Page 106 of Perfect
“Well, if you don’t have plans and want to stuff yourself to death on Ethiopian food, you’re invited to my place. Suzie and Catherine are stopping by, and you can bring your mysteryboyfriend. Dylan and I will play good cop, bad cop about his intentions with you,” she says with barely contained glee, and I force a laugh.
“I’ll let you know,” I say, my smile straining my cheeks. I’d much rather go to Bailey’s than deal with whatever Theo’s planning. He’s not one for restraint and he loves the holidays, which is about to be my own personal nightmare.
I don’t go to the rec center during my lunch. Instead, I go to a bar and have two vodka sodas, grateful not to receive a mothering text from Theo about drinking during the day. On the way back to the office, I pick up two tall cans of alcoholic seltzer. I usually wouldn’t drink at work, but it’s a slow day and Theo’s about to be so fucking overbearing and overwhelming that I know I’m going to have a tough time dealing with him.
I take a large coffee mug and the seltzer into the bathroom, pouring it into the mug and tucking the empty can in my purse. Theo doesn’t text me, and I spend the last few hours of work buzzed, preparing myself.
I walk to his house after work, dread coiling in my stomach, and I freeze when I enter the kitchen. I wasright –he has gone insane.He looks like he’s preparing to feed roughly twelve people, even though it’s just us.
He looks up and smiles at me broadly enough that his dimples are noticeable.
“Hi, sweetheart.” He’s buzzing with energy as he pulls me into a deep kiss. I break away from him and look around the packed kitchen, my heart rate skyrocketing.
“This is…a lot,” I say, trying to keep the panic out of my voice. He gives me a sheepish look as he pours me a glass of wine, and I look at it in surprise.
He must not have been watching me at all today.
“I know, but IloveThanksgiving. Boss was big on it, so Nana and I would cook for two days straight. Boss would invite aroundsome employees that didn’t have families, so there were always different people to talk to, and we’d watch the parade and the game and eat an illegal amount of food. I don’t know what you did as a kid, but maybe we could do something new? Like, we could cook dinner together?” His voice is eager. “For our first Thanksgiving? It’ll be perfect.”
Cold panic seeps through my body. He wants us to cook a perfect Thanksgiving together. I blink at the bread he’s breaking apart to toast for stuffing, the brussels sprouts, the green beans, the massive turkey defrosting on the counter, the brine solution in the sink, and I start going numb.
Danny wanted the perfect Norman Rockwell Thanksgiving every year, and I was expected to cook and host it at our house,myhouse, forhisfamily. Every year, I had to make a perfect turkey, which ishard, and I had to make perfect side dishes and desserts on top of that.
If I didn’t get everything right, Danny got really fucking angry.
That first Thanksgiving was the worst.
I sip the wine quickly, and Theo seems to sense my apprehension but pushes on, his voice tighter. “Iknowyou don’t cook, but I thought it could be fun. I’ll do almost everything, but I thought maybe you’d break your no cooking rule this one time? For me?” he pleads. I look at him blankly, drink the rest of the glass in one go, and pour myself another glass, drinking quickly. His smile falters.
“Okay, so you don’t have to doanything, but maybe you hang out in the kitchen with me all day?” I look over at the turkey, and I drink. “Maybe you slow down and taste your wine? We’ve talked about this, sweetie.” Theo slips the glass from my fingers, setting it out of reach. I look at him, panic rising in my body.
“IhateThanksgiving,” I whisper. He looks instantly dejected, but a thought seems to cross his mind, and he stares at me appraisingly for a second.
“Whydo you hate it?”
“Please don’t make me explain.” He purses his lips.
“You don’t want to do this at all? You don’t even want me to make dinner?” My eyes go wide at the thought that he won’t make me go through with this.
“Please, no.” He frowns, drawing in a deep breath.
“You got it.” Theo hands me my wine glass and starts chopping celery angrily. “Why don’t you get comfortable and go watch TV, okay? I’ll finish this and take all the food to the soup kitchen, and I’ll order dinner when I’m back.” He points to the bottle of wine with his knife, giving me a stern look. “That’s a nice burgundy, Alex. Go slow andtasteit, for fuck’s sake.”
I sip it slowly, barely holding back tears.
“Are you mad at me?” It comes out as a whisper. Theo drops the knife and looks at me with concern, wiping his hands on a towel before gripping my shoulders and kissing my forehead.
“Fuck, no. I’m not mad at youat all.Please don’t think that. If you don’t want to do it, we’re not doing it, and you don’t have to talk about it at all, either. I just want you to relax while I deal with this, okay?” I look up at him. His jaw is tight, but he’s smiling at me, trying to be comforting and not angry. I wrap my arms around him and bury my face in his chest, breathing in his warm scent.
He seems to knowsomethingabout why I’m reacting like this, and I don’t like that, but he’s not asking and he’s immediately accommodating it. He rubs my back, and I start to feel calmer.
“Thank you.” He holds me tightly for a second, breathing deeply.
“Yeah, of course.” He kisses my forehead lightly. “Go relax. That god-awful dating show you’ve been making me watch has a new season, and there’s some really comfortable stuff in your closet.” I pull back and blink up at him in confusion.
“Mycloset? I have a drawer.” He winces.
“Uh, yeah, you also have an entire closet in the big guest room. You don’t like getting gifts, so I don’tgivethem to you, but that doesn’t mean I don’t buy them for you. Maybe you could pretend they’re not gifts? There’s a cashmere lounge set in there that I know you’ll love.” I gape at him, appalled, trying to calculate how much money he’s spent on the Thanksgiving food, or food in general, or the number of expensive gifts he’s bought me, which I’ve apparently seen very few of.
