“Spoil sports.” I stick my tongue out at both of them and turn to look out the window.
I’m not even a little bit annoyed by their whining. This is our first holiday together, and if I have any say, it won’t be our last, either.
I’ve always dreamed of family traditions like this and I finally have people I create them with. The sweaters were also part of my plan to take both of their minds off the families they would be missing today.
Porsha’s family is in Ghana, and she and her mother aren’t on speaking terms. Her father died and besides an Aunt in Houston and cousins in DC, she’s alone, too. She won’t admit it, but behind her brave, bold exterior, she’s nursing a hurt that flashes in her eyes every time we talk about our families and how fucked up they are.
Joe’s son, of course was a no show. I wasn’t surprised, it fit the pattern.
But, it still sucked that I was right because Joe wanted it to happen so badly.
Up until the night before, Joe had been outwardly optimistic. When I called down to say goodnight, he said he was expecting his son to call no later than 7am so he could be on the road to Delaware and make it there for lunch.
I didn’t want to dampen his hope, so I kept my thoughts, and my plan B to myself.
At nine o’clock I went down on the pretense of giving him the sweater.
I acted when he told me that his plans to visit with his son had changed. I told him the car for the Bosh’s place would be there at noon and handed him the sweater, wrapped up in Thanksgiving themed paper.
He smiled, but his eyes misted over before he pulled me into a fierce hug and went to change. A minute later, he came out his room, refusing to put it on.
It’d had taken some convincing. But, I knew he was just busting my chops and I could tell that he loved what the sweater stood for. And so did Porsha. I’d been so wrapped up in making them happy, I hadn’t spared a thought for what the rest of this day would bring.
As soon as the car arrived and called down for us, all of the apprehension I’d been struggling with came rushing back. What would Penn say to me? His whole family knows the truth about us. Would there be people there who didn’t?
Would Penn be angry because of my father’s treatment of Carter? How would things between Carter and me be today after that intense helicopter and car ride? He didn’t say very much after I told him about the baby. I wonder if he’s angry that I didn’t tell him sooner.
Even worse is, that however uncertain I am about his feelings, there’s no ambiguity about how I feel. I’m not even close to being over him.
And my body isn’t it, either. That kiss we’d come so close to sharing has reignited the rapacious longing that consumed me the summer we fell in love.
I’ve been touching myself constantly. I’m always wet, always hot, always hungry and now I’m about to be in close proximity with him.
Can I hug him in front of them without feeling self -conscious?
Does he have someone in his life who’s coming for dinner?
If we are going to be friends, what happens when the inevitable happens and he starts dating?
He’s a star now, and he’s only going to get bigger. No matter how he feels about me, at some point he’ll move on. I can’t say for certain that I won’t either. Even though right now, it’s the remotest possibility I can imagine.
“You seem nervous,” Porsha whispers as we pull up to the building.
My heart is alternating between racing and stuttering and I can barely speak. I’ve been trying to hide it because I don’t want Joe to know. She’s the only person I’ve told the truth about Carter and I don’t want to have to explain to anyone else.
I roll my shoulders to try and dispel some of the tension that’s building. “I’m fine, just tired.”
“She’s nervous cause she’s got a crush on that boy, and she’s about to see his whole family,” Joe quips and my stomach pitches.
“No, he’s just my friend,” I protest, my heart racing again.
He waggles his eyebrows and smiles. “Look, I’m not that old. And you ain’t got nothing to be nervous about, he cause he likes you, too.”
“No, It’s not like that. And I don’t want you to say that out loud in there, please.”
Joe’s eyes widen slightly at my vehemence. He shoots a quick, puzzled glance at Porsha and just nods.
The driver pulls open the door and he slides out.
“Maybe, he’ll have a date and you won’t have a choice but to keep your distance,” Porsha says unhelpfully and I whip around to glare at her again.
She raises her eyebrows in a show of innocence, but her eyes twinkle with mischief.
My scowl deepens.
She relents with a sigh, and reaches for my hand. Her expression is solemn. “I’d be scared shitless if I were you, I mean, this is a fucked up situation,” she says.
“Gee, thanks. That’s so reassuring,” I try to tug my hand free and she holds on tighter.
“Let me finish. The fact that you came today is something you should be proud of. You’re the bravest person I know. I’m not even close to being able to face my fears this way. But whatever happens, you’re not alone. I’m here. Joe’s here. We’ve got you. Okay?”
I relax a little and nod. “Thank you. You’re the best.”
She winks. “I know, I’m fabulous.” She gives her head a toss and laughs.
“Are you two coming? It’s freezing.” Joe sticks his head back in the car and we slide out to join him.
The short ride up to Penn’s loft feels like the longest minute of my life.
The door open into her home and we’re greeted by Christmas music blaring, the smells of delicious food cooking, and Penn’s broad smile.
As soon as I see her, she sweeps me into a hug so warm that my nerves settle.
“I’m so happy you’re here, Beth. We’ve missed you,” she whispers and then I almost sag with relief. I want to cry, but I bite them back because I’m afraid if I start, I won’t stop. I squeeze her back and then make introductions.
“These are my dear friends, Joe Freeman and Porsha Tagoe. Guys, this is Penn Bosh, Carter’s mom.”
“Ah, Joe, I hear you’re a fellow Brooklynite,” Penn claps in delight, grasps Joes hands and beams at him with the same lovely warmth she showed me.
“Yes ma’am. I sure am. Thank you kindly for the invite. This is already the second best Thanksgiving I can remember in my whole life,” he says with more energy than he’s shown all day.
“You can’t call me ma’am, Joe. Everyone calls me Penn. And we’re so happy to have you two and Beth here, today.”
“What a beautiful home you have, Penn,” Porsha says, turning in a circle to take in the beautifully decorated apartment.
“Ah, thank you, decorating for the holidays is my favorite thing to do. I kind of go all out,” Penn claps her hands in delight.
She’s not kidding. The open concept space is home to her kitchen, dining and family room.
The furniture and appliances and finishings are all done in shades of cream, white and light grey. But from the accent pillows to the coffee table knick knacks, everything else screams “Thanksgiving Day.”
Pumpkin shaped candle holders adorn every table. A wreath of fall colored leaves is slung on the huge fireplace. A gold sign that “Gather” hangs above it.