by Claire Adams
“Well, it is, and I’m sure they’ll be happy to see that.”
We were driving back to the Cape for Thanksgiving, which Chloe’s parents were hosting at their summer house.
“I think this is the first time my parents have even been to the Cape when it wasn’t summer,” she said.
“It sure is different, isn’t it?”
And it was. Gone were the lush greens and the warm sun and the throngs of people in their swimsuits. Many of the businesses had shut down for the off-season, and there was a distinct chill in the air. It probably wouldn’t start snowing for another month, but weather in New England was notoriously fickle and late November snow was certainly not unheard of in these parts.
“I talked to Tara,” Chloe said.
“Oh yeah? Are she and Todd still getting along?”
“It sounds like it.”
“Where is it they’re at again?”
“Barbados.”
“Ah, okay. Never been.”
“It’s nice. One of Tara’s favorite places. I’m glad they’re having fun. Though if they were around, they could be here today, too!”
I chuckled. “That would certainly make things a little more interesting. Though I think they’re actually interesting enough as is.”
And they were. It wasn’t just going to be Chloe’s parents at this Thanksgiving; my own mother was going, as well as my father and his family. My family. It was still so strange to think that I had this whole family that I didn’t even really know.
“It’ll be good to see Parker,” Chloe said.
“It will.” I’d gone through with the organ donation, and the procedure itself had been relatively simple. I was under general anesthetic, so of course didn’t remember anything about the actual surgery. I’d been sore after, but the pain certainly wasn’t that bad. I was back to doing everything I normally did after about two weeks. Recovery for Parker took longer, but that was to be expected. He and I had traded texts a few times, and Craig had kept me updated with his progress—Parker would have to be monitored by doctors and take medication for the rest of his life, but so far, so good; his body was not rejecting the kidney.
*****
She was quiet for the rest of the drive, even when I tried to make conversation. I stopped talking and just drove. Thanksgiving had never been a big holiday for me, so it did feel strange now to be heading to what would probably turn out to be a pretty big celebration. The past Thanksgivings of my adult life had always been with friends, not family, because the Thanksgivings of my childhood had been complete disasters. But now Chloe and I were heading to a house full of family.
And it felt good to be in contact with my father, even though our relationship was more like friends than father-son. That was okay, though. There was no way we could ever go back in time and have the sort of dynamic that we might have had if he’d been there my entire life.
*****
“It looks like everyone’s here already,” she said. “I didn’t realize we were that late.”
“I don’t think we are; maybe everyone else was just early.”
I parked the car and turned the key in the ignition. “Hold on a second,” Chloe said, when she saw me reaching for the door handle. “I just ... I just want to sit here for a second.” She relaxed back into the seat and took a few deep breaths. “Tell me everything’s going to be all right.”
I smiled. “It’s going to be okay. If I can go in there knowing my mother, and my father that I just reconnected with are in there, you will be more than fine.” She nodded as I spoke. I reached over and took her hand, gave it a squeeze. “We’re in this together, remember? We’ll go in there and have a nice time. It’ll be good to see everyone.”
“I know.” She took another deep breath and then smiled that sweet grin of hers. “Okay, I’m ready.”
“I love you, you know.”
“I love you, too,” she said.
We got out of the car and walked toward the house where our families were waiting.
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This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer's imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2017 Claire Adams
