One Night

by Allie Everhart

  "I don't know if I want people hearing it. It's personal. I wrote it for Amber."

  "Has she heard it?"

  "Not yet. I wanted to see if you or Van thought it needed any changes before I played it for her."

  "It doesn't need any changes. It's perfect. And nobody has to know it's about you and Amber. Unless..."

  "Unless what?"

  "Unless you want them to. You ever think of letting people know who the mystery girl in the song is?"

  "No. I wouldn't do that to Amber. She doesn't want anyone knowing she had a one-night stand."

  "The song's not even about that. You don't even say it in the lyrics."

  I look at him. "It's called One Night. Everyone knows it's about a one-night stand."

  "Fine, but it's nothing to be ashamed of. A lot of people have one-night stands. It's not like she's the only one who's ever done that."

  "Yeah, but still. She doesn't want everyone knowing."

  He nods. "I get where she's coming from. It's different for girls than for guys. Kira probably wouldn't want people knowing either."

  "Did Kira tell you Amber agreed to come to Thanksgiving?"

  "No. When did that happen?"

  "Last night. Maybe she hasn't told Kira yet. I hope she doesn't change her mind. My mom's already excited about meeting her. She called me this morning to tell me. She also said to tell you it's been too long since you've been over there for dinner."

  He smiles. "What's she need done?"

  Austin works construction for a living. He and his brothers all work for their dad's construction company. Austin can fix most anything so my mom has Austin over to fix things around the house that my dad can't figure out. And in return, she makes him dinner.

  "She said something about an outlet in the living room."

  "Jake's better with electrical stuff than I am, but I'll check it out. If I can't fix it, I'll have Jake do it."

  "Thanks, man. Sorry she asks you to do this shit. You know you could always tell her no."

  "And miss out on her lasagna? I don't think so."

  My mom makes awesome lasagna. Austin rarely eats carbs so the fact that he'll eat her lasagna is proof of how good it is.

  "You worried about Amber meeting your family?"

  "Not really. I already told her they're crazy."

  He laughs. "No crazier than my family, although your grandpa's gas problems might scare her away."

  "I already warned her about that."

  "What about Owen?"

  "Yep. Warned her about him too."

  "And she still agreed to come over?" He laughs.

  "Yeah, but she may never come back."

  "I'm just kidding you, man. Your family's awesome. Speaking of family, I gotta go help Nash with some drywall."

  "And I gotta get to class." I walk him to the door.

  He steps outside, stopping to pick something up. "You guys are still doing this?" He holds up an envelope.

  "Yeah." I take it from him. "She must've just dropped this off. It wasn't here earlier."

  "Why are you still writing letters? You guys see each other all the time."

  "Yeah, but she likes the letters so I just keep sending them."

  "You're totally whipped," he says, walking away.

  "Like you aren't?" I call back, but he's already in his truck.

  I'm not whipped. If I didn't want to write the letters, I wouldn't do it. Okay, that's not entirely true. If the letters make Amber happy, I'll do it. I'll do most anything to make her happy.

  ***

  It's Thanksgiving day and Amber and I are heading to my parents' house. Up until this morning, Amber kept trying to back out of coming to dinner, giving me a million excuses for why she couldn't be there. I told her if she didn't come, she'd have to let my mom know, which would disappointment my mom and my entire family, who are all excited to meet her. My little guilt trip worked.

  "They really do live a long ways out," she says as we pass through yet another suburb. We've been driving for almost an hour, slowed down by all the cars trying to leave Chicago.

  "We're almost there. It's the next subdivision."

  "So let me make sure I've got this right. Your dad sells office equipment and your mom is a librarian at a grade school. And your little brother is in sixth grade and likes playing soccer and basketball."

  I chuckle. "Yes, but you don't have to memorize everything about them. They're not going to quiz you."

  She exhales a breath. "I'm nervous."

  "You'll be fine." I reach over and hold her hand. "My family isn't intimidating."

  "I'm still nervous."

  "You've never had to meet the parents before?"

  "Not since high school. As for people I dated in college, I never met their parents."

  "Did you bring guys home to meet your parents?"

  "I tried not to." She glances out the side window.

  "Because your dad wanted to beat up any guy who dated you?" I ask in a kidding tone.

  "It's not just that. It's also...never mind."

  "What? What were you going to say? Something about your parents?"

  "They just embarrass me. That's all."

  "Embarrass you how? By telling funny stories about when you were a kid? If so, my parents do the same thing so be prepared to hear at least one of those stories today."

  "Can't wait." She smiles at me. "I bet you got in a lot of trouble growing up."

  I shrug a shoulder. "A few bank robberies. Grand theft auto. Nothing too serious."

  She laughs. "I didn't know I was dating a criminal."

  "It's all in the past. I'm reformed. Just a regular, law-abiding college student now." I point to my street. "Guess which house is mine."

  She scans the street. "The one with the funny mailbox?"

  "How'd you know?"

  "Because it looks like a stack of books and your mom's a librarian."

  I pull into the driveway. "She made that during her wood crafting stage, which didn't last long. That's the only project she finished."

  "She did a good job on it. It looks like actual books. Does she do other crafts?"

  "Not currently, at least not that I know of. But as I was telling you, she really gets into her Thanksgiving table decor so if you want to win her over, compliment her centerpiece."

  As we get out of the car, the front door opens and my dad comes out, wearing gray trousers and one of his old man sweaters. I call them that because people haven't worn sweaters like that since the Eighties, when he was in high school. He swears they're still in fashion but my mom disagrees so he only wears them at home.

  "You must be Amber," he says, smiling and holding out his hand.

  "Yes." She shakes his hand. "Nice to meet you."

  "Come inside. We're having some appetizers before the big meal."

  "She didn't make those salmon puffs again, did she?" I ask my dad as we go in the house. When guests come over, my mom attempts to make fancy appetizers, which are usually not very good.

  "She didn't have time," he says. "Just cheese and crackers and some of those little meatballs."

  We go in the house, which is filled with the smell of turkey. My dad walks ahead, leading us to the kitchen where my mom is busy at the stove.

  "Dana, our son is here with his girlfriend." He picks up a baby carrot from a tray and pops it in his mouth.

  She stops stirring whatever she's making and hurries over to us. "Amber, right?" She smiles at her.

  "Yes. Nice to meet you."

  "Would you like something to drink? We have pop, water, coffee, tea."

  "Nothing for now." Amber looks around at the kitchen, which is a mess. My mom doesn't clean up until after we eat so dirty pots and pans are scattered everywhere. "Do you need help with anything?"

  "No, everything's almost done." She waves us away. "You two can go wait in the living room. Gramps is in there. He might be sleeping."

  He's not sleeping. He's wide awake, yelling at a football game on TV. It's
not even a new game, but one being replayed from a year ago.

  "Damn idiot, can't even hold onto the ball!" He shakes his fist from his recliner.

  "Gramps, that game is from last year," I tell him as Amber and I sit on the couch.

  "Doesn't matter." He keeps his eyes on the game. "The boy still needs to learn how to catch a ball."

  "I brought a guest," I say. "This is Amber. My girlfriend." As I say it, I realize that's the first time I've introduced her like that.

  He nods at her, then looks back at the TV. "Did you see that play he just made?"

  "He's not much for conversation unless it's about sports," I say to Amber.

  She smiles. "It's okay."

  "Dylan, catch!" my brother yells as he launches a football at me.

  "Hey." I grab it before it hits Amber in the head. "Don't be throwing this in the house."

  He lumbers over to us, rolling his eyes. "You sound just like Mom."

  "You can't play ball in here. You almost hit Amber in the head."

  "Hi," she says, offering him a wave.

  "Are you his girlfriend?" He stops in front of her.

  "Um, yeah." She always sounds unsure about it, even when I call her that when we're alone. It makes me wonder if she's second-guessing our relationship. She doesn't say she is but she's constantly reminding me she wants to take things slow.

  My brother quickly loses interest in Amber and takes the football from me. "Dylan, let's go out back and play."

  "Not today," I tell him. "We have a guest."

  He huffs. "We can't play because of some girl?"

  Amber quietly laughs, then says to me, "Go ahead. It's fine. I'll stay here with Gramps."

  "Touchdown!" He leans forward and stomps his foot on the floor. "Damn idiot finally did something right!"

  I hitch my thumb at Gramps. "I can't leave you with that."

  She laughs again.

  "Owen." My dad appears. "Get your coat on. We have to go to the store and get cranberry sauce."

  "Why do I have to go?" he whines.

  "Because I don't want you bothering your brother and his girlfriend. Now come on."

  "Nobody's going to eat that stuff," I say to my dad.

  "It's tradition. It has to be there, whether we eat it or not."

  "I'll eat it," Amber says.

  I turn to her. "You will?"

  "Sure. I grew up eating it. At my house we have it every year and we actually finish the whole can."

  "Well, there you go," my dad says. "It won't go to waste. See you kids soon."

  He takes off with Owen.

  "What else does your family have at Thanksgiving?" I ask Amber. "Besides canned cranberry sauce?"

  "The usual. Turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes."

  "How many people come over?"

  "This year it's just my parents and younger sister. Oh, and her boyfriend. That should be interesting."

  "Penalty!" Gramps yells, throwing his hands up. "Can't you see that's a penalty?"

  "Just ignore him," I tell Amber. "So what were you saying about your sister's boyfriend?"

  "She claims he's just a friend but I'm pretty sure he's more than that. My dad hates any guy we date. This poor guy she's dating is going to be questioned to death before dinner even starts. He may not even make it to dinner. My dad may scare him off."

  "Then why'd your sister invite him?"

  "It was my idea. I thought it would keep my parents from..." She trails off, her eyes going to the TV.

  "Keep your parents from what? Fighting?"

  She looks back at me. "How'd you know I was going to say that?"

  "You tense up whenever you talk about your parents so I assumed there was a story there. I figured either you didn't get along with them or they didn't get along with each other."

  "I get along with them separately, but as a couple, all they do is fight and I don't like being around that." She tenses up, her face tight, her shoulders stiff.

  I hold her hand. "You want to talk about it?"

  She fakes a smile. "There's nothing to say. That's just how they are. So anyway, do you guys do anything else on Thanksgiving besides dinner?"

  "Watch football." I give a sideways glance to Gramps.

  "Interference!" he shouts, pounding his fist on the chair. "No wonder they lost this game!"

  Amber startles every time he yells but I barely even notice. He's been this way for as long as I can remember. When my grandma was alive, she'd tell him to quiet down but he never did.

  "What about your family?" I ask Amber. "Do you guys do anything besides the big dinner?"

  "My sisters and I used to go to the movies, just to get out of the house. I kind of miss our Thanksgiving movie tradition."

  "Then let's go after we eat."

  "Go where?"

  "To the movies. There's a new theater just a few miles from here. It has like sixteen screens."

  "What about watching football?"

  "I can skip it. I'm not that into football. I catch a game now and then and that's good enough."

  "But won't your parents be mad if you leave?"

  "We don't have to leave right away. We'll have dinner, hang around for an hour, and leave." I get my phone out and find the theater. "Here. Pick what you want to see."

  Two hours later, we've finished dinner and are having dessert, except for Gramps, who's still working on his turkey leg.

  "Damn gristle," he mumbles to himself. He always blames the food for why he takes forever to eat, even though we all know it's because of his dentures, but he refuses to get new ones.

  "So you never said how you met," my mom says as we're eating our pumpkin pie.

  Amber chokes and coughs on her pie. She was hoping this topic wouldn't come up and now she's panicking.

  I hand her a glass of water, then calmly say, "We met at a party."

  "Oh." My mom pats her mouth with a napkin. "I guess I assumed Austin set you two up. Amber, isn't Austin's girlfriend your roommate?"

  Amber's gulping down her water so I answer for her. "Yeah, Kira and Amber share an apartment. They grew up together back in Michigan. But I actually met Amber last May, before I knew Kira."

  "And you're just now dating?"

  Amber jumps in. "We didn't exchange numbers at the party. We lost track of each other and I didn't see him again until just recently."

  Amber desperately wants to get off this topic. She's nervous, her foot tapping the floor under the table.

  Luckily for her, the conversation is interrupted with a loud noise across the table coming from Owen. It's his fake fart noise. He's done it three times now and laughs every time.

  "Owen." My mom gives him her warning look. "Stop it."

  "What? It's the chair. I swear."

  Amber's trying to hold in her laughter. She knows laughing will just encourage him. He loves an audience, especially someone new to entertain.

  Just as I take my last bite of pumpkin pie, a real fart noise cuts through the silence in the room. It's long and drawn out and when I look at Gramps, I see him still gnawing on his turkey leg, as if nothing happened.

  Owen bursts out laughing. "Wasn't me!" he yells.

  "Dad," my dad says to his father. "Maybe you should excuse yourself."

  "Why?" He smiles at Owen. "I can't help it if your damn chairs make noise."

  Looking over at Amber, I can tell she's doing all she can to keep from laughing.

  I lean over and whisper in her ear, "Sorry. My family's nuts."

  "Well," my mother stands up, "would anyone like more coffee?"

  "I'll have some," my dad says.

  "I'm fine," Amber says. "By the way, I love your centerpiece. Did you make it?"

  "Yes, I made it last weekend."

  "It's really beautiful. I like how you mixed the leaves with the mini pumpkins."

  My mom's beaming. Her centerpiece, the crowning glory of her meal, has been recognized and appreciated by an outsider. This will make her day.

  I can t
ell my mom likes Amber. My dad does too. They were smiling at her all through dinner and kept asking her questions. Then they'd smile at me, as if letting me know they approve. I don't need their approval but it's good to know they like her. Because I more than like her. I could see a real future with her.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Amber

  This is how Thanksgiving should be. No parents screaming at each other. Just a family sitting around a table having a normal conversation. I haven't had a Thanksgiving like that since I was twelve. After that, my parents started bickering which eventually became what is now full blown fights, not just at Thanksgiving, but all the time.

  All week I worried about coming to Dylan's house but it turned out to be good. I got a real turkey dinner, didn't have to sit in my apartment all alone, and was able to see a different side of Dylan. Unlike me, who would be a nervous wreck if he were around my family, Dylan's been completely relaxed, even when his brother made fart noises, which was hilarious, not just the noises themselves but the fact that no one reacted. And then when Gramps let one rip? They still didn't react. But I had tears in my eyes trying to hold back my laughter. Dylan's grandpa is too old to care about what anyone thinks so he just does whatever he wants.

  "So, Amber, do you have any activities outside of class?" Dylan's dad asks as his mom refills his coffee.

  Dylan chuckles. "We'll be here all day."

  I explain. "I belong to a lot of clubs and organizations on campus. I also work at a restaurant, usually just one day a week. And I volunteer to read to kids. Well, just one. Her name is Emily. I go to her school every Monday."

  Dylan's mom sets the coffee pot down. "Does she have trouble reading? Is that why she's part of this program?"

  "Yes. She's in second grade but has trouble reading even simple words."

  "Has she been tested for a learning disability?"

  "I assume she has but I don't really know."

  "If she hasn't, they need to test her. Her mother needs to tell them to. When Dylan was struggling, I had to push the school system to test him."

  I look at Dylan. "You had problems reading?"

  "I'm dyslexic," he says casually. "I thought I told you that."

  "No. I didn't know."

  "When he was first learning to read," his mom explains, "he used to get so frustrated that I knew something was wrong. Once he was diagnosed, his teachers were able to adapt their teaching methods, and things went a lot better after that. He had to work harder than the other children at school, but he did, and ended up getting mostly A's."