Page 15 of All of Me

Icannot stop grinning as we leave Callie’s mom’s house. I’d never admit it out loud, but I don’t completely hate that Miley Cyrus song; it’s annoyingly catchy. I hum along to Sara singing it in the backseat, her cousin’s performance still fresh in her mind. Callie laughs at me and I try to play it off like I don’t know every word. Today has gone exactly how I hoped it would so far, and we still have two more stops to go.

Thanksgiving has always been one of my favorite holidays. I love the chance to see my family, especially on my mom’s side. I haven’t seen most of them since Cousin’s Night over the summer, and I’m looking forward to catching up with everyone.

Ruby is four-weeks old now and Callie is heading back to work this week. She doesn’t want me to be the sole financial provider, and given her past, I understand her reasons for that decision even if I don’t like them. Part of me feels like I’m failing her, like I’m not doing enough to provide for her. It makes me hate Adam even more for what he put her through, for making her feel like she’s not safe without a backup plan. Nevertheless, I’m worried she’s overdoing it. She’s exhausted, but I can’t exactly tell her that. Have you ever accidentally insulted a woman who just had a baby?! I’m not taking any chances.

Instead, I have been picking up extra shifts in Columbus Junction when I can to offset costs if she ever has to call off work. That requires balance because when I am working, I can’t be home helping her with the kids. I need to figure out a way to make things easier so she doesn’t put so much pressure on herself.

Since my parents’ divorce a few years back, I’ve had to split my Thanksgiving day between going to Grandma and Grandpa Sullivan’s on my mom’s side, and going to see my dad and his wife Beverly. My phone buzzes just as I’m about to reverse the van out of Rita and Waynes’s driveway. I pull it out of my pocket and see my cousin Vince has started a group chat with his brother and me.

Vince:

Owen, where are you? Get your ass over here. Aunt Sandra’s already had a meltdown, and I need someone to drink a beer with because Malcolm says he’s on a diet.

Sounds like the typical holiday chaos is already brewing. I can’t help but grin, shaking my head as I type out a quick response.

Me:

I’m on dad duty, so I’m not drinking much. But I’ll be there soon with popcorn to watch the Sandra Show.

The reply from Vince comes almost instantly.

Vince:

You better not miss Act II. It’s going to be a classic.

Malcolm:

Don’t encourage him. Mom’s already threatening to “clean house.” Whatever that means.

“Everything okay?” Callie asks, buckling her seatbelt.

I catch her worried expression. “Yeah, it’s just my cousins. My Aunt Sandra has already had a meltdown,” I say, tucking my phone back into my pocket.

Callie scoffs. “I can’t wait to see how that plays out. I know I haven’t met Sandra yet, but from what you’ve told me before, it should be pretty entertaining.

Aunt Sandra is the youngest of my mom’s sisters, and Mom, Aunt Serena, and Aunt Sharon always pick on her. Sometimes I feel bad for her, but then I look at her free-loading son Bruce, and think the apple must not fall far from the tree.

“Oh, it’s going to be a show,” I say, grinning as I settle into the driver’s seat. “And we’ve got front-row tickets.”

The Sullivan family chaos is in full swing by the time we arrive. Grandpa Sully’s booming laugh echoes from the living room. Vince and Malcolm’s voices trail from the kitchen, and Sandra’s distinct “I’m just saying” cuts through the background noise.

We step inside and Barrett takes off like a rocket, his laughter trailing behind him as he calls out for Grandpa Sully. Callie adjusts Ruby in her arms, her expression soft but tired, while Sara clings tightly to her leg. Sara’s thumb hovers near her mouth, a habit that’s become more frequent since we started phasing out her pacifier. It’s a trade-off that makes me uneasy—thumb-sucking might be harder to break. Kneeling down, I gently take her little hand in mine, giving her the three reassuring squeezes our family uses to say “I love you.” I’m elated when she quickly squeezes my hand back twice.

“You’re okay, sweet girl,” I murmur, hoping the small gesture will help her feel safe enough to settle into the lively, unfamiliar atmosphere. I guide Callie toward the kitchen, where Vince leans against the counter, a beer in hand. His eyes light up when he spots us.

“About time,” he says, raising his bottle. “You missed the first act. Sandra’s already threatened to cancel Christmas.”

“Classic Sandra, thinks she’s in charge of everything,” I reply with a smirk. “Guess I should’ve brought a camera instead of popcorn.”

Callie, who’s been quiet until now, suddenly stops short, her expression shifting. “Oh no,” she says, realization in her voice.

“What’s wrong?” I ask, glancing over at her.

“The candy bar brownies,” she says, her eyes wide as she shifts Ruby in her arms. “I left them on the counter. I completely forgot to bring them.”

I shrug and give her shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “ It’s fine. We’ll just binge-eat the whole tray after the kids go to bed.”

She presses her lips into a tight line. “But I told your grandma I’d bring a dessert,” she says, her voice laced with frustration. “I didn’t want to show up empty-handed.”

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