Whoa, Baby!

16.

Chapter Sixteen
A Table Set for Peace

Thanksgiving at my brother Tristan Jr.'s house was always an event. Or maybe I should say it had the potential to be, because in our family, nothing was ever simple.

Tristan and his wife, Gia, had transformed their home into a warm, welcoming haven for the holiday. The scent of roast turkey mingled with the sweet, cinnamon-spiced air, and I couldn't help but smile as I walked through the front door with Joe, our daughter Ocean in his arms.

The laughter, the chatter, the crackle of the fireplace—it all made me feel a mix of nostalgia and anxiety.

And then there was my cousin Briar, bless her heart, making things a little more interesting than usual. Briar had been on a journey of rediscovery this month, trying to piece together who she was and where she came from after learning about her birth father, Dwayne.

This Thanksgiving, she had invited Dwayne and his family to join us, a move that left my aunt Beyoncé and uncle Bishop—Briar's mother and stepfather—looking at each other like they'd just heard the world was ending. It was going to be a night, I could feel it in my bones.

The house was filled with relatives I hadn't seen in a while, faces that showed the passage of time with silver in their hair and laugh lines that spoke of shared memories.

The kids were running around, squealing with laughter, and I watched as Ocean's little hands reached out to touch anything and everything in sight. The moment was chaotic and perfect, a reminder of why we made the effort to come together every year.

After a while, we all gathered around the dining table, a long piece of polished wood that seemed to stretch forever. Plates of food lined the edges—mashed potatoes, green beans, stuffing, cranberry sauce, and, of course, the turkey at the center.

Everyone took turns sharing what they were grateful for before we dug into the feast. It was one of those traditions that brought us back to the basics, reminding us of the good things that made life bearable even on the roughest days.

When it was my uncle Bishop's turn, there was a silence that fell over the room. Bishop was the type of man who could command a room with a simple glance, tall and imposing, with a voice like a preacher's. He shifted in his chair, adjusted the cuffs of his shirt, and looked around the table with eyes that missed nothing.

"I'm grateful," he started, his voice deep, "for my beautiful children, especially my firstborn, Briar. God sent her into my life when her birth father failed to acknowledge her, and I'm thankful that she's been a blessing in my life ever since."

My jaw almost dropped. I glanced sideways at Briar, whose smile was so forced it almost looked painful. There was a tightness in her shoulders, a stiffness that told me she was on edge. This wasn't the time or place for that kind of drama, but that didn't stop it from unfolding.

Dwayne, sitting across from Bishop with his arms crossed and his jaw clenched, didn't even try to hide his reaction. I could see the muscles in his arms tensing, his chest rising with each breath, and I braced myself for what was coming next. The room seemed to shrink as tension coiled in the air like a snake, waiting to strike.

"Excuse me?" Dwayne's voice was low but carried the weight of a hundred unsaid words. "Did you just say what I think you did?"

Bishop didn't flinch, his gaze steady and unyielding. "I said what I meant. Briar is my daughter, and I'm proud of her."

Before things could escalate further, Aunt Beyoncé, who had been watching this unfold with the practiced calm of someone who had seen it all before, cleared her throat and stepped forward. "Bishop, Dwayne," she said, her voice cutting through the silence like a knife, "this is Thanksgiving. We don't need to air grievances in front of the family. Let's just be thankful for what we have, yeah?"

Joe, holding Ocean in his arms, shifted comfortably as if he wanted to be part of the drama but also knew better. I could tell he was low-key hoping Dwayne would swing at Bishop, just so he could see how that played out. He was such a Gemini. I couldn't even be mad; it was the kind of chaos that kept things interesting. But this was my family, and I had to keep a lid on my own emotions.

Dwayne glared at Bishop for a second longer before he sighed and looked down at his plate. "Fine," he muttered, the anger simmering just beneath the surface.

Briar shifted in her chair, eyes darting between the two men, clearly feeling caught between loyalty and the reality of her situation.

Joe shot me a look that said, Well, that was something. I wanted to laugh, but I knew now wasn't the time. Ocean reached out, her tiny hand grabbing at his shirt, and he smiled down at her, the tension in his shoulders easing.

Ocean was an anchor, a sweet reminder of why we were here in the first place.

After that, things calmed down, but there was a noticeable difference in the room. People seemed hesitant to continue with their stories, their reflections, the usual traditions.

It was like the air had been sucked out of the space, and everyone was holding their breath. The kids continued to play, oblivious to the drama, but I could feel the strain in the adults, the unspoken words hanging like smoke.

But then, something unexpected happened. Briar stood up, her posture more confident than I'd ever seen it. She looked around at all of us, her eyes bright with unshed tears but her expression determined.

"I'm grateful for the opportunity to be here, for the family that's embraced me and the ones who have come back into my life," she said. "And I'm grateful for my parents, both of them—because it takes a village, right?"

The room seemed to exhale collectively. The tension melted into a murmur of agreement, a couple of people nodding and offering small smiles. It was like Briar had broken the dam and let the water rush out, carrying away the bitterness that had threatened to turn the evening sour. Bishop nodded in what looked like reluctant approval, and Dwayne's jaw unclenched. For a moment, we were just family again.

We dug into our food, the turkey moist and flavorful, the mashed potatoes creamy, and the stuffing rich with herbs and sausage. Ocean's giggles rang out as Joe fed her tiny bites of cranberry sauce, her eyes lighting up with each new taste.

The kids ran in and out of the room, their laughter weaving through the conversations, and I watched them with a soft smile. Ocean's chubby cheeks and bright eyes were a balm to the soul, a reminder that life was still good, despite everything.

As the night wore on, I watched Dwayne and Bishop share a couple of polite nods and murmurs. It wasn't an apology or a handshake, but it was something.

Briar sat with her parents, a hint of peace settling in her expression as she watched the younger kids play. I couldn't help but feel a pang of sympathy for her; being caught between two worlds was never easy.

Joe leaned down to whisper in my ear, his voice playful. "Think they'll actually hug it out by dessert?" His grin was cheeky, and I rolled my eyes, but I smiled despite myself. The night had been unpredictable, but it had been real, and sometimes that was all that mattered.

"Only if Beyoncé keeps her hand on their shoulders," I replied, watching as she floated from group to group, her presence a reassuring balm.

Ocean reached out for my hand, her small fingers curling around my thumb, and I squeezed them gently. "I'm grateful for you, little one," I whispered.

Her giggle was the only answer I needed. It was Thanksgiving, after all—family, forgiveness, and everything in between.