“I’ll have plenty going on, don’t you worry,” she says. “Now that I actually have a strong chance, I need to focus on filling out my scholarship application. Plus I’ll be more involved in the yearbook than ever. Also whatever my new student body president duties entail. And, of course, work. And–”
“Everything else you do,” I finish for her.
“Right,” she nods. A couple of seconds of silence stretch by before she asks, “Are you excited for basketball to start next week?”
“Oh,” I breathe. “Yeah, of course, I’m excited. Jesus, that’s already next week, isn’t it?” I ask, running a hand through my hair.
“This semester really is flying by. It’ll be Thanksgiving before we know it.”
“Fuck, I hope not.”
The words come tumbling out of my mouth before I can stop them, accompanied by my reflexive wince.
Cooper eyes me, her brows raised. “Uh…What’s wrong with Thanksgiving?”
“Nothing,” I shake my head, looking away. I try my best to look casual, but just the word alone is making my skin crawl.
“Robbie?” Cooper puts her hand on my shoulder. I try to shrug it off, but that just makes her grip my arm with both hands, forcibly spinning me to face her. “Hey, what is it?”
I flex my jaw, not meeting her eyes. “I said it was nothing, Cooper. Just drop it, please.”
“Not a chance.” My head snaps up as I’m completely caught off guard by her response. “Now,” she says, now that she has my full attention, “talk to me, Goose.”
I blow a heavy breath out of my nose. “I just… I hate Thanksgiving. Gonna be honest, Cooper. It may just be my least favorite day of the whole year.”
She tilts her head at me thoughtfully. “Why?”
“Because it’s my parents’ favorite,” I admit. “I think because they like to torture me.”
“What do you mean?” she asks.
I grind my teeth together. I don’t want to talk about this. I never talk about this–or about anything having to do with my family– toanyone.
So why is my gut telling me to word vomit every thought that’s been swirling in my mind for most of my life to Cooper right now?
“They hardly even acknowledge every other holiday,” I begin. “Most of them, they are both on-call for emergency cases at the optometry office, and on Christmas we basically always take an extravagant vacation where they can dump me on a beach and ignore me for the week while they go off on their own itinerary of things to do. But, for whatever reason, Thanksgiving is the one day a year where my parents like to pretend like we are one big happy family. My dad makes us get dressed up like we’re going to the freaking Oscars and sit around our stiff uncomfortable dining room table in our stuffy loveless home and pretend that we’re thankful for all of it. I don’t know what it is. It’s like my dad feeds off of it. Like it makes him feel like he’s meeting his yearly quota of parenting. Like he can actually pretend we are the shining golden family he wants the rest of the town to think we are.”
“Aren’t you?” Cooper asks, her voice barely audible.
I scoff out a laugh. “I guess it depends on how you define it. Sure, my family’s successful. We’ve made a name for ourselves, like my father likes to remind me every five minutes. But, at the end of the day, once we’re all just together with each other under one roof…none of us are happy. Because my dad’s never happy. Not really. I mean, my mom, older brother, and sister at least make him content. Because they try. Theywantto please him. But I figured out a long time ago that there just wasn’t any point. I was never going to be who he wanted me to be.”
I swallow, stealing a glance at Cooper. She’s watching me intently, her lips pressed together and expression unreadable.
“So I just stopped trying,” I continue. “And I’m usually able to hide from him for the most part every other day of the year. I’m just at home as little as possible. If he can’t see me, he can’t give me shit for not being half of the son he always wanted.Hell, not even half of the son he already has.”
“Steven?” Cooper asks.
I nod. “Yeah, Steven.” His name feels like acid on my tongue.
“The rest of the year, I’m usually able to remain under the radar. I never show up to family occasions, and ninety-nine percent of the time, I’m not questioned on it. But on Thanksgiving…there’s no exceptions. And…I don’t know. It just sucks.”
The air goes silent as I finish off my rant, and, as time goes on, a deep feeling of remorse starts to twist in my stomach. I rake a hand through my hair, trying to play off the embarrassment tinging the tips of my ears pink over just spilling all of my shit to Cooper. I start to fidget with my jacket. Ineverfidget. I don’t know what’s gotten into me tonight. Enough time eventually passes that I’m convinced Cooper isn’t going to say anything, but then she surprises me, suddenly speaking up.
“Does anyone else ever go to your Thanksgiving?” she asks.
I turn to look at her, caught off guard by her question. “Uh…no. Not usually. My grandparents are all dead, and my only aunt and uncle don’t get along with my parents.”Of course they don’t, I frown to myself. “So, yeah, I guess nobody usually comes. Well, nobody except my sister’s husband. And a couple of my brother’s girlfriends in the past.”
Cooper’s gray eyes are glossy as she stares up at me. Her throat bobs once before she says, “My mom always works on Thanksgiving.” My brows raise at her statement. “It pays overtime, and people at the diner are always really generous with tips on holidays. Since it’s just the two of us, it just makes sense for her to take the shift. I usually spend the day watching movies and baking a chocolate cake until she gets home a little before midnight with leftovers from the diner. It’s kind of a sad little tradition we’ve developed. But I love it.”