Color Outside The Lines || l.t.

Chapter 5 - The Sign

October had come and gone, and we were in the final stretch of November. Naomi and I were sitting at the kitchen table; she watched over me as I tried to write out the letters of the alphabet. My dad was at the stove, preparing dinner.

“I hope you guys are ready for Louis Tomlinson's famous quesadillas,” he said as he flipped one over. “They’re almost done.”

“Why are they famous?” Naomi whispered to me.

“Cause they’re the only things that my dad can cook without burnin’ em.”

Naomi stifled a laugh as she glanced over at Louis. The house phone rang, and my dad picked it up.

“Yello’?” he said as he held the phone up to his ear with his shoulder. “Oh, hey Liam, what’s up?” His face turned grim. “I’m sorry, Liam, I can’t make it… You know why not… I’m sorry, my mind is set. I hope you have a good one. Tell Danielle I’m sorry. Bye.”

With that he hung up the phone loudly on the receiver. His eyes scanned the floor briefly before he walked past us and went outside, shutting the door behind him. 

Naomi patted me gently on the shoulder. “I think I’m going to go check up on your father. Think you can master your g’s while I’m gone?”

I nodded and I watched her follow the same path my dad did. She opened the door to the backyard, closing it gently behind her. She saw Louis at the corner of the large deck, his hands spread out on the rail, overlooking the yard. She walked up and stood next to him.

“What was the phone call about, Louis?” Naomi asked, staring out into the vast yard. “It was about Thanksgiving, wasn’t it?” she asked when he didn’t respond.

“I know what you’re going to say.” Louis said quietly.

Naomi looked at him for the first time since she came out. She could see how hard he was straining to hold back tears.

“What was I going to say, Louis?”

“You’re going to say something like, ‘Oh, your wife died last year on Thanksgiving, but you should still go and live life and be merry. La dee da da,’” he said in a high pitched voice.

Naomi, mildly offended, ignored the sting of his words and placed her left hand on top of his right. “What I was going to say was that I understand why you don’t want to go to Thanksgiving and that you don’t have to go… just remember the things that you’re thankful for.”

He scoffed. “What do I have to be thankful for? My wife died a year ago.”

Her fingers held onto his hand. “Louis, don’t you dare ask that question! You know darn well that there are things and people in your life that you’re thankful for.”

Louis wriggled his hand out of Naomi’s grasp and crossed his arms across his chest. Naomi stared at the top of her hand, where his hand was, and frowned.

“But I do have one thing to ask, Louis.” she said.

“Oh boy, here it comes,” he said with an eye roll.

“Let Tommy go to Liam’s for Thanksgiving.”

“What? Why?” Louis asked incredulously, “His mum died!”

“And when Tommy is older, he can make the same choice that you’re making now! But let him have a choice, Louis. Thanksgiving is a time for family and friends and if it’s overshadowed by death, how is Tommy ever going to appreciate it?” Louis heaved a sigh. “And besides, the real anniversary of her death is on the 28th, right? That’s two days after Thanksgiving, you can both do something then. Just let your little boy live out all the Thanksgivings you got to.”