Page 54 of Smoke Show

“Exactly,” I said. “I want to share everything with you.”

My words should have alarmed me. Too vulnerable. Too raw. But they were the truth, and Eve deserved nothing less from me.

I found parking on my folks’ street, wrapping one reassuring arm around Eve as we walked to their door.

“Okay, Eve. It’s showtime. Remember: the only principal’s office you know about is the one at McDonald High. As far as you know, I’m a mild-mannered principal.”

She mimed zipping her lips, and I couldn’t resist swooping in for a short kiss to seal our deal.

Mom welcomed us with big hugs, and Eve followed her into the kitchen to 'help.' With what, I had no clue. My mom was famous for her lavish Thanksgiving meals. She started planning weeks in advance with spreadsheets and trial recipes. There was no way in hell she was inviting an amateur to assist her in the final minutes. She didn’t even let me near her kitchen on Thanksgiving until it was time to clean up. I could only assume that everything was safely cooked and ready to serve, just needing organization before we dished up.

We were the last to arrive, and I nodded, greeting family friends and relatives, slowly making my way through the crush of people in the living room to hug my dad. His familiar face was set in stern lines, leftover from years of teaching high school English. He never lost the knack for managing large groups of people.

"Hey, Dad."

"Son."

A man of few words, he still hugged me tight.

"Did you bring your artist friend today?" he asked.

"Eve? Yes. I think you'll like her."

"How are rehearsals going? You're doing the play together, right?"

"Fine. We're finally off script as of this week. Dress rehearsals start week after next, then we'll have our public performances."

My dad grunted. "I still don't know why you didn't pick something with more gravitas."

"Dad, it's high school drama. They trend more toward slang and TikTok than serious literature."

"Not in my day."

Used to his under breath grumbling, I shook my head.

“Dinner’s ready, everyone,” my mom called from the arch that led to the kitchen. “Come dish up.”

I darted into the kitchen, eager to save Eve before she got swept up in the crush.

“Where’s the fire, Brady?” my Nonna Gleason scolded as I passed her.

“Sorry, Nonna. I’ll grab you a plate,” I said.

I searched the kitchen for Eve, gliding up next to where she was arranging dishes on a side table.

“Sit with me?” I murmured.

Eve glanced up with a smile. “Sure. Is there a kids’ table?”

I chuckled, shaking my head. “Nah. No assigned seats. It’s pretty much a free-for-all.”

“Really? I would have thought between you and your dad, there’d be a seating chart,” she teased.

“In case you haven’t figured it out, my mom rules Thanksgiving.”

Eve chortled softly. “Yeah. It took not even a minute for your mom to scold me for trying to help, even after she asked. Pretty sure she invited me in here to grill me about you.”

“That tracks,” I admitted with a sheepish smile. “I haven’t invited anyone to Thanksgiving before.”

---