I stood in front of the mirror, running a hand through my hair, taking a moment to admire the chaos that reflected back at me. The dim light in the room highlighted the way my curls framed my face, and I took a deep breath, feeling a mix of excitement and that familiar prickling of nerves. I wore an oversized sweater in warm autumn colors that Marie had insisted I borrow, paired with jeans that hugged me just right—enough to remind me I wasn't just some ghost drifting through life. The soft knit fabric felt cozy against my skin, like a welcome distraction from my usual vibe of dark humor and existential dread.
Thanksgiving at Marie's family? Yeah, this was going to be an adventure, and I was here for it.
The kitchen was a riot of smells—roasting turkey, cinnamon-spiced pumpkin pie, and the heavenly scent of freshly baked bread wafting together in a way that made my stomach growl like a wild animal. Laughter bounced off the walls, a cheerful melody, as Marie darted around like a freaking tornado, setting the dining table alongside her mom. Watching her, my heart warmed. Marie's easy laughter and her mom's bright smile painted a picture of a family that actually seemed to enjoy each other's company. The decorations, all vibrant leaves and flickering candles, made it feel festive—like a freaking Hallmark movie but with less cheese.
"Are you ready?" Marie's voice cut through my thoughts, pulling me back to reality. I turned to see her standing in the doorway, a vision in a striking red dress that made her look radiant, like she could light up a dark alley. Her dark hair framed her face perfectly, and the spark in her eyes ignited something deep inside me.
"Ready as I'll ever be," I replied, forcing a smile to hide my nerves. Thanksgiving had been a lonely affair for me in the past, filled with silence and the echoes of my own thoughts. The thought of being in a lively household felt like standing on the edge of a cliff, ready to leap into the unknown, my heart racing with fear and thrill.
"Come on, let's go! They can't start without us!" Marie beamed, her excitement so infectious it was hard not to get swept up in it.
As we walked to the dining room, I gripped Marie's hand tightly, finding security in her warmth. The dining room was beautifully set, with a white tablecloth draping over the table like a fancy dress and a centerpiece of colorful leaves and candles flickering softly. Marie's dad, a jovial man with a laugh that could scare off ghosts, stood at the head of the table, ready to carve the turkey.
"Look who finally decided to join us!" he boomed, grinning like a kid on Christmas. "We were about to start without you!"
"Don't mind him; he's just eager to get to the good part," Marie's mom teased, rolling her eyes playfully at her husband.
I couldn't help but laugh along with them, feeling the tension ease as I took my seat. The sound of laughter wrapped around me like a warm blanket, soothing my nerves. They joined hands for a moment of gratitude, and I squeezed Marie's hand tightly, my heart pounding with a mix of nervousness and excitement. "I'm really glad to be here," I whispered, my voice barely a breath, but it felt heavy with meaning.
As they shared their thoughts about gratitude, I listened intently, soaking in the warmth and love that radiated from Marie's family. Each person took a turn sharing their thanks, and I was surprised by the variety of responses. Some expressed gratitude for small things, like "I'm thankful for coffee," while others went deeper, talking about love, health, and the importance of family. It was enlightening, reflecting the richness of their lives.
When it was finally my turn, I hesitated for a moment.
"I'm thankful for... support," I finally said, my voice steady but soft. "For friends and family who care." I glanced at Marie, who watched me with that knowing smile of hers, and my heart swelled. "I'm thankful for you, Marie. You've helped me more than you know."
Her eyes lit up at my words, and she beamed back at me, warmth flowing between us that made me feel even more connected. In that moment, I realized how much I had come to value her presence in my life.
The meal was incredible, filled with laughter and joyful banter. We passed around dishes piled high with mashed potatoes, stuffing, and cranberry sauce, the vibrant colors of the food matching the lively atmosphere. I marveled at how normal everything felt, like stepping into a scene from a movie—an ideal holiday gathering filled with love and laughter. It was a sharp contrast to my own family—my mother gone, my father distant and uncommunicative. Yet here, surrounded by Marie's family, I felt a sense of belonging that had been missing for so long.
As the meal progressed, I watched how Marie's family shared jokes, teased each other, and supported one another with genuine love. The absence of my father felt more pronounced in these moments, but instead of sadness, I felt a flicker of relief. I hadn't seen or spoken to him since that last argument, and each day without his presence felt like a small victory. The silence had provided an unexpected freedom—an opportunity to heal without his negativity weighing me down. I no longer had to brace myself for sharp words or dismissive comments; the void allowed me to reflect on what true support looked like.
"Pass the rolls, please," I said, my tone light as I reached for the basket, feeling at ease with each bite. The food tasted comforting, and every laugh brought me closer to the moment I had longed for—being part of something again. With each mouthful, I savored not just the flavors but the experience of being surrounded by people who genuinely cared.
After the meal, Marie's parents brought out the pumpkin pie, and the atmosphere shifted to a relaxed, cozy vibe. We shared stories, played games, and even kicked off a round of charades, the house echoing with laughter. I found myself genuinely smiling, reveling in the closeness and camaraderie that filled the space. It was exhilarating to be part of a family gathering, to feel like I belonged somewhere.
At one point, Marie turned to me, her expression serious but gentle. "I know the holidays can be tough," she said softly, her voice brimming with understanding. "If you ever need to talk or want to share anything, I'm here."
I felt a swell of gratitude for Marie's thoughtful nature. "Thanks," I replied, my voice thick with emotion. "It means a lot to have you by my side." The sincerity of my words hung in the air, and I felt a connection that went beyond mere friendship.
As the evening drew to a close, Marie pulled me aside. "Can we go outside for a second?" she asked, her eyes sparkling with curiosity.
I nodded, intrigued by her request. We stepped onto the porch, and the cool night air wrapped around us like a gentle hug, refreshing and invigorating. The stars twinkled above, and the quiet of the night contrasted beautifully with the warmth of the day we had spent together. Each star felt like a tiny beacon of hope, reminding me that even amid the trials of my past, there was beauty in the world.
"Look," Marie said, pointing up at the sky. "Isn't it beautiful?"
"It really is," I replied, my heart swelling at the sight of the stars twinkling in the vast night sky. Their brilliance served as a reminder that even in moments of uncertainty, there was always light to be found.
Marie turned to me, a soft smile gracing her lips. "I'm really glad you came today. I know this is all new for you, but I hope you felt a little bit of what family can be like."
I took a deep breath, my heart feeling lighter than it had in ages. "I did," I admitted, the weight of my past feelings slowly dissipating. "It's nice to have people around who care."
"Good," Marie said, stepping closer, her voice low. "You deserve that. You deserve to feel gratitude for the people in your life." Her words wrapped around me like a comforting blanket, and I found solace in their meaning.
We stood in silence for a moment, the connection between us palpable, warmth spreading through my chest. For the first time in a long time, I felt like I had a support system—people who genuinely cared about my well-being.
As we stepped back inside, the warmth of the home enveloped us, and I felt the stirrings of hope. I might not have a traditional family, but I had found a new one in Marie and her parents—a support system that made me feel seen and valued.
As the night wound down and we settled in for the evening, I glanced around the room filled with laughter and warmth. In that moment, I allowed myself to feel gratitude for the small,
YOU ARE READING
The Girl Who Was Supposed to Die (GirlXGirl)
Teen Fiction--- In the dead of night, Dylan stands on the edge of a bridge, her mind heavy with the pain she's carried for years. The world around her feels as distant and cold as the dark waters below-a mirror to the weight of her broken family and lingering s...
