Not This Time

Nina: November 26, 2009

     "This is a bad idea," I groaned, glancing out at the old houses as I passed them.
     Matt shook his head, but didn't look at me when he spoke. "Nonsense, I'm sure they'll be thrilled to see you."
     "Wanna bet?" I mumbled, turning onto the street and slowing down so I could watch for the house. This, however, was a show for Matt. I didn't need to watch for it. I knew it was looming just three houses in from the main street; I just didn't want to get there any sooner than I had to. The driveway was filled with cars, indicating a full house. Man, this was going to suck. I pulled up to the curb and put the car in park. I wasn't sure I could do this. Matt looked out at the house and then back at me.
     "Nina, it's gonna be okay," he assured me. Well, he tried. I didn't believe him. He'd never met my mother. I turned to look at him, raising an eyebrow.
     "I'm going to advise you to reserve the right to change your mind now," I told him solemn look, "Because once we get up there and knock on that door," I paused and took a deep breath, dreading the thought already, "there's no turning back." I let my gaze drift away to the radio and brooded some more. I frowned deeper and whined, "Do I have to do this?"
     "Yes," he replied adamantly.
     "You're a terrible friend," I grumbled as I turned the car off.
     Matt, very fakely, gaped at me. "You know I'm only thinking of you!"
     "Sure," I sighed sarcastically, opening my car door and lumbering out of my seat. This was the last thing I wanted to be doing. I closed my car door and looked at the house over the top of my car. It really looked like nothing had changed. One of the panes in the upstairs window was still broken from the night I'd snuck out of my room to meet the boy I wasn't supposed to be seeing. I was honestly surprised my father hadn't fixed it after all this time.
     I glanced over at the house next door, vaguely wondering if the Wriddleys still lived there. Not that it mattered, of course. I locked the car and frowned once more at Matt as he motioned for me to lead the way. I started up the driveway, but the closer we got to the door, the more Matt had to push.
     It was him who knocked. We both knew I wasn't going to. I could hear muffled voices calling out to one another, but after a brief moment, they were gone. For a split second, I had the unmistakable urge to run, to get back in the car and drive back to the airport before they saw me here.
     The door opened to reveal an older woman a little shorter than myself. Her auburn hair had been spiraled for the holiday and hung just above the yellow cooking apron she wore over her purple dress. Matt nudged my arm and I did my best to smile, but it really was a struggle.
     "Nina," Maribelle chirped with obviously forced enthusiasm, "It's nice to finally see you again." My fake smile didn't falter. I'd expected this. Despite the kind words, it was clear that they didn't represent her feelings.
     I looked over at Matt as if to say 'I told you so' and shrugged at Maribelle. "Surprise," I said, "Happy Thanksgiving."
     Maribelle nodded a little at the sentiment and then glanced over at Matt with a fading smile. She nodded to him, but asked me, "Is this your boyfriend?"
     Uh oh. Church Voice.
     I fought the eye roll with all my strength and shook my head. "No, actually," I sighed, maybe getting a little defensive, "He's just a friend. His name is Matt." I turned to him and motioned to Maribelle. "Matt, this is my mother, Maribelle Artelle."
     "Matt Norvil," Matt offered. Before I could tell him not to bother, Matt held his hand out to Maribelle. She glanced at his hand, but didn't reach to shake it. Other than the smile she insisted on keeping up, Maribelle appeared rather unamused by the entire situation.
     She tilted her head a little. "Matt, why aren't you spending time with your family on Thanksgiving?" she asked in her Church Voice. I frowned slightly, but Matt had a very clever answer.
     "Well I am, sort of," he responded without hesitation, "Nina's the closest thing I've got to family in these times." I smirked a little, intrigued. What could Maribelle say to that? I watched her unamused smile finally fall a little. She frowned at me and then, as if to recover, pasted the smile on her face again.
     "Well in any case, it's nice to meet you, Matt," lied Maribelle's Church Voice, "Come on in, both of you."
     Maribelle opened the door wider to allow us through. I hesitated a second more before stepping into the house of my childhood. Matt followed me in with a gracious smile at Maribelle as she closed the door behind us.
     "The men and your cousin Lola are in the living room watching the game," Maribelle sighed with a roll of her eyes, "The rest of the women are in the kitchen helping me." She frowned over her shoulder at me before stalking off to the kitchen once more. Matt shoved his hands in his pockets, smiled at me, and ambled into the living room. He looked more at home than I felt.
     I paced small circles in the entry hall, looking around at the minor changes that had taken place. The wallpaper was old and faded now. From what I could see of the living room, the piano where my father used to give me lessons was no longer sitting across from the front windows as it once had. Now, instead, there was a bookcase filled with knick-knacks, pictures, and maybe the odd book.
     That very bookcase used to stand next to the dining room table so that all my homeschooling materials would be right where I needed them at all times. I frowned over at the dining room table, remembering hours upon hours of schoolwork that Maribelle had insisted I do. Perhaps that's why middle school had been such a breeze when my father finally convinced her to let me go to a public school.
     I closed my eyes and turned away before other memories I didn't want to think about came rising to the surface. I rocked on my heels, trying to summon the strength to join the people I was related to by blood in the living room; there was no way I was going into the kitchen. Tentatively, I stepped towards the living room and peeked through the door.
     My father, Gordon, sat between his brothers, Gregory and Terry, on the couch. Terry's sons were sitting wherever was left, Wesley on the couch arm nearest his dad, and Moses criss-cross on the floor in front of the couch. Lola, my aunt Joy's adopted daughter, sat with her legs sprawled in front of her not far from Moses. Matt stood against the wall, watching the TV with his hands in his pockets. Swallowing back my butterflies, I stepped into the room. I glanced at the TV and rolled my eyes with a smirk. Football, I should have known.
     "Nina!" my father exclaimed with a smile. I gave him a tight-lipped smile in response as everyone's eyes fell on me. Gordon grinned and tossed the football in his hands my way. I caught it with ease. When I was young, my father had tried to teach me how to play the game out in the backyard, but back then I'd been too excited about playing outside to pay attention to the techniques. To this day, I knew how to play, but some of the rules still eluded me.
     "Who's playing?" I asked as Gordon got up from his seat.
     "Cowboys against the Raiders," he replied, pulling me into an awkward side-hug. I brought an arm up to return the hug before tossing his football back to him so that he could return to his spot. I didn't sit. Instead, I glanced at Matt and wrapped my arms around myself. Everyone was too involved in the game to socialize, for which I was grateful.
     "Y'all wash up," Maribelle's voice called from the kitchen, "The food's almost ready." I unintentionally cringed at the minor drawl in Maribelle's voice. Nobody else even seemed to notice that she had spoken at all. I made my way towards the kitchen and stopped in the doorway. The warm air that greeted me was tangled with a plethora of different smells as well as a chorus of clanging pots, clinking dishes, and busy chatter floating between the women.
     I didn't try to step in. From the doorway, she could see Uncle Terry's wife, Wendy, and Maribelle's sister, Joy. Leslie, my only older cousin, stepped into the kitchen and grabbed some plates to set on the table. Maribelle pulled the turkey out of the oven and looked up at me.
     "Why don't you help Leslie set the table, Nina," Maribelle suggested, setting the bird on the counter. I nodded and stepped into the kitchen, navigating around my aunts toward the silverware drawer. I took drawer out of the cabinet and carried it with me into the dining room as I'd always done as a child. At first, I didn't notice that there were only eleven place settings, but when I did, I pulled Leslie aside.
     "We're missing a place setting," I told her.
     Leslie stared at the table and then shook her head, looking at me. "Aunt Maribelle told me eleven."
     "Did she?" I scoffed. I wasn't even surprised. I nodded and sighed, "Don't worry about it, I'll grab it. Would you finish setting the silverware?" Leslie nodded, took the silverware drawer from my hands, and went to work as I turned away. It was possible that Maribelle had simply forgotten that I'd brought someone with me, but deep down I knew that probably wasn't the case. Nevertheless, I held my tongue as I returned to the kitchen. I could feel Maribelle's eyes on me as I opened the cabinet for another plate.
     "What are you doing?" asked Maribelle's Church Voice. The happy feeling in the air fell away when she said this. Even my aunts knew what that tone meant. Ignoring the tension, I turned back to her.
     "Leslie set eleven places," I said with a shrug, "There are twelve people here. I'm grabbing an extra plate." Maribelle made a show of counting on her fingers and then shook her head.
     "No," replied the Church Voice, "I'm pretty sure there are only eleven of us in this family."
I took a step closer to her in disbelief. "So is this you refusing to feed Matt?" I hissed. That was low even for her.
     "That's not what I said," she responded, still in Church Voice, "He's welcome to eat, but he can sit in here or the living room." At first I was astounded that she would even suggest that, but then I decided not to bother.
     I stared at her for a second, shaking my head. "Alright, Maribelle," I sighed, "Then you can have ten place settings at the table and I'll eat in the living room with my friend."
Even as I was saying it, I could see Maribelle's already fake smile turning into something more angry. I looked first at Aunt Wendy, and then at Aunt Joy. Neither woman seemed to notice my gaze, or they were ignoring it.
     "You'll sit with your family, Nina," she stated in her Church Voice. She turned back to the turkey and added in more of a mumble, "Sit with your friend, honestly, what would your grandfather say?"
     That did it. I set the plate down on the counter and glared at her. "It doesn't matter what Granpa would say, Maribelle!" I snapped, "He's dead!" Everyone stared at me in surprise, Maribelle most of all. I shook my head and went on, "You can stop pining for his approval now, he's not around to give it! I don't even know why you want it so badly, he was mean as hell!"
     "You do not speak about your grandfather that way!" Maribelle barked back, her Church Voice gone, "Father was a wonderful man and respected reverend! I might have even had a great relationship with him if you hadn't come along!"
     "Maribelle!" Gordon's voice shouted. We all turned toward the doorway to the living room. None of the women in the kitchen had noticed when he appeared in the doorway to listen, but there he was.
     "How am I responsible for your wrong decisions, Maribelle?" I spat, looking back at her with disdain, "I wasn't even born yet!"
     "I'm getting out of this," Aunt Joy announced, throwing her hands up and walking between Maribelle and me toward the living room. Aunt Wendy agreed and followed her eagerly, both of them shuffling around Gordon as he stepped into the kitchen.
     Maribelle picked up the turkey and shoved past me on her way to the dining room to put it on the table. I followed her without hesitation, too angry to let it go.
     "You've punished me for that my entire life," I continued when we got into the dining room, "Y'know when I finally went to a public school, the kids down the street thought I'd transferred from another city! They didn't know this house had a kid in it! Why wasn't I allowed to play outside Maribelle?"
     "Like I could trust you," she sneered, setting the turkey on the table and picking up the silverware drawer Leslie had left on the table, "From an early age, you had an interest in boys."
     "Maybe because Dad was the only male I really knew and he was actually nice to me!" I interjected.
     She raised her voice to speak over me. "I knew it would only get worse as you got older. Then you had the audacity to bring that boy home for Thanksgiving! A family holiday!" Gordon tried to get a word in, but Maribelle ignored him. She dropped the drawer on the nearby breakfast bar and motioned to the living room, "Look at you now! Nothing has changed!"
     "Yeah, I remember that too! You threw a plate at my head!" I said. I looked over at where the plate had broken against the wall all those years ago. There was still a small tear in the wallpaper. Just the sight of that tear brought back the sound of porcelain shattering against the wall and then scattering across the floor.
     Maribelle frowned at my mention of that and looked away. If I hadn't known better, I'd have said she looked a little ashamed. She looked over at Gordon, who was now leaning on the breakfast bar, and held her hands out in an expectant manner.
     "A little help?" she scoffed.
     Gordon shrugged, shaking his head. "What good am I? You don't listen to me!" he retorted. Maribelle glared at him and he pushed off the bar with a frown. "How about we put our differences aside for the holiday and try to get along," he suggested.
     "I was trying, but then she decided to alienate my friend," I answered, crossing my arms, "She's the one being difficult."
     "I'm sick of you disrespecting me, young lady!" Maribelle snapped, barely letting me finish my sentence.
     "I'm sick of you disrespecting me!" I echoed, scowling at her, "I have no reason to apologize for my behavior until you apologize for yours!"
     "My behavior?" Maribelle scoffed, "Ha! If your grandfather-"
     I cut her off, shouting, "This is not about Granpa! This is not about God! This is about you, and your fucked up decisions! Until you sort out your shit, leave me out of it!"
     Maribelle stared at me, shocked that I would dare curse at her. Gordon didn't look that surprised, nor did he try to scold me. In fact, nobody said a word for a good thirty seconds. I glanced toward the living room, where the game had long ago been muted and everyone was silently listening to our very public argument. Matt stood by the living room doorway with his hands still in his pockets, watching the scene but not interfering.
     "Now that I've said my piece," I sighed, "I'm gonna go."
     "Now, Nina," Gordon started to protest.
     I interrupted him. "I will apologize to you," I said to him, "for leaving again, but I cannot stay here."
     Gordon sighed in defeat and stepped over to give me a hug. He whispered an apology in my ear and let me go. "There's nothing I can say to change your mind?" he offered with a shrug.
     I shook my head. "Nothing you can say," I answered, glancing from him to Maribelle. She wouldn't look at me. She knew I was right. I picked up the one excess plate on the table and held it out to her. She looked at it and then up at me with an expression I couldn't identify. "For old time's sake," I muttered.
     As soon as Maribelle took the plate, I turned away and started toward the door. When I glanced at Matt, he looked like he wanted to say something, but I shook my head before he could. I didn't want to hear it.
     "Bye," I muttered to the people in the living room. I got a few sheepish waves in response before turning back to face my parents. "See ya, Dad," I said. He nodded and waved, but didn't speak. I didn't give Maribelle another glance before turning and walking out the door. Once and for all, that was the end of that.