The Last Virgin Standing

Chapter 26: More Stubborn Than a Democrat and Brighter Than a Flamingo

Dedicated to ADaniel_SapporeSiaw for being a bud. 

---

Chapter 26: More Stubborn Than a Democrat and Brighter Than a Flamingo

"Oh, that reminds me, we were invited to my cousin's house for Thanksgiving dinner. Do you want to go?" Dad mentioned casually, tossing an empty milk container into the recycling bin.

I looked up from my history book. "We were? Which cousin?"

"Joanna. Do you remember her?"

I shook my head. "No idea."

"She's the one with the mohawk"—he made a gesture with his hands that suggested the height of her hairdo—"and that weird bird tattoo on her arm. I don't know if she still has the Mohawk, but the tattoo's definitely still there."

The image of her hot pink mohawk dawned on me and I awed in realization. "Oh! How is she?"

He shrugged. "You can ask her if we go."

I was still unsure if I wanted to spend my Thanksgiving with actual family. It would be new. "How old is she?"

He shrugged again. "Maybe in her late twenties or early thirties?" he estimated. "She's married now."

"Really? She's married?"

I let that sink in. Joanna never seemed like the type of person to settle down. But then again, maybe it was the mohawk that persuaded me. I never really knew her, just her outspoken appearance.

"Mhm. Little Jo's all grown up," Dad reminisced. I wasn't sure what about because he told me he wasn't particularly close to any of his cousins, but there was a thin glaze over his eyes that suggested he was remembering a childhood memory.

"So, you want to go?"

"We don't have to," he answered evasively.

"We can go, Dad."

"Really?" The laugh lines around his mouth had aged, but they were heartwarming to see nonetheless.

"Really. You're the adult here."

We shared a laugh. "I suppose I am...I just don't want you to be uncomfortable. You barely know these people. I guess that's my fault. I should've taken you to visit more."

"Stop blaming yourself. I didn't want to visit family. They obviously didn't care about us either, because until now, we haven't heard from them."

"Charlotte..."

"It's true!"

"I'm just happy they're reaching out."

I nodded, unsure of what to say next. "Well," I started awkwardly, "I'm going to go get ready. What time are we leaving?"

"Let's see. It'll take an hour or so to get there and dinner starts at six, so maybe four-thirty?"

"Sounds good, Dad."

The beam on his face was worth all the suffering I'd have to endure in the next twenty-four hours.

***

Joanna's was not at all what I expected it to be. I thought there would be dozens of garden gnomes littering the flowerbed, but there wasn't a single one in sight. Instead of a wild jungle of tall grass and plastic flamingos (she was obsessed with them back then), I saw a thin blanket of snow draped over what looked like a well-taken care of lawn. It was actually ordinary.

There were already cars lined up in the driveway and beside the curb. Apparently it's customary to arrive earlier. We were ahead of schedule and arrived forty-five minutes before dinner despite the traffic. Dad could weave his way through a highway of cars. I jokingly proposed that he should've been a cab driver, and then he dove into a story of how he wanted to be a "cabbie" to meet the rich, the famous, and the beautiful. His younger self was a dreamer. Sometimes I wished that I could've met him in his tender years. I bet he succumbed to all kinds of peer pressure with the snap of a finger. That sounded wrong, but it was true. The man's a pushover.