Thank goodness all of that was behind me.
As we all dug into the food, I stared at the memorabilia on the table, anxious to see what my friends had brought.
I rose. "If I can have your attention" I tried banging on my plastic cup with a fork, but it just didn't have the right effect.
Chad snickered. "Good one, Gabby."
I ignored him and continued with the eloquent speech I'd planned. "I just want to say thank you for coming over today. Each of you is very special to me, and without you, my world would be lonely and boring."
"Uh ... I hate to say it Gabby, but without us, your world would be nonexistent," Parker said. He looked around the table. "Who here has saved Gabby's life at one time or another?"
Riley, Parker, Sierra, Chad, and Mrs. Mystery all raised their hands.
I cleared my throat, undeterred. "I just wanted to thank you all for being my friends, in the good times and bad. You all mean the world to me. It's much easier going through life knowing I have people like you to fall back on"
My cheeks flushed at the admission. "So, with all of that sappiness out of the way and without further ado, would everyone share what you brought over on this lovely Thanksgiving afternoon? And I'm warning you: if no one wants to talk, I'm going to have to begin a rousing rendition of `Turkey in the Straw.' I'm sure no one really wants to hear that"
"Poor turkey," Sierra muttered.
I ignored her and started with my textbook.
Sierra went next. She brought a newspaper article detailing her account of crab liberation. She grinned with pride when telling the story, while Parker and Charlie scowled. Her court date was in two weeks. We'd all see if she was still grinning then.
Parker said he brought Charlie. Charlie blushed, and I felt like puking over how happy they were. But it was a good kind of puking. Like a they'reso-happy-they-make-me-sick kind of puke.
Charlie brought a piece of mail with her new address. "This move here was probably the best thing I've ever done" Another smile exchanged between her and Parker.
The phone rang as we were going through the items. I snatched up the receiver, hoping someone wasn't calling about a crime scene. Not today. Today I wanted to honor my friends, the people who made my life a little less lonely and a whole lot more fun.
"Is this Gabby St. Claire?"
"Speaking." I held my breath, waiting to hear tears or mourning. Waiting to get the job request.
"This is Richard Spruce's son"
I sucked in a quick breath. "Hi"
"Thanks for the packet you sent me. I almost didn't go through it, but my wife wanted me to. I found the letters that I never opened"
I leaned on the kitchen counter, immediately setting my hand into the pool of grease left there by who knows what. "So you realize that your father actually did care about you" I grabbed a dish towel and rubbed my fingers in it.
"Thanks to you, yes"
I smiled. "You're welcome"
"I'm sorry I didn't make it to his wake."
"I'm just glad you called today."
I hung up, beaming.
Bill McCormick brought an award he'd received for his talk show.
Mrs. Mystery brought a copy of her latest book. What do you know? I did recognize her pen name.
Amy held up a dog bone. I guess she was really thankful for her new Lhasa apso.
Chad brought a Trauma Care business card that listed both of our names. I glanced at him and blushed when he smiled at me.
Riley brought a picture of the two of us together. I looked at him and blushed again.
Yes indeed, I did have a lot to be thankful for.
CHRISTY BARRITT is an author, freelance writer, and speaker who lives in Virginia. She's married to her Prince Charming, a man who thinks she's hilarious-but only when she's not trying to be. Christy's a self-proclaimed klutz, an avid music lover who's known for spontaneously bursting into song, and a road-trip aficionado. She's won only one contest in her lifeand her prize was kissing a pig. Needless to say, she doesn't enter contests anymore. Her current claim to fame is showing off her mother, who looks just like Barbara Bush.
When she's not working or spending time with her family, she enjoys singing, playing the guitar, and exploring small, unsuspecting towns where people have no idea how accident prone she is.
E-mail Christy at: [email protected].
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