A Kyrie Carter Thanksgiving

Untitled Part 1

Chapter 1

After work on Thanksgiving Eve, I parked in the alley behind my house, turned off the ignition, and sat staring at the steering wheel in the gathering twilight. Despite the chill that had started creeping in as soon as the heat shut off, I yanked off my leather driving gloves and laid them in my lap before snatching the letter from the seat next to me and reading it for the fifth time since Maureen had handed it to me with tears in her eyes only an hour before. I stared at the words on the page until they became nothing more than a jumble of letters that made no sense. Not that the situation made much sense anyway.

The cold had begun to make my nose and cheeks tingle, and my fingers were beginning to stiffen as they held the crisp, white paper in a death grip. The blue-green numbers glowing on the radio display told me I'd been sitting there for almost ten minutes. Well, I thought. There's no use sitting out here in 20-degree weather when I can just as easily wallow in self-pity in the warmth of my living room. I folded up the letter neatly before jamming it and my gloves unceremoniously into my tote bag and getting out of the car.

A blast of frigid wind slammed into me as I kicked the car door shut and hurried, head down and coat collar up, towards my back door. My thick wool pants and layered sweaters did little to hold at bay the unusually cold late-November air. By the time I reached the house, my fingers were so chilled that I fumbled the keys as I struggled to unlock the door.

Once inside, I dumped my purse and my tote bag on the table and trudged to the living room where I stopped to adjust the thermostat before letting myself drop into the worn red-and-black plaid recliner that had belonged to my dad. I sat there for several minutes, still huddled in my coat, staring unseeingly at the twilit window and inhaling the trace remnants of Wild Country cologne that lingered deep in the upholstery. My nose began to sting with unshed tears as I wished Daddy and Mom were still alive. Daddy wasn't sentimental, and he certainly wouldn't have approved of the way I was sitting here sulking, but right now, I would have given anything for his solid strength and the words of wisdom that seemed to come so easily from his mouth. Mom would have brewed me some kind of calming tea from her herb garden and fed me slice after slice of banana bread loaded with walnuts and chocolate chips while I told her my troubles.

For a brief moment, I closed my eyes and smiled, almost able to smell the soothing aroma of chamomile and mint and hear the deep timbre of my father's voice as he assured me that everything would work out as it was meant to if I'd just keep my chin up and have faith. Drawing some strength from my imagined conversation with my parents, I sighed and sat up straighter in the chair. While I couldn't just brush off the news that my full-time job would be eliminated at the end of the month, I reminded myself that I would still have a little bit of an income writing freelance articles for the local paper; it wasn't much, but at least it was some money coming in, and I could always inquire about a steadier job there. Also, besides my checking account, I had a decent amount in savings, thanks to what I had inherited from my parents. My rent was fairly low compared to what a lot of my friends were paying, and my used-but-dependable car was paid off. Still, I didn't like the idea of having to dip into that savings to live off of, especially if I couldn't find another full-time job right away. My mind drifted to the conversations I'd had with unemployed friends and relatives about how difficult it was to find decent jobs in the present economy, and I immediately began worrying again. Sighing, I gave myself a mental shake. You should be counting your blessings instead of feeling sorry for yourself, I mentally chided. Thanksgiving is two days away; be grateful for what you have.

"Thanksgiving," I muttered, letting my breath out in a huff, quickly getting up out of the chair and throwing my coat off. I had almost forgotten that I was leaving in the morning to spend Thanksgiving with Spook and his parents. I had promised to bring a pumpkin roll and a red velvet cake roll, which meant I should be baking instead of sitting around feeling sorry for myself. I trudged out to the kitchen, hastily cleared the table off, and began gathering the ingredients to begin baking.