“Hey Mr. Bigshot Rockstar,” Uncle Tony loudly bellowed when we entered their house, pulling me into a bear hug. “I’m so damn proud of you, Rhone. I know your dad is too.”
“Thanks Uncle Tony. I want you to meet my boyfriend, Ely,” I said, making the introductions.
“Ely, it’s great to meet you,” Uncle Tony said, shaking his hand.
“Ely, sweetheart,” Aunt Adrianna said, kissing his cheek. “Welcome to our home. Please, sit down.”
“Damian, Zoey, move your asses over,” Uncle Tony told my cousins who were currently splayed out across the span of the couch. Damian was four years younger than me and Zoey was three years younger than him. I was quick to point out to Ely that they were both indeed wearing lounge pants.
“Whoa,” Damian said, whistling, “that’s one pretty man.”
I laughed, Ely blushed, and Mom stood there shaking her head in disbelief. “Um, thank you?” Ely mumbled.
“Damian, I swear you have no filter child,” Uncle Tony chided.
Grandma came around the corner, giving us each a hug. “Ely, we heard about your accident. How are you feeling? Can I get you anything?”
If you met my grandmother, you would see where my mother’s caring nature came from. My father was raised in foster homes, bouncing from one to the other from what my mom and Uncle Tony told me. Sad when you think about it, never really having a family or a place to call home. Grandma Jean made sure he had all he needed and when he was eighteen, he moved in with them. Mom said he was ecstatic when they bought the house to finally have a place to call his own.
Grandma Jean was the best and no matter what Mom made, the very same thing somehow always managed to taste slightly better at grandma’s house. Never in a million years would I ever tell my mother that. Growing up Grandma had an endless supply of cookies and treats for us grandkids when we visited. There may be a few years separating my cousins and I, but we still grew up thick as thieves spending weekends at each other’s houses. If I wasn’t at Seltzer’s, it was likely you’d find me at Uncle Tony’s or Grandma’s house.
“Ely…” Damian began. “Do you like football?”
Ely glanced up at me, his eyes pleading for me to respond for him but it was an answer I didn’t know so I shrugged. “I’ve never really watched it before,” Ely replied.
“You’ve never watched football? Well, you are in for a treat. It’s a Thanksgiving tradition. The Cowboys always play on Turkey day,” Damian happily shared with him.
“Cowboys?” Ely questioned.
“Dude, the Dallas Cowboys. Best fricken team in the NFL,” Damian enthusiastically replied.
“Well, a favorite team of this family that is,” I added. “But their stats this season prove your statement wrong, Damian. We are die-hard Cowboys fans.” There was something cute about the way Damian was reacting to Ely. Like he might be developing a little crush on my man.
Ely leaned against me, placing my arm around his shoulder. I was careful not to tug or reach lower. “You need anything, babe?” I asked him.
“Nope, I’m good right where I am,” Ely replied.
It wasn’t long before he was sound asleep, I guess football wasn’t his thing and I was surprised to see him sleep through the voices screaming at the TV. Mom and Grandma checked on him a couple of times, but they mostly stayed in the kitchen doing their thing. Uncle Tony was in and out, grabbing chairs from the garage and a folding table. Basically doing whatever the three of them asked him to. Normally, I’d be helping too but I didn’t want to wake Ely. At halftime, they announced dinner was ready.
“Ely,” I whispered, waking him. “Dinner’s ready.”
“Oh my God,” he said. “I can’t believe I fell asleep. I’m so sorry. Can I help with anything?”
“Nope, everything is done and there is no way we would’ve allowed you to help. Maybe next year,” Mom said from the opening to the kitchen. “Do you want to eat out there Ely?”
“No, I’ll come to the table, but thank you,” he told her.
“I hope the chef enjoys our home cooked meal,” Grandma said, winking at Ely. Ely graced us with his signature blush. I guess Mom must have filled the ladies in on Ely’s career choice while they were cooking.
The food was set up buffet style on the kitchen island. I had Ely take a seat while I fixed both our plates and brought them over to the table. Once everyone was seated, we dug in. Well, all except for Ely. “What’s wrong?” I asked him.
“You guys don’t say grace first?” Ely asked. “Or a praise of thanks?”
“Praise hell Satan!” Uncle Tony yelled. The room erupted in laughter. Grandma smacked him upside the head. “Ouch, what was that for?”
“Your jackass comment. There will be no Satan nonsense at the dinner table. It’s obvious Ely is a man of faith and as our guest, we should’ve offered the sentiment to him. I’m sorry Ely, would you like to lead us in grace?” Grandma asked him, Uncle Tony grumbled beside her, rubbing his head.
“Oh, me? Sorry, um. No?” Ely said, looking like he was ready to bail.
Confusion rang across every face in the room.
“Then why did you bring it up?” I asked him. I knew he was raised Mormon, but I wasn’t aware he still practiced any religious beliefs.
Ely shrugged. “Was just surprised is all. We weren’t allowed to touch our plates until my father gave thanks first.”
“Well, I’m the only father here so thanks Mom, Adrianna and Katy for dinner. How’s that Ely?” Uncle Tony asked him.
Ely smiled. “Sounds perfect to me. Thank you, everyone. For this meal, for welcoming me into your home and for being nice to me.”
In typical Thanksgiving Day fashion, we ate too much, watched bad football —the Cowboys lost— and got caught up in everyone’s lives. The older we’ve gotten, the less we get together as a family and I have to say I for one, miss it. We talked about the upcoming concerts, the entire family planned to be there — including Grandma. I warned her to bring ear plugs, she just waved my suggestion off. Not long after dessert was devoured, Ely repeatedly yawned. We were all feeling it after that delicious turkey, but he was the only one I was really concerned with. After thanking everyone, hugs included, he and I headed home so he could take his meds and crash.
It was harder than I thought, leaving Rhone and going back to the crappy apartment life. I’d never slept better than I did in his arms with his warm body next to mine. But tomorrow was back to school for me and this week was crazy busy for Rhone between band practices and moving. Their furniture wasn’t slated to be delivered until Thursday though. Because of that, he and Seltzer didn’t plan to move into their house until this weekend. I couldn’t wait to see it.
Rhone had scheduled a doctor’s appointment for Wednesday after school for me to get my stitches out and insisted on going with me. I didn’t want him to feel like he had to take care of me, but I couldn’t deny my selfish side that wanted every minute we could get together. It’s hard to believe I’d become as attached to another human as I had Rhone. He and his mother had been nothing but good to me, still I couldn’t get rid of that niggling voice in the back of my head warning me it wouldn’t last.