by J. Preston
“Well, let’s not stand outside. You all must be so tired after the journey. I’m sure you’d like to freshen up before dinner,” Mrs. Kennedy interjects. “Everything should be ready in a couple of hours. The turkey has been in the oven for the better part of the day, so hopefully it should all turn out delicious.” Carter and Reagan exchange a glance and burst out laughing. “Now, now,” Mrs. Kennedy puts her hands on her hips, “I remembered to defrost it this year. Stop laughing and get inside.”
We all grab our bags and follow her inside where we're swiftly shown our rooms. I contemplate having a nap but decide against it and just shower quickly, then change. I decide on black jeans, a white shirt, and a skinny black tie, hoping that I will not be under or overdressed.
When I get back downstairs, Mrs. Kennedy is running around the kitchen like crazy, hopping over Jake, who’s asleep in the middle of the room.
“Is there anything I can help you with?” I ask.
“Oh God. Yes, please!” She looks up at me flustered, her eyes darting from one pot to another, calculating. “I don’t know why every single year I decide it’ll be a great idea to cook Thanksgiving dinner all by myself…” She shakes her head. “Don’t tell anyone, but I’m a terrible cook. I just exploded the yams!” She points at the stove. There’s a glass pan with orange mush all over it; some of it got on the kitchen wall as well.
“How did that happen?” I ask, grabbing the pan and putting it next to the sink.
“I took the pan out of the oven and put it on the stove. I didn’t realize the burner was on!” She drops her hands, resignation evident.
“Let’s make….rustic, crushed sweet potatoes out of it,” I say, rolling my sleeves up. “Did you roast any garlic and do you have pecans?” Mrs. Kennedy nods, then runs off, coming back with the items I requested. We mash the sweet potatoes with a little butter and garlic, then sprinkle the crushed pecans on top. “There,” I say, looking at our creation.
“Amazing!” she exclaims, giving me a hug. “You saved Thanksgiving!”
“It was nothing.” I dismiss my limited cooking skills.
“I’ll let you in on a secret…Aunt Berta made her famous cherry pie.” She looks at me expectantly.
“Delicious?” I say.
“If you want to lose your teeth. She never figured out which cans of cherries are the pitted ones.” She smiles at me, taking the turkey out of the oven and setting it to rest on the counter. “Now, you just rest here until it’s carving time,” she speaks softly to the bird, I hope. “So Aiden.” She turns on me, and I have a feeling I’m about to be interrogated. “You and Jenny, have you been dating long?”
“What? No! We’re just friends!” I loudly stumble through excuses, raking my hand through my hair. But Mrs. Kennedy just looks at me like she knows very well that that’s exactly what they are, excuses.
“Hi.” I hear a timid voice from behind me, and the blood drains from my face.
“Hi, Jenny. Come to help? Aiden already saved the day in the kitchen, but you could help me with the table. I just want to make sure that everything is perfect.” Mrs. Kennedy smiles. I slowly turn around to see kitten standing next to the kitchen table, her fists clenched and her eyes narrowed in my direction.
“I’d love to help out.” Jenny nods, her features soften as she directs her gaze at Carter’s mom. Time stops, and I stare at Jenny for what seems like a lifetime, not daring to blink for the fear of her disappearing. She looks beautiful. She’s wearing a black dress with little bows on the sleeves, her hair cascading down her shoulders in waves, and the lip gloss she put on drawing my eyes to her already plump and inviting lips. I lick my own and, subconsciously, take a step forward. Her lips part a little, a blush forming on her cheeks. Involuntarily, I take another small step.
“Aiden, would you please grab Carter and everyone else? Dinner should be ready in 20 minutes,” Mrs. Kennedy interrupts me. I shake my head and tear my gaze away from Jenny.
“Sure, no problem,” I say hoarsely, trying hard not to look in the direction of the world’s biggest seductress. I mean, seriously, did she study under Mata Hari? What powers does she possess to render me incapable of a single thought that isn’t about her? She’s a witch. That must be it.
I walk out of the kitchen and towards our rooms, trying to concentrate on anything other than what my body is currently wanting me to do, which is turn around, go back, grab kitten’s hand and drag her into my bedroom for some serious getting to know you time. You know, the one that involves slowly undressing her and kissing every single inch of her body. That one.
I round the corner and stop, stunned. What unfolds in front of my eyes is Instagram worthy, if you’re into that sort of thing…
Jason is flat against the wall. His eyes are enormous and focused on the fork in Carter’s hand, which is dangerously close to Jason’s face.
“I will gouge your eyeball out with this fork if you so much as even smile in her direction,” Carter growls. “Rey is off limits. You understand me, horn dog?”
“What’s going on?” I ask slowly, approaching my two best friends.
“Just having a little best friend-to-best friend chat with Jason,” Carter replies, not taking his narrowed eyes off of Jason.
“Dude,” Jason starts. “Get that fork away from my face!”
I walk over to the both of them and grab Carter’s forked wrist. “What’s going on?” I repeat, pulling the fork out of Kennedy’s hand.
“Jason was looking at Rey like she’s edible,” Carter grumbles. I look from him to Jason.
“Just looking, man. Couldn’t help it. Your sister is pretty!” Carter starts struggling away from my grip and charging towards Jason.
“You take that back!” he screams as I hold him tighter.
“Wow, double standards if I’ve ever seen them…” I mutter under my breath. They both still then turn to look at me.
“What do you mean?” Jason asks, cocking his head to the side.
“Well, for starters, this.” I exhale, pointing at Carter. “Is exactly how you react when anyone even looks in Jenny’s direction.”
“So?” Jason grumbles.
“So try to understand where Carter is coming from,” I continue.
“And you!” I point at my other traitorous best friend. “Trying to blind Jason just because he looked at Reagan while you went behind his back and kissed my kitten,” I spit out, remembering the rage I felt when I witnessed that event.
“You did what?” Jason screeches. And suddenly I find myself dropping Carter and pushing Jason away and back against the wall.
“What are you guys doing? Is it some sort of boy on boy action? I could be into that.” I hear a female voice from behind me. When I turn my head, Reagan is playfully looking at the three of us.
“Jason just found out that I kissed grasshopper this one time I wanted Aiden to realize he’s in love with her,” Carter stage-whispers.
“Ooooh,” Reagan replies in an equally staged whisper. “Somebody call Kerry Washington cause we’ve got ourselves a scandal!” I blink a couple of times at her, then burst into laughter.
“Did you see that?” Jason mumbles at me, relaxing. I nod, not sure what he's referring to. I saw Carter Kennedy’s little clone. “She’s just…awesome,” he says, and I laugh, realising that Jason might just have a little crush on the female version of Carter.
“Oh please. Like I need your approval.” Reagan scoffs, rolling her eyes and flipping him the bird. He swoons. He literally swoons in my arms, unused to anyone rejecting him. Ever.
“Anywaaaaay.” I let go of Jason. “Your mum says Thanksgiving dinner is ready,” I say and start shuffling everyone into the general direction of where the delicious food aromas are coming from.
As we near the grand dining room, a middle-aged man comes out from around the corner and stops next to us, smiling. He’s wearing a waistcoat, a dark velvet smoking jacket, and painfully red corduroy trousers with peacocks embroidered on them. He’s got
a pair of thickly framed glasses on, and an unlit pipe in his mouth, his thick, salt and pepper hair combed to the side. On his feet are bunny slippers…
“Daddy.” Reagan smiles and hugs his side. “These are Carter’s friends from college.” She points in our direction.
“Nice to meet you all,” he says in a deep voice and smiles, then looks into the distance, sniffing. “The food doesn’t smell too bad this year. I wonder if it’s edible this time…” he muses. “Have you seen Bertie?”
We shake our heads and follow him to where dinner is being served. A thin, elderly woman sits in one of the chairs; her hands folded in her lap pristinely; her old, wrinkled face hidden behind large, seventies style glasses. And I swear I see a smirk on her face before she notices us walk in.
“Bertie!” Mr. Kennedy booms, and the poor, old woman jumps in her seat a little, as if startled.
“That’s our Great Aunt Berta,” Carter says. “Jason, you go sit next to her. She likes them pretty boys.” Jason rolls his eyes but starts walking towards the elderly woman. At his approach, her smirk turns into a larger one, and her hands move a tiny bit like she’s rubbing them together. She’s probably cold, like most elderly people. I look around for a blanket to hand to her.
“Aiden!” Jenny runs into the dining room, skidding to a stop. “Oh, hello.” She blushes and curtsies to Mr. Kennedy. She fucking curtsies, and I have to hold on to the chair I’m standing next to to stop myself from running to her and scooping her into my arms and devouring her blushing face right then and there.
“I already paid them,” Great Aunt Berta says, looking towards Jenny. “Why? Did the bookie say I still owe him?”
“Bertie can’t hear well,” Mr. Kennedy explains. Everyone nods in understanding, but my eyes, which are still on Bertie, notice the smirk on her face grow into a half smile. “She probably misunderstood you. What’s the matter, darling?”
“Mrs. Kennedy has asked if Aiden could help in the kitchen, it seems…” She looks down at her hands. “It seems that the bird is missing.”
“Who is pissing?” Bertie says loudly. “Is it Carter? That boy really needs to be potty trained.” We stand in stunned silence for a few seconds before Jenny bursts out laughing, and everyone follows suit. Bertie, once again, has a satisfied look on her face, like she knows exactly what she just “misunderstood.”
“Missing!” Carter screams at Great Aunt Berta. “The bird is M-I-S-S-I-N-G!”
“You’re kissing poultry?” Aunt Berta exclaims, then settles down. “Well…to each their own.”
“What bird?” Mr. Kennedy says, wiping away the tears from under his glasses.
“The turkey! It’s gone.” Jenny says somberly, then grabs my hand and pulls me towards the kitchen.
“Aiden, thank God!” Mrs. Kennedy exclaims upon our entrance. “Where did I put the turkey? I swear I took it out of the oven!”
“What’s going on, darling?” Mr. Kennedy walks into the kitchen, slipping on something on the floor and nearly losing his balance.
“Wilson,” Mrs. Kennedy says, trying to hold it together. “I tried. I really did.” Her eyes are brimming with tears. “I don’t know how one could lose a giant turkey, but I did.” The corners of her mouth turn down, and her bottom lip starts to tremble. In a few short strides, Mr. Kennedy is by her side, embracing her.
“It’s all right,” he soothes.
“It was there.” She sniffles, pointing at the empty casserole dish on the counter. Something glistening catches my eye. I walk over to the countertop and notice the slithering trail of oily droplets. I follow it to the spot where, a few seconds ago, Mr. Kennedy slipped. Then to the corner of the kitchen, right where the pantry door is. I gently push it inward onto shelves full of jars…and Jake.
Jake is happily sleeping next to a half-eaten turkey carcass. Shit.
“What’s in there?” Jenny says and slips under my arm to stand next to me. She gasps and covers her mouth with her hand. “Mrs. Kennedy… That ham you said you made ‘just in case’? Let’s just serve that, okay?” she says, her hands trembling.
“What? Why?” Mrs. Kennedy blinks at us and takes a step away from Mr. Kennedy’s arms and towards Jenny and me and the pristine example of gluttony that is my dog. Jenny’s whole body screams ‘NO’, so I intervene.
“Before you have a look, we found the bird, or what’s left of it. You see, Jake—” Mrs. Kennedy pushes past me with the strength of ten women and barges into the pantry. I get myself ready for screams and Jake being thrown out of the house for misbehaving. Instead, I hear cooing.
“Oh, you poor baby, did you eat too much? Is your tummy hurting now?” I turn, astounded, only to see Mrs. Kennedy on all fours rubbing Jake's belly in circular motion as he whimpers.
Jenny and I look at each other, trying to hold back the laughter.
“I’ll take the ham through to the dining room then,” Jenny says and motions for me to follow. We quickly transport all the food to the table, Mr. and Mrs. Kennedy joining us along the way.
When we all finally sit down and start eating, I’m exhausted. But, fortunately, I’m sitting right next to Jenny. Not so fortunately, Jason is sitting opposite us. I peer sideways at kitten and grab her hand under the table, squeezing it. “Thanks for helping out with the dinner,” I say quietly. She squeezes my hand back and smiles at me, her body tilted towards mine, inviting. I take the cue and lean over, placing a kiss on her cheek. My lips tingled as I pull away.
A fork drops, cluttering loudly on the plate, and both Jenny and I jump in our seats. I turn to look at Jason and am greeted with his shocked and terrified face. I open my mouth to say something, to try and explain why my lips were fused to his sister’s cheek just a second ago, but he beats me to it and starts speaking first.
“Reagan,” he says very loudly, but with an eerie calmness to his voice. A cold sweat starts to gather at the nape of my neck, and I feel Jenny’s hand squeeze mine tighter. “Please tell me that this hand is yours.” I’m confused. I look at Jenny, who shrugs at me and turns back to Jason.
We all look at Reagan, who’s sitting on Jason’s right side. Her right hand is holding a fork, frozen midair on the way to her mouth. Her left hand is resting on the table. We all turn to Aunt Bertie on Jason’s left. She’s oddly leaning towards Jason, both her hands hidden under the tablecloth and a satisfied grin on her face.
“Not again, Bertie!” Mr. Kennedy exclaims just as Jason shrieks loudly.
22 Cop A Feel
Is it sexy in here or is it just me?
-Jason
Jenny
Thanksgiving dinner was an entertaining affair. No small thanks to Great Aunt Bertie, who not only managed to cop a feel under the table but also, at one point, took her false teeth out and asked an already traumatized Jason to chew her food and feed it back to her like a mama bird would to a baby.
I swear that old lady has caused a lifetime of damage to my poor brother, damage that only expensive therapy will be able to fix.
I giggle, remembering the events and how wonderfully they unfolded throughout the evening. How, in the first instance, I thought the dropped fork was because Jason saw Aiden getting close to me. But, fortunately for me, it was just Aunt Bertie taking advantage of him.
I smile, thinking how Aiden and I burst out laughing, how Aiden’s hand grazed my thigh while he held my hand, how I shivered when he leaned over to whisper in my ear, how his breath tickled my neck. My room’s temperature is going up just thinking about the green-eyed devil that has been occupying my thoughts for the better part of the past few months in both the ‘frenemy’ and the ‘super hot I-wanna-jump-your-bones’ capacity…
I yawn. This is what my whole night has been like, not a freaking wink, just getting hot and bothered over a guy that isn’t even in the same room. At about six in the morning, I give up on sleep and just take a shower, hoping that the warm water will lull me back to sleep. No dice.
I get up from my bed, where I have been daydreamin
g about Aiden all morning, and snatch my phone, scrolling through the photos of last night’s events. I quickly choose the one where Aunt Bertie is licking Jason’s arm and send it to Hayley with a note that I miss her.
I sigh and pull on a large, knitted cardigan over my tank top. I put my messy hair up in a high ponytail and decide to go explore the wonders of the Kennedy’s gardens. There are some distressing topiaries up front, and I’m just itching to find out what’s hiding in their well manicured back garden. The possibilities are endless.
The house is eerily quiet. It’s fairly early, and it seems like everyone else is still asleep.
I slip out through the glass door and look at the exquisite landscape, breathtaking. Have you ever read that book, The Secret Garden? Well, what’s in front of my eyes is exactly what I always imagined the elegant and vibrant garden would look like. It’s mesmerising. I pull out my phone and stick my headphones in. There’s only one song worthy of listening to when one is subjected to such beauty. I press play on Springsteen’s Secret Garden.
Walking down the steps, I listen to the music and take in the abundance of vivid colors, the flowers, the weeping willow on the side surrounded by a sea of delicate white petals. I don’t know the names of the plants that pepper the garden in white, orange, violet, and blue. I didn’t even realize plants could bloom this late in fall. But suddenly, I’m overwhelmed with the want—no—need to learn more, to find out the names of the delicate and beautiful things that surround me.
I walk down the stone pathway, deeper into what I can only call a wonderland, overcome with emotions thanks to the crooning voice and teary music of Bruce. During the next half an hour, I walk around the garden in awe, listening to the same song on repeat and smelling different flowers, touching the delicate petals and the hard bark of the trees. I go back to the weeping willow I saw when I first stepped into the garden and lie down in the sea of white flowers.
I close my eyes and inhale the sweet scent. A touch of it reminds me of Aiden’s smell; the earthy, citrusy fragrance of his body. I’ve recently discovered that Jake’s fur, the spot just behind his ear where Aiden scratches him, smells a little bit like Aiden himself, and now, every opportunity I get, I bury my nose in that crook near Jake’s face. He doesn’t complain, and it’s better than going around sniffing Aiden. If I did that, they’d commit me for sure.