What on earth does this have to do with a Thanksgiving meal?
“So, let’s pretend I’m Nancy. When I turned sixteen, I met Frank. Frank is nice and fun and likes all the movies I like. He likes to go to the mall and eat Chipotle. I give Frank my first kiss.” The woman cut a piece of the heart off, and let it fall to the floor. I stared at the mutilated paper heart in her hand. This just felt wrong.
“And then, a year later, Frank and I break up. I go off to college. I meet a guy named Peter. Peter is smart and I take him home to meet my parents. I have sex with Peter…” She cut a big piece of the paper heart away.
I glanced back in the direction of Rachel and saw that her eyes were wide. David was staring at his hands. Is this what they really believed? I darted my gaze to Micah. He was watching “Nancy.”
“Maybe Peter and I don’t work out, and I don’t date anyone else until I’m at my first job out of college. That’s when I meet my future husband, Carl,” the youth group counselor said. She held up the cut-up heart, then lifted another full paper heart.
“This is Carl’s heart. He didn’t date anyone in high school or college. He waited for his future wife. Do you want to give your husband your broken, sliced-up heart on your wedding day?” She scanned the room again, almost as if she were a detective, trying to sniff the truth out of us. I adjusted awkwardly in my chair.
“Or do you want to give him everything?”
She left no room for discussion. The way she displayed the scenario, we’d all be crazy to say we didn’t want to give a “full heart.”
“So, it’s bad to date? Because I’m dating someone,” a girl sitting beside me said. The youth group counselor shrugged and extended her hand that was holding the cut-up heart.
“It’s your choice. What do you want to give your future husband?” A small smile broke out on the woman’s face. “Now, let’s give thanks for all of our blessings today.”
Micah leaned over and whispered into my ear, “It was nice knowing you.”
I snorted, folding the paper heart, and slid it into my jeans pocket. Was the counselor trying to say it was wrong for me to be dating Micah? It didn’t feel wrong. And I didn’t feel like I was giving anything up. Wasn’t life supposed to be full of experiences?
After the group prayer, we were all dismissed. I followed Micah as he led us through the basement, toward the exit to leave. I heard Rachel call after me.
“Hey, thanks for coming! I hope you had an awesome time!”
“Yeah,” I said, bobbing my head awkwardly. “Thanks for inviting us. The food was great.” That would do.
“Of course.” Rachel grinned at me and then Micah. “Enjoy Thanksgiving break!”
“Oh, we will,” Micah piped in. He interlaced his fingers with mine and began to pull me toward the main door. “Gotta get Charlie home before curfew. See you around!”
I was grateful for his excuse. As we emerged out into the chilly night, we looked at each other and began to laugh.
“No matter how many burnt apple pies or paper hearts you promise me, I’m not going back in there again,” he said between laughs. “No if, ands, or buts about it.”
I nodded in agreement.
“Ready to go home?” Micah asked, releasing my hand and opening the passenger-side door for me.
“Yes.” I sighed as I sat down.
“Ready for round two of Thanksgiving dinner tomorrow?”
“Ugh!” I groaned at the thought of more food. “I’m sure you are.”
“The way to my paper heart is food.” He winked. I laughed and shook my head as he closed the door.
“Super Trouper”
ABBA
IN THE LIVING ROOM, JOSH turned the volume of the stereo up, filling the house with Paul McCartney’s “Wonderful Christmas Time.” As children, Josh and I would change the lyrics to fit the Thanksgiving holiday, and the song just kind of stuck as part of our getting-ready tradition. My dad stood over the cooked turkey, dousing it with more peach wine. My mom set a few ingredients in front of Micah and me while she worked on getting a few other dishes around for the main meal.
“Since it doesn’t take too long to bake, want to work on the green bean casserole?” my mom asked the both of us. This was one of the most highly anticipated dish for me, all year—along with Stove Top stuffing. Micah took the two cans of green beans on the counter and opened them. I grabbed the can of cream soup and milk and made the mixture. Micah grinned at me as we worked together. His dad hadn’t been able to get off work, which left Micah to fend for himself on the holiday. Of course, at the mention of his situation, my parents invited him over for dinner.
“Maybe we can watch the football game,” my dad had said the night before as he flipped through channels. I was glad my mom and dad were so open to Micah. As I stood there beside him, stirring the creamy green beans, it almost felt like he was part of our family. Josh came to stand beside me, tilting to his head to the side at the sight of our concoction.
“I hate this stuff,” he commented.
“Good! More for me,” I replied, as I picked up the casserole dish and slid it into the oven. Micah began to set the table with the dishes my mom had left stacked on the counter. I took that moment to admire how nicely dressed he was. It looked like he had even ironed his beige-colored dress shirt for the occasion.
“Keep your eye on the timer,” my mom said to me as she washed a few of the pots and pans she was done using. She always liked to reduce the mess along the way as she cooked. It made the cleanup easier later on after we were done eating.
Micah must have caught me gawking at him; he smirked and shook his head at me.
The green bean casserole was finished by the time my parents set their side dishes on the table. My dad placed the plate of sliced turkey in front of Josh and took his seat. I carried the casserole over to the table with oven mitts and placed it closest to Micah and me.
My mom poured a little bit of wine into all of our wine glasses and took her own seat. Everyone murmured how great everything looked. Josh took two spoonfuls of Mom’s mashed potatoes. Dad lifted his glass and waited for us to do the same.
“To my family, whom I’m thankful for every day,” he said. “Happy Thanksgiving.”
“Happy Thanksgiving!” we all echoed with smiles as our glasses clinked against each other’s. I took a sip of the sweet wine and peeked at Micah. He lowered his glass and cleared his throat.
“Thank you for sharing your Thanksgiving with me,” Micah said.
“Of course,” Mom said with a smile. “You’re family too.”
I liked the sound of that; even Dad gave him a smile. That had to mean something. We all ate quietly until there was nothing left on our plates. Josh and Mom were the first to get up and start clearing away the table.
“All this work for a quick meal, and it feels like it takes forever to clean up!” I groaned a little as I pushed myself up from the table. I took Dad and Micah’s plates, along with my own, to the sink to help.
“At least we don’t have paper hearts to go with it,” Micah replied, doing his best to hide his smirk. My parents looked at us, confused.
“Next year, we should just go out,” Dad teased as he lifted his cup.
“We say that every year,” I replied, rolling my eyes. I began to put the leftovers into containers.
“So, the Vikings are playing the Colts tonight,” Dad said in Micah and Josh’s direction. “Anyone interested in watching the game?”
“Hells yeah!” Josh said, pushing himself up from his seat. Micah looked at me and then slowly nodded.
“Sure. I haven’t watched football in a long time.”
My mom smiled at me as I brought the rest of the dirty dishes to the sink. My dad and the guys wandered to the living room, taking bets on who would win.
“Seems to me like Dad likes him, don’t
’cha think?” I said softly, tugging a dry towel from one of the drawers near the sink. I carefully dried dishes as my mom continued to wash them.
“I think Micah is very well-received, Charlie,” she said. “Think I’ll slip away for a bit and take a bath while they watch TV.”
After we finished washing, drying and putting everything away, I sat down on the living room floor. I watched as my dad, my brother and my boyfriend watched the game together, and couldn’t help but feel thankful. This was one of the best Thanksgivings ever.
During a commercial break, I asked, “So, when do we put up the Christmas tree?”
All I received in response were groans.
IT TOOK A DAY TO recover from the big Thanksgiving meal.
Micah’s birthday followed shortly after. I was ready for an entire day of fun with the photo scavenger hunt I had prepared. I woke up early that morning and texted Micah right away. I wanted to make sure we had enough time for everything.
CHARLIE: HAPPY BIRTHDAY MICAH!!
CHARLIE: You should probably come over early! I have an epic gift for you!
MICAH: Good Morning to you too ;)
MICAH: Wow! Am I a lucky guy or what?
MICAH: I’ll be over in a bit.
I didn’t waste any time. I pushed myself out of bed, showered, and dressed. Just as I was about to pull a wool hat over my damp hair, I heard my phone buzz.
MICAH: Almost there!
CHARLIE: Good! Meet you out in the driveway!
From the notebook, I tore the page with the list of things Micah needed to collect or capture on his phone. I tugged on my jacket and bolted to the front door, stuffing the piece of paper into my pocket.
“Where are you going in such a hurry?” Dad asked from the living room. He was sitting in his armchair, watching a show on HGTV.
“It’s Micah’s birthday!” I smiled. “I’ll be back later.”
“Be safe,” he called after me. Micah was just pulling his car into the driveway as I closed the front door behind me. The cold chill in the air left me a bit breathless. The front yard was still covered in snow. Micah rolled down his window.
“Why do I have a feeling you’re up to no good?”
I ignored him and hopped into the passenger seat.
“I have a scavenger hunt planned for you.” I said as I presented the folded piece of paper to him. Micah adjusted in his seat and took the list from me.
“Take a selfie with a street sign. Find a CD we both like. Get a slushy from the Mini-Mart?” He looked up at me, clearly amused. “And what, are you going to be the one taking all of the photos?”
“Yeah, of course I will,” I said. “It’ll be fun! And just think of all the great memories you’ll have of your eighteenth birthday!”
“You enjoy spending your time with a guy who’s flunked a grade?” he asked. I rolled my eyes.
“It helps me feel better about myself,” I teased. “Geesh.”
“Wow. I think you just burned me!”
“Pick the first thing you want to do,” I said impatiently, pointing paper.
“Let’s begin with the slushy. For luck!” Micah handed it back to me. As he started the ignition, a blast of the familiar song “We’re Not Gonna Take It” by Twisted Sister came from the speakers.
“Let’s get this birthday started!” Micah said as he backed the car out of the driveway.
“Winter Song”
Sara Bareilles and Ingrid Michaelson
Get a slushy from the Mini-Mart
Get a selfie in front of a very tall tree
Find a CD we both like
Take a picture in front of a house decorated for Xmas
Take a selfie with a street sign
Get a selfie with a “for-sale” sign.
Go to the arcade and play a game – buy a token
Get a selfie with cardboard cut out at movie theater
“How many more do I have to go?” Micah asked as he tapped through the camera roll on his phone in the car. He smiled and turned the screen for me to see. It was a picture of him in front of a house that had a huge “For Sale” sign, and he was giving the camera a thumbs-up. I hadn’t noticed just how deep the snow appeared until I took a closer look at the photo. I grinned and took his phone, swiping through a few other pictures.
“We don’t have one together,” Micah mentioned as he wrapped an arm around my shoulder. I leaned in close, enjoying the warmth and scent of him. He smelled of musky pine and cedar soap. As I lifted the phone, Micah touched the button on the screen and captured our two smiling faces. I’d have to remind him to send it to me.
“So, how many?” he asked again, and held a hand out for the list. I pulled the piece of paper from my pocket and gave it to him. He only had a few more left. We had already taken a break for lunch at his favorite pizzeria, Grand Pizza.
“Always the pizza,” he had teased me, referencing our study night at Samantha’s house. We had been forced to play an uncomfortable game of ‘Would You Rather,’ and I had stuffed my face with several slices of pizza. “It’s all right. I like a girl with an appetite.”
“You only have four more things to do,” I replied.
“Find a CD we both like. Really?” He looked a bit wounded and pulled out a blank CD from his console. “I thought you enjoyed my music.”
“I do!” I said quickly.
“Then this task shouldn’t count as something I have to do.” Micah smirked. I sighed and decided to give in. I took my pen and crossed out “FIND A CD WE BOTH LIKE.”
“Cheater.” I stuck my tongue out at him.
“Nope. And I’ll prove it to you,” Micah said. He slid the disc into the CD player. “I’ll bet you anything you’ll like the first song on this mix.”
“Fine,” I said. “What are the stakes?”
“That’ll be for me to decide,” he replied. I turned up the volume of the radio. “You Make My Dreams Come True” by Hall & Oates began with its steady tempo.
“What are you, a walking eighties movie?” I raised my eyebrow at him. Micah laughed and skipped to the next song. “Tainted Love” began. I changed it again. The pulsing of “We Belong” filled the air. I caught myself humming along for the first minute.
“Does this count as a CD we both like?” Micah asked.
“I dooonnn’tttt knooowwww…” I said, and changed the song. First, “Tenderness” by General Public, then the beat of “Real Wild Child” from the Pretty Woman soundtrack began to play. I sat back in my seat and bobbed my head to the music.
“You’re not like anyone in our school, you know that?”.
“Why do you say that?” Micah lifted his phone and I knew he was snapping a picture of me. I bit my bottom lip, smiling shyly.
“You’re just…not. No one else I know is into this kind of music.”
“Oh, just wait.” He laughed and leaned forward, changing the song again. “Karma Chameleon” began and I couldn’t help but giggle.
“See? Exactly!” I said, gesturing toward his stereo system. “No one in our high school listens to Culture Club. No one.”
Micah shrugged. “I think there’s character to the songs of the past. They capture a moment in time we’ll never have again. They’re the songs we remember. For people our age, we’ll never know what it was really like, other than what they might show on film. But music…” He nodded. “Music, at times, is the soul of a person, or a culture. Music has the ability to capture deeper things.” Micah smiled and shrugged again. “But I guess you already know that.”
I felt my cheeks burn as I nodded. Last month, I had made a mixed CD for Micah to confess how I felt about him. The songs I chose had been my way of trying to express myself; my feelings, when I knew words would only fail. I leaned forward and changed the song, eager to see what else was on the CD. “I Wanna Rock ’N Roll All N
ite” was next. I changed it again. I recognized the song from the Broadway show, Jersey Boys.
“You like even older stuff?” I asked. I immediately recognized the song as “December, 1963 (Oh, What a Night).”
“Sure,” Micah confessed. “Beach Boys. Four Seasons. Wayne Newton. Dean Martin.”
“Really?”
“Yeah!” He laughed. “Hard to believe, huh?”
“Kinda,” I replied and switched to the next song. I looked at him with wide eyes as a ’50s song began. The rhythm was upbeat and sounded kinda fun.
“Oh, this is great,” Micah said as he tapped his fingers against his legs. “‘Runaround Sue’ by Dion. Just makes you move.”
“I never knew you liked this range of music.”
“People are full of secrets.” He smiled. “I had a good friend back in Georgia, and his dad was really into old cars. He and a bunch of guys who owned vehicles from the fifties—T-Birds, Newports, Corvettes...a range of cars—would meet up at drive-ins, and go through the town, playing a bunch of old music. It was kinda cool. My friend’s dad gave me a CD of the music they’d play and I listened to that thing until it was too scratched up to work in my CD player. And that just sort of led me into more music from the era.”
“That’s actually really neat,” I said.
“Yeah, I guess,” he said with a shrug and lifted the paper again. “So, I guess we should finish this?”
“What do you want to do next?” I asked.
“Well, I can’t do the Christmas lights until it’s a little darker out. I drove by the theater the other day and there was no cardboard cut-out in the ticket booth.” I hadn’t expected the theater would have removed their super big BB8 display so soon.
The Songs We Remember: A Young Adult Romance (The Songs in Our Hearts Book 2) Page 4
