and two, I’ve never before been so grateful for her.
“Looks like we’re spending Thanksgiving together.”
Chapter 11
“This is a bad idea,” I murmur as I stare in the mirror of my bedroom vanity. Yet, I pick up my liquid eyeliner, continuing to beat my face before heading out to Thanksgiving dinner.
I’ve pulled my hair up into a high bun because I remember once when we were dating before Mark said he liked the way my updos showed off the elongation of my neck. Cheesy, but whatever.
It takes me another fifteen minutes or so to finish my makeup, topping it with a rose pink blush. Once I finish with that, I remove the T-shirt I laid over the brown, cowl neck sweater I decided to wear with my black skinny jeans and ankle boots, which are downstairs by the door. Even as an adult and my father gone, I still follow the rule of not wearing any shoes in the house.
“Mama,” I call once dressed to check in and see if she’s almost ready to leave.
Two nights ago, when Resha first brought up the suggestion of me attending their family Thanksgiving, I was firmly against it. But by the time he’d driven me back to my car at Townsend Industries, Mark convinced me to at least stop by for a few minutes.
In the days since then, we spoke on the phone two different times. Each conversation ended with me extending the amount of time I’d spend over his brother’s for Thanksgiving. By this morning, when he called, I told him that I’d be there by four o’clock, and though he encouraged me to show up at three, I held firm.
So now, instead of showing up for dessert, making my hellos, and then quickly leaving, I’d be spending the entire meal with Mark’s family. It isn’t the smartest thing for me to do, yet I couldn’t say no. I didn’t want to say no.
“Are you ready?” I ask as I enter my mother’s bedroom, but I don’t need her to answer. My shoulders sag as I push through her door, seeing her still sitting on the side of the bed, dressed in her pajamas.
“You look nice, baby. Are you going somewhere?”
Sighing, I push down my anger. She can’t help herself. My mother’s grief has turned into evident depression. I’ll have to see about making her an appointment with her doctor soon. If I can’t convince her to see someone to talk to, maybe her trusted physician can.
“Yeah, Mama. We’re going to dinner at my friends’ house, remember? It’s Thanksgiving.”
“Oh, have fun.”
“Mama, we’re going. Come on, let me help you get dressed.”
Thankfully, she doesn’t put up much of a fuss, and I dress her in a light grey sweater and black slacks that look flattering on her. I take my time, parting and curling her permed hair, and though her grey is growing out at the roots, it gives her a sophisticated appearance.
“You look beautiful,” I say, turning her so she can see herself in the full-length mirror.
She gives me a tight smile before waving me off. “Hush.”
I laugh and squeeze her shoulders. “I can do your makeup if you want?”
“No, I don’t want you making a big deal over me.”
“But you are a big deal. You’re my mom.”
She leans her head to the side, her eyes watering. I move closer to hug her, but she steps back, holding her arms up. “What time are we supposed to be there? We’re going to be late.”
Glancing at the clock on her nightstand, I see that she’s right. We need to leave now if we’re going to make it over to Resha and Connor’s by four.
“I’m bringing the string beans and cornbread stuffing that came with the Thanksgiving meal I picked up from the market. Can’t show up on someone’s door empty-handed.”
When I asked Mark what I should bring, he told me Resha said she had it all covered, but I would never dream of showing up without something to offer the hostess.
“That smells good,” my mother says, looking down at the food, and for the first time, I think this might be a good thing, getting her out of the house.
“Maybe I should bring the peach cobbler I ordered, too. What do you think?”
She nods, so I grab the peach cobbler and load it onto the tray that I have the other two dishes on. “All right, let’s go.”
“Who is this friend again?” my mother asks as we get in the car.
“His name is Mark.