To You and Back

Chapter 19: A Bittersweet Thanksgiving

TWELVE YEARS AGO.

He was in the front entryway, almost standing guard by one of the two windows that flanked the front door. Every other second he parted the lace curtains to look out, glancing left and right. But the road beyond the driveway and front lawn remained empty.

Fourteen year old Charlie gave a short, sharp exhalation of breath. He paced from one window to the other, then stopped and checked his image in the hall mirror. He was dressed in dark slacks, a dark blazer, and a plum colored sweater vest with small white leaves at the borders. Passing his hands over his blond hair to smooth non-existent stray strands, he returned to the window to look outside once more.

"Hey," came a voice from behind. Glancing back, Charlie saw his cousin come walking down the hall. She was taller than him, older than him, with waist length blonde hair, and wearing a long sweater dress and knee length boots. "Your boyfriend still not here?" she asked.

"He's not my boyfriend," said Charlie, turning back to the window.

"Oh, that's right, I forgot, he's Michael's boyfriend," she said, coming to stand with him.

"Shut up, Linda, he is not," replied Charlie, quickly and a little too insistently.

The girl grinned knowingly. Crossing her arms, she leaned closer to him. "Oh?" Prolonging the word. "Do you have a crush on your brother's friend, little Charlie?"

"I do not," came the retort. "And he's my friend, too."

"I bet he is," she said, reaching out to poke and pinch him teasingly.

"Stop it!" Charlie batted her hands away. "Stoooooop!" he whined as she continued.

"Oh, that's good," she said, "guys like a whiner. Now let me see your pout."

"Stop," Charlie said, flinching away from her sharp nails. She continued, and they moved in small circles in front of the doorway. "Stop it, or I'm telling Grandma!"

"Do it," she said, "and maybe I'll do a little telling of my own."

"What are we telling who?" came another voice from the hallway.

Both cousins looked up to see two older boys standing in the hall. One was sixteen-year-old Michael, Charlie's older brother, dressed in a suit and multicolored sweater. Beside him, and the one to whom Charlie's gaze went immediately, was a tall, mahogany haired boy with a crooked smile and twinkling dark eyes, dressed in a dark suit and tie.

"Peter!" Blue eyes widened and Charlie rose a hand to his hair. "When did you—how did you—"

"Oh," said Linda, "didn't I tell you? Peter showed up an hour ago. I let him in myself."

Charlie shot her a dirty look as she stuck her tongue out at him and walked away.

"Can't you two get along?" Michael asked with an exasperated sigh.

"Of course not," she said, walking pass him. "We're cousins."

Michael shook his head as Peter laughed.

"Michael, why didn't you tell me?" Charlie said, coming closer. "And you—you've been here an hour and I didn't even know!"

Peter looked at the frowning pouting face and smiled. "Sorry. I was sleeping off jetlag."

"Bull," Charlie muttered. "You never get jetlag."

"Language," Michael said sternly.

Charlie hmphed and walked pass them.

"I told you he'd be mad," Michael said as they turned to follow.

"Yeah, but he's cute when he's mad."