… I’m not gonna lie to you, I haven’t come up with jack shit.”

Emily smiled. “I mean, his birthday isn’t for another two weeks, so you still have a lot of time. Want me to give you some ideas?”

“Yes, ma’am. I’m just stuck. I don’t know, I just… I don’t want it to be some generic gift. I want it to be special. I just suck at thinking of ideas.”

Emily sat at the desk at the far end of her room. “Well, he could always use more exercise stuff. He’s been looking at getting a foam roller for awhile now.”

“I considered that, but it feels boring. Everyone just knows Maurice as ‘the athletic guy’, and it feels like I’d just be perpetuating that. I want it to be something special.”

The girl thought for a few moments. Something came to her head, and she smiled.

“Did you know Maurice is a big coffee snob?”

A grin appeared on Rod’s face. “No, actually. I didn’t.”

“He got really into it starting a year or so ago. Everytime he gets a coffee he checks where it’s from, down to the specific farm or whatever. He knows all the different types of coffee, too — the lungos, the affogatos, all that stuff. Anyway, he’s been looking at grinding his own coffee for awhile now. Has a grinder he’s been eyeing specifically.”

Rodrigo lit up. “I’ll get him that, then!”

“You sure? It’s like, $250. I was just gonna suggest you get him some bean coffee that he can use with it.”

The boy stretched his arms. “That’s like, what, one paycheck? Maybe two? I should be able to do it.”

“I can help you pay for part of it.”

“No no, it’s fine. Your help on thinking of the idea is enough. Gracias, senorita.” 

Emily giggled. “Y gracias, senor.”

The two ended the call, and Emily returned back from her bed. There was one last person she wanted to text before calling it in for the night. She looked for the contact, and wrote her message.

| hey ash. you had a good thanksgiving?

The Monitcello family had just finished their 3-person dinner, and now sat on the couch watching a superhero movie. Ash, who bundled herself up on the couch wearing a gray sweatshirt and slightly darker gray sweatpants, watched the movie rather passively in comparison to both her parents. At some point she felt the need to go to the bathroom, and so she quietly excused herself by getting off the couch.

“I’ll be right back,” she called out.

“Are you sure? You might miss the ending. I can pause it if you want,” her father answered.

“No, it’s okay. I’m just gonna go pee, I’ll be gone for a few seconds.”

“Your stomach isn’t upset, right?”

“Mom. I’m good.”

Her mother looked down, and nodded. “Just checking. I had kind of a bad stomach ache most of the night myself. Think it might have had something to do with the turkey.”

“No, your turkey was great. Anyway, I’ll be back.”

Ash walked down the hallway into the bathroom, and while sitting on the toilet took out her phone. She saw the message from Emily, and with a soft smile on her face she replied to it.

| It was good. Same old same old. Thanks for asking.

The girl eventually finished up, washing her hands and walking back out to the couch, where she found a place between her mother and father. She came back just in time to see the end.