Tyler worked at a bank and had married his high school sweetheart, Brittany. They both lived in the same town where we grew up, close to our parents. I was the odd one out because I’d left because I’d chosen a different path because I wouldn’t play their games anymore. My phone rang an hour later. It was my aunt Diane, my father’s older sister.
Rebecca, honey, did you hear about Thanksgiving? Her voice carried that familiar mixture of sympathy and frustration. I did. It’s fine, Aunt Diane. I wasn’t planning on going anyway. Your mother called me to make sure I knew Madison was hosting this year. She made it very clear that the invitation list was exclusive.
I asked her what that meant, and she said they were only having immediate family. Aunt Diane paused. I haven’t been excluded from Thanksgiving in 40 years, Rebecca. I closed my eyes. I’m sorry. Don’t you dare apologize for them. Her voice sharpened. I called your uncle Frank and he got the same treatment. So did your aunt Susan and uncle Mike.
Your mother told Susan that they were simplifying this year. An idea began forming in my mind. A delicious, satisfying idea. Aunt Diane, how would you feel about having Thanksgiving at my place this year? Your place? Honey, I don’t want you to go to any trouble. It wouldn’t be trouble. I promise. I smiled, looking out at my grounds again.
I have plenty of space. Well, if you’re sure, that would be lovely. Should I tell the others? Actually, let me reach out to everyone. I want to do this properly. Over the next two weeks, I contacted every aunt, uncle, and cousin who’d been excluded from Madison’s exclusive Thanksgiving. Aunt Diane and Uncle Frank, Aunt Susan, and Uncle Mike.
