Page 18 of Convergence

“Dude, are we both in this program to earn the recognition that we are lacking with our parents?” Nate said with a groan, but a smile on his lips.

“Dude, that’s too deep for after two in the morning,” I copied his inflection though in my hoarse whisper.

“Yeah, you’re right,” he said with resignation.

“For what it’s worth… I see you,” I whispered, looking down at my hands.

“I see you, too,” he said, his voice soft and deep. He pauses a moment before sliding out of my bed. “Goodnight, Eva. I hope we can all agree that we arenotgoing running in a few hours.”

I smiled as he left and shifted down to lie in the warm spot on the bed he had left. I inhaled the pine and leather soap scent of him on my pillow and it blended in with the scent of Everett on my clothes, creating a wonderful and relaxing aroma ‌I would burn in a candle any day of the week.

7

We were still in isolation and working for Thanksgiving Day. We had the Macy’s parade playing on Nate’s laptop in the morning while we worked in the lab, and at lunch, Ev and I called our families. It was kind of sad to be away from home for the holiday, but Everett promised to make us dinner so we could still celebrate. Nate drove him home at noon so he could spend the afternoon preparing our Thanksgiving dinner.

My stomach was rumbling as Nate drove us home as the sun was setting. “He better make it right. No southern bullshit like… like, I don’t know, but it better be right,” Nate said as we pulled in the driveway.

“As long as there are no marshmallows in the sweet potatoes, I’ll be fine,” I agreed.

“Ew, fuck that. Brown sugar and honey or it’s fucking garbage,” Nate said, opening the door for me. The smells of Thanksgiving enveloped us, and it carried us into the kitchen with our noses up like cartoon characters.

Everett was setting a small roasted turkey on a full table of food and wine.

“Where’s your apron, Mama Monroe?” Nate teased with a grin, picking up a dinner roll.

Everett smacked it out of his hand and scolded him. “Wash your hands and come be thankful someone takes care of your ass.”

Nate looked at me with his eyebrows raised and whispered sarcastically and loud enough for stressed Everett to hear, “Do you think that’s a promise?”

I threw my head back and laughed and led the way out of the kitchen to wash my hands.

We sat and stared at each other over the food and glasses. “Um, do we say a prayer or something?” I asked.

“Do you typically pray before you eat?” Ev asked me, curiously.

“No,” I said. “Do you?”

“No,” Ev replied.

“Soooo, can I eat then?” Nate asked, his hand hovering over the spoon sticking out of the mashed potatoes.

“Yes, you can eat,” Everett said, fighting back his smirk but his twinkling eyes gave away his amusement.

We filled our plates while marveling at how the food looked. Everett anxiously watched us take our first bites of everything. I took a bite of mashed potatoes- it was perfect. I moaned out loud to show it was tasty, and Nate dropped his fork that was loaded with turkey. Everett’s signature smirk made an appearance, but featured a little pink blush peeking out over his red beard. “So good,” I said after I swallowed my bite.

“Okay, I need some of hers,” Nate said and reached over with his fork and scooped up some of my mashed potatoes. He ate it then let out an over dramatic, high pitched porno moan. Then paused and said in his normal deep voice, “Yeah, man, it’s pretty good.”

Everett and I burst out laughing, and the rest of our dinner and two bottles of red wine continued with jokes and jabs at each other and stories about previous holidays.

“We should go around and say what we’re thankful for,” Nate suggested after we ate large slices of pecan pie and were stuffed.

“Well, I’m thankful for my country, my education, my family, good food, and good company,” Everett said and raised his wine glass.

“I’m thankful for you guys, and great food,” I added.

“Oh, shit. Now I have to say something nice,” Nate said, his cheeks rosy from the wine.

“What were you going to say?” I asked him.

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