Teenage Dirtbag

Ch. 20

             I talked to my Mom the following day about the phone call I had received from my Dad. She wasn't nearly as thrilled as I was, but I explained to her that he was doing better, had an honest job and she calmed down a bit. After a few day's of coaxing she said it would be fine for him to come and visit.

            With that sticky conversation out of the way we started planning for Thanksgiving. I told her that Marcel said he and his father would come, so we began planning a menu. "I was thinking we could make a ham instead of turkey, try something new," she suggested as we sat at the kitchen table.

            I looked up abruptly, "Mom I hate ham."

            She looked at me, "since when?"

            "Always Mom," I said laughing.

            "Alright then I guess we'll stick with turkey," she named off several other items which I wrote down on our list. "I think that's everything, are we ready to shop?"

            "Yeah I think we are, let's go." The grocery store was a mad house, and since it was only a few day's before Thanksgiving I guess I couldn't blame them. We did manage to find everything on our list though, and when we got home we sat everything out on the counter. We figured out what needed to be put where for the next few days and went straight to cleaning the house.

           

            The morning of Thanksgiving we woke up fairly early to start getting everything ready. It felt like awhile since we'd had a proper Thanksgiving, and I was having a lot of fun setting up all of the food. "What time are they getting here again," she asked as she prepared the turkey.

            "At two I think," I was in the middle of adding ingredients into a bowl for the pie I was going to bake. The turkey and other harder thing's I was leaving to my Mom, but I could bake all day.

            We put the turkey in the oven at noon, hoping it would be done by four at the latest. Once we had everything set up we went to the living room to wait. Turning on the TV my Mom put on the football game and I looked at her, "what? It's what we're supposed to watch!"

            "Fine, Mom," I sighed as I sat back and attempted to understand the game. I watched as the ball was thrown back and fourth, and I was relieved when my phone rang. "It's Dad," I said standing up, "I'll be back in a second." I answered as I ran up the stairs, "hello."

            "Hey sweetie! Happy Thanksgiving," he said cheerfully into the phone.

            "Happy Thanksgiving, Dad. Are you doing anything today?"

            "Just sitting around watching the game. You and your Mom making dinner?"

            "Yeah we are," I said as I sat on my bed, "turkey's already in the oven should be done in a couple hours."