Thanksgiving Ham

Standing outside the town FoodMart, Edith gazed longingly at the low hanging power lines that swayed dangerously close to the flickering grocery sign. The pre-storm winds tickled the humming cords, beckoning them to meet the digital letters in a rebellious kiss. Edith wanted to watch it happen: see the sparks fly, their beautiful arcs like lightning across the sky. But if she wasn’t home soon with the family turkey, Mama would surely strike her instead.

Edith turned to grab a squeaky cart from the port, but someone had just rolled away with the last available cart. The woman's receding feet slapped against the pavement, mocking her. Edith growled in her throat, staring at the power cords with anger that boiled in her stomach like a stew. Thanksgiving Day was meant to celebrate all our blessings, Mama always explained, but Edith knew it was the one time she couldn’t hide the fact that there was nothing for her to be thankful for.

It was hard for even her narrow shoulders to maneuver through the stuffed aisles once she passed through the skidding doors. Edith was only there to purchase one item, but she still managed to get caught behind laughing families, screaming children, as if her feet were sinking low into thick gravy. Surely the next morning she’d be bruised on her legs from the corners she checked and the carts that bit her ankles hungrily.

Edith pulled curls from her face, finally seeing the torn sign for Thanksgiving turkeys. She rushed forward in relief, until her worn sneakers screeched to a short stop. Below her nose, the rows of refrigerated containers were empty, only a few tags and fishnet wrappings were left forgotten at the bottom, cold and lonely. Unleashing her youthful rage, Edith kicked the bottom of the fridge and stubbed her big toe. She groaned deep form her throat all while ignoring the adults that stared at her. Her own Mama and Papa would look the same way once she returned home without a turkey. How it was her fault Mama didn’t buy a turkey until Thanksgiving day, Edith didn’t know, but of course it was Edith’s fault and her problem to deal with.

Very well. They’d have a ham. It was basically the same thing, right?

She hefted the ham with her whole body and shoved her way back through the crowd to the snaking line. Even on a holiday, only two registers were open for every poor planner in town.

It didn’t matter what Edith brought home to her family. Once they all sat around the table later, Mama and Papa would pull on their freshly baked smiles like a thick coat of lush red lipstick, the kind that glistened for attention. Edith hated it. Maybe she’d rush into Mama’s bathroom when she got home and throw the lipstick away. Edith drew in a sharp breath knowing that whether Mama’s lips were blood red or not, Edith would always receive the same clipped smile.

Edith paid for the ham with her birthday money. She asked for an extra bag to carry the 15-pound hunk of meat, but only received a tired gaze from the clerk. She couldn’t tell if his wrinkles were a frown or a clear sign of disinterest. Either way, he humphed as he handed her an extra bag, and Edith slipped the clammy ham into the loud plastic. It was a mile walk home. Her chicken arms would turn to noodles by the time she arrived with the meat.

Still upset by the whipping cords above the grocery, Edith resisted the urge to hurl the meat at it and instead waddled through the crackled parking lot back toward her house, the house that looked the same as every other white picketed, perfectly mowed half-acre lot. She passed the houses and listened closely to the laughs and bright conversation seeping through screen doors and wide windows. Edith was the only one on the street—just her and her ham. Many times during her walk she had to stop to set the ham down and shake out her skinny arms. If she could, Edith would kick it down the street as far as it would go. Maybe even past her house. But she knew, more than anything else, she’d end up breaking her toe and then where would that get her.

“Come on, stupid thing,” Edith sighed.

Maybe the ham was a nice pig once upon a time, just a misunderstood guy who lingered in the corners of the pen unsure of his purpose of life and learning too late. Edith smoothed her hand over the skin of the ham consolingly. She understood.

Finally, Edith approached her street full of skinny trees, pastel shingles and quiet rustling. Somewhere in the midst of it all, her family awaited. Slowly, Edith’s heart began to pound harder against the ham pressed hard to her chest. Her arms were shaking; she was out of breath. She both dreaded and sought out the final arrival.

“There you are! What took you so long? Mama’s mad,” Edith’s brother, Benny, called out. He smiled mischievously, swinging on the door frame as she approached the lawn. Above his head, the wind chime twinkled deviously. Edith sucked in a breath to call for his muscular help, but Benny quickly ducked from the porch with a cackle. Edith stomped up the steps of the porch, pregnant with her ham.

Mama’s eyes fell on her with great urgency when she entered the kitchen. “Hurry, hurry! We need to get the turkey in the oven—What!” she cried. “This isn’t even turkey. Edith Joy—” Mama clamped her red lips shut, probably realizing she didn’t have time to dawdle on the type of chunk that came into her kitchen, and decided instead to begin with haste peeling the packaging away to expose the raw meat. “Just chop the onions and potatoes for now,” Mama huffed with tight lips. “You can at least do that, right?”

For the rest of the morning hours, Edith helped around the kitchen wherever she could without causing more trouble than she was worth. At one point, she sliced the tip of her finger, but glancing over at Mama who was anxiously stirring a bowl of cake batter, Edith thought it better to just rinse the cut silently and continue her work. Benny and Papa watched the game in the small living room while the women worked. It didn’t matter to Edith whether she was here or there, as long as she was silent and helpful.

“Go set the table,” Mama spoke from the silence, taking the finished bowls and pans to the table. “Our guests will be here soon.”

Again, Edith felt a wave of dread splash on her like the times Benny shoved her in the winter lake water. She didn’t want to see her grandparents and cousins and the babies, and hear the stories and the questions and the comments. Edith intentionally wore a long sleeve dress to avoid her grandmother’s constant pinches and direct comments about her paleness. How could she ever tan when Mama would chastise her for choosing to relax instead of cleaning? Or cooking? Or buying a turkey?

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. Edith ran to the kitchenette to grab as many sets of placewear she could, setting them quickly and meticulously, both to avoid the guests at the door and appease Mama. First, her cousins entered. Both families greeted one another warmly and with many hugs, asking how old the kids were now, how school was going, whether they would go on a vacation or not. Not. Edith stood in the back, smiling only with closed chapped lips. It was for the better—her cousins’ eyes glazed over Edith as if she were one of the many flowers in the wallpaper. If she could climb into the wall and fold herself into the gentle blue of the petals, she would.

“Come here Edith, help them with their coats,” Mama cooed sweetly. Edith tried to match Mama’s honey-sweet facade by parting her lips, but no one was looking at her to see. She took the coats of her family members and hung them gingerly on the grandfather coat hanger by the door. Behind the cousins, the grandparents followed. Sure enough, as she greeted them and took their coats, her grandmother took the opportunity for a quick squeeze of the soft flesh of Edith’s wrist. Edith made a little noise under her breath but held her fragile composure. Just keep moving, she tried to coax from within. They did.

The door opened again, but this time Edith's insides tilted until they began falling. She stumbled back a step, holding onto the jungle of coats as if it would straighten everything inside her. Mikey, the junior basketball player from Edith's school, entered the front door with ease. Not just any front door, but Edith’s. He was completely out of place in her foyer; a pumpkin pie amongst the tarts.

Since her childhood, she came to know his daily routine as she knew the creaky planks on the staircase. On the mornings before school, Edith would rush past the breakfast table to make it outside in time to see Mikey's jersey rush by her fence. After school, she’d walk the long way home if only to see Mikey practicing with the rest of the basketball players at the neighborhood blacktop. He was a grade above Edith, so they had no classes, but of course Edith could spot the school's star wherever he went—she wasn’t the only student with eyes for him.

Mikey was sweaty and red whenever Edith saw him. He was always just coming from practice, or getting ready to go to practice, or cooling down with a run instead of having practice. But today he was in his church slacks with his hair gelled back into gentle waves and the boyish blushed cheeks were put away with his jersey and sneakers. The smell of him crashed over her gently, no longer that of a sweaty musk.

Why was he here? Edith wondered if Mikey had any recollection of who she even was. He was always focused during practice, never glancing at the girl perched by the sidelines. Maybe that’s why she liked him so much.

Right—this was her opportunity to see if he recognized her—

“Thanks,” Mikey murmured, handing his heavy coat to Edith. Her lips parted in surprise but there were no words behind them, just a little gasp that burst free of her chest. Her reaction time was too slow, as Mikey was already passing through the tight corridor into the homey living room talking to Benny about sports and Papa about the game and Mama about how good everything smelled.

Edith threw Mikey’s jacket on top of all the others and sped to the kitchen. That was her chance, but of course he hadn’t recognized her. All he noticed was a moving coatrack at the door.

Edith smoother her hair and dress, making sure there was nothing wrong about her, then sauntered into the living room where the festivities had begun. Her eyes searched the room for a chair near Mikey so maybe, at the very least, she could try to start a conversation with him and tell him she goes to the same school, maybe see if he recognized her. But the only seat open was the folding chair behind Papa’s reclining one, farthest from Mikey. If she slouched in the chair, she might disappear behind the greying wisps of Papa’s hair as she usually did. There was a twinkle inside of her that thought a flower on the wallpaper would be more easily seen than her. At least some of them bloomed.

“Who’s hungry?” Mama interrupted. Everyone stirred excitedly at the promise of a stuffing meal. The family crowded into the dining room that was usually meant for four and snuggled in at the table. Steam rose from the casseroles and freshly baked buns. Closest to Edith, the ham sagged in an awful smile.

“Let’s say blessing. Dear?”

Papa cleared his throat. “Dear gracious Lord, we thank you for the many blessings you give us throughout the year and a time to come together as a family. Thank you for this wonderful meal that you’ve provided and for the working hands that went into it. We ask that you would continue to bless us and provide for all of our needs. Amen.”

“Amen,” they all harmonized.

Edith instinctively reached first for the potatoes in front of her but instead of grasping the spoon, her hand clamped around Mikey's. Her eyes flashed to Mikey’s, then she ripped her hand away as if it was caught in the oven. His eyebrows softened briefly, then the creaminess of the potatoes stole his attention. Edith decided she didn't want potatoes anymore.

“Pass the green beans,” Mama ordered and Edith quickly complied. Edith didn't pay attention as the bowls and pans passed her hands. By the end of it, her plate was full and she didn’t know how—she didn’t even have an appetite at that point. But something told her if she didn’t clean her plate, there would be an angry scowl to chase her back to her seat. She cut into her ham, chewing slowly, thinking that ham was tastier than turkey anyway, so what was the big deal if she bought a ham instead of a turkey? Meat is meat.

“Well everyone, since it’s Thanksgiving,” Mama patted her mouth clean, “why don’t we go around the table and share something we’re thankful for? I’ll start: I’m thankful for my wonderful family, this delicious meal and the changing colors on the trees. Honey, you’re next,” she directed and elegantly returned to placing fingernail sized cutlets of ham in her mouth. A red curve filled the lower half of her face.

“Hm. I guess I’m thankful for the big game tonight.”

“That’s beautiful honey. Benny?”

With stuffing sticking out the side of his cheeks, Benny grinned. “Thanksgiving break.”

The cousins added their little comments as well, about their babies and their adult lives, as did the grandparents besides them. “Mikey?”

Edith’s eyes turned to him. Mikey thought about his answer for a moment. “I’m thankful that you invited me to spend the day with your lovely family,” he said, which earned him the approval of every person seated. Then it was time for Edith to say what she was thankful for, and she couldn’t think of a single thing to say to her entire family. I’m thankful that Mikey’s here. I’m thankful that he’s looking at me—actually, never mind. I wish he wouldn’t.

“I—I’m thankful for my walks home from school...and ham,” Edith said abruptly. Her family stared at her differently than anyone before her. Apparently ham was an incorrect answer. Edith felt her anxiety spark and twist sharply in her chest as the silence grew and grew. She was nearly about to shove her chair back and leave, but Mikey laughed suddenly. All eyes sprung to him, curious but willing. Without really questioning why he was laughing, slowly everyone began laughing with him. It was like Mikey’s presence gave them permission to dismiss Edith’s craziness and brush it off as no more than a one-time joke rather than a chronic trait. Edith was thankful for that—the sudden release of a burden she didn’t know pressed down. She laughed for the first time and felt the sweet shudder in her lungs, noting the way it lingered even after the laughing died down.

Slowly the plates cleared and the pants tightened, until all were yawning and even the sun searched for a place to rest for the day. Mikey stood with many thanks and bid his farewell. The little tingle returned in her chest and Edith pushed with the fresh air in her lungs to say, “Why don’t I walk you home?” No one was as surprised as her.

“That would be nice,” Mikey smiled. Edith was across the room in seconds, little curls of hair flying excitedly around her face. She handed Mikey his coat and borrowed her father’s worn black one to join him outside. They walked slowly in the setting sun and cool breeze, letting the leaves do all the talking.

It was the first time Edith was this close to him. He’d always been just out of her reach; behind a fence, across a hallway, a year apart. Now, if she really wanted to, she could touch him. So close, she could smell him. He was more real than he'd ever been before.

Without realizing it, Mikey’s house was quickly approaching even though they were walking as slowly as she did whenever she passed the practice fields. Her heart raced.

“Tell your mom thanks again for inviting me over for dinner,” he said finally, turning to get a look at her. Edith couldn’t respond, only nodded with awe. Mikey’s steps came to a gentle stop, like he was waiting. If she was going to say something, she needed to act now.

“Why did my mom invite you?”

“She didn’t tell you?" He pushed his cold hands into his pockets with a light chuckle. "My parents wanted their own vacation, and the basketball team didn’t have their party this year because of the budget so it was just me. Alone at home.”

“Oh,” was all she said. While Edith was stuck with her entire family, it seemed that Mikey didn't have an option.

Mikey watched her in the calm silence but Edith couldn’t manage to stare directly at him for more than two seconds at a time. Her eyes bounced around, quickly noticing the door and the tree and the power lines, but not taking in any of their details. Her heart was thumping too loudly for her to think about anything else.

“Edith?”

Her eyes jumped to his, eager to hear her name for the first time. The hairs of her neck seemed to dance as the breeze touched them. Her vision caved in, only allowing the sharp details of his nose and gaze to pierce through. The coldness and the growing night faded away until it dulled into nothing. She was warm and bright.

“Will you walk to the blacktop after school monday?" He asked. Then with the barest pink surfacing on his cheeks, Mikey danced on his toes, pushing his hands farther down into his pockets, and darted his eyes around Edith's face. "Maybe I can walk with you after," he led off.

Did Mikey just ask her to walk together? Edith was lighter than the air and bigger than the sky, floating around powerlines as if she herself was electrified and moving. Her consciousness split from her reality, one being a dream of itself. She nodded, slowly at first then eagerly as his smile relaxed.

They giggled at one another in the middle of the street until Mikey reluctantly walked backward, then entered his quiet home, but Edith was trapped in the euphoric trip in the sky unable to return to her heavy feet. When she did, felt sparks fly around her.

Im thankful for my after-school walks, Edith thought with a smile.