Page 117 of Verses

“I was going into nursing,” she said, putting a piece of filled celery on the tray beside her. “Now, I’m not sure—but I know I want to stay in medicine and I want to help people.”

“One of the things I love about you. We have a lot of classes together. We’re a great team.”

“We sure are.” Ashley got on her tiptoes and kissed him on the cheek. Although she didn’t need it, I officially approved—in my heart, at any rate.

Looking over at my mom still stirring stuff at the stove, I said, “I brought veggies, crackers, and hummus for snacks, and Wolf brought a side dish. Where do you want them?”

“In the dining room. The extra table has all the relish tray foods, and if Ashley would hurry up, she could add the celery and cheese.”

“What about Wolf’s salad?”

“Ashley can show you.”

My sister rolled her green eyes at my mother’s comment but said, “One sec.” After squirting the last of the cheese into a celery stalk, she placed it on the tray and asked Luca, “Almost done?”

“Yeah.”

“Come with me, guys,” she said to Wolf and me, breezing past us through the swinging door—but she paused on the other side, holding it open with her hip. After the two of us followed with food, Ashley had me put what I brought between her tray of celery and a large dish of various pickles. Then, on the other half of the side table, she had Wolf place his slaw next to a giant bowl of green salad. There were also a couple of Jell-O dishes my mother liked to make for the holidays.

I had to admit that everything looked nice…and it felt like it might be a happy holiday. Maybe I’d just needed to grow up a little more to appreciate it.

When we entered the kitchen, my mom had the turkey displayed on a large serving tray. Possibly sensing that she was on the verge of feeling stressed, Wolf asked, “Is there anything I can help with?”

My mom said, “I’m so glad you asked. I’ll have you stir the gravy while I carve the turkey. Luca, are you done with the salad veggies?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

I knew my mother well enough to know that I didn’t need to ask. She’d tell me what she needed when the time came—but, in the meanwhile, I decided to wash up the dishes that were in the sink so there would be fewer later.

As we got closer to mealtime, the kitchen grew chaotic—but, for the first time, it felt a little less tense. What was up with that?

I reminded myself that even a broken clock is right twice a day—and that had to be what I was seeing in the kitchen at that moment…because a dysfunctional family can’t be calm all the time. I could only hope we could escape before the hurricane arrived on shore.

CHAPTER 32

“Amen.”

We all took our seats at the table, having finished the obligatory prayer that my mother only insisted be done at major holiday meals, and we started passing food around.

My mother said, “Remember, everybody: you need to try Phil’s turkeyandmy turkey, and then you have to tell me which one you like best.”

Was it obvious to everyone else? Clearly, my mother wanted hers to be voted the best so she could rub Phil’s nose in it. She would thoroughly enjoy telling him that he’d wasted a lot of money on a fancy contraption when her tried-and-true way was still better.

Then again…maybe she wantedhimto win so she wouldn’t have to worry about cooking a turkey every holiday. But that wasn’t the vibe I was getting.

As we filled our plates, I glanced down to the end of the table where my stepfather sat. He hadn’t changed much since the last time I’d seen him, although he looked to be missing a few more strands of hair—hair that was slowly transforming from brownto gray. As always, Phil was clean shaven, but his eyes looked tired.

I wasn’t surprised, considering he stayed with my mother.

I knew Phil was a decent enough guy—and when I could separate the emotional turmoil I’d felt in my youth, I could see that maybe he just wanted what was best for my mom. Maybe it had turned out to be best for me as well—because Kyle’s family had felt far more stable than my own in my teenage years.

Piling mashed potatoes on his plate, Phil asked, “So, Wolf, do you watch any sports?”

“I do. When I’m not doing things with the band, I’m tending bar. The owner tends to keep the televisions on news programs, but it gets the customers riled up. When I have control, I switch it to sports, because that tends to be a less heated topic.”

Phil started laughing. “You think so? What happened to all the rabid Bronco fans?”

Wolf chuckled. “They show up on occasion.”

---